<?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-3565761807085131426</id><updated>2012-01-30T22:45:13.549+08:00</updated><title type='text'>what's the problem, baby?</title><subtitle type='html'>twins with jiao's blog.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>191</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-7703537525676486672</id><published>2009-10-07T21:31:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T21:35:08.773+08:00</updated><title type='text'>msn and strange other things</title><content type='html'>I yelled about five f-bombs today. just because I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bloody freaking stupid lit. you just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; to freaking do this shit right? ask some stupid question, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;get my hopes up that you might be easy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;and then you just slam me with crap that makes my head spin and my heart want to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyways, another thing, nadia's blog makes me smile. &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and and and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMxASjxRk1w brain-numbing goodness for history mugging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#EEEEEE;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Deep Down You Are Sensitive&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/theeyetest/eye-6.png" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the type of person who notices everything and forgets nothing. You are very in tune with the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You feel deeply, and sometimes the silliest things can effect you. You are easily brought to laughter or tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't show the world how fragile you are. You instead show people how insightful you can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are good at anticipating what's going to happen in your life. You are often the first one to see what's coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/theeyetest/"&gt;The Eye Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com"&gt;Blogthings: Quizzes and Tests and Memes, Oh My!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yep, sounding good t'me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I reread everysingleone of estallidos' work again today. I think I might be pretty emo at the moment. oh dammit.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-7703537525676486672?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/7703537525676486672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=7703537525676486672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7703537525676486672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7703537525676486672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/10/msn-and-strange-other-things.html' title='msn and strange other things'/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-5236915626190734503</id><published>2009-09-23T16:17:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T16:18:13.079+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>back in the days when I went mad over certain things,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think life was easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(now. I'm mad over EVERYthing. D: and OM. always that bloody thing.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-5236915626190734503?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/5236915626190734503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=5236915626190734503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5236915626190734503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5236915626190734503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/09/back-in-days-when-i-went-mad-over.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-844037613939275970</id><published>2009-09-11T23:28:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T23:34:12.237+08:00</updated><title type='text'>inspired by laura lee xin mei;</title><content type='html'>I have decided to post again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay, anyways, too much has been happening to record here, but the gist is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;found dA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;got mad about dA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;had fights with numerous people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ignored numerous people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;was mean to numerous people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tried to make things right with numerous people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;succeeded with &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;some&lt;/span&gt; people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and flunked science. always. always the science.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(even chinese was okay)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://choirsoftheheavens.deviantart.com/art/what-I-learned-in-school-136652613"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; sums up term three for me. at a glance at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes, I wonder if things would get better if you just leave them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but that's physically impossible. it's like a ball. the red balls that you use in silly games like dodgeball. if you don't push it, pull it, or do &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;something &lt;/span&gt;to it, nothing's gonna happen. but everyone avoids it like the plague because they don't like the consequences if something goes wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah right dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am officially hooked on the Fast and the Furious fandom. D: blame Vin Diesel. I am a sucker for muscles. they look cool. and cars. they look cool too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to study.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-844037613939275970?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/844037613939275970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=844037613939275970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/844037613939275970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/844037613939275970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/09/inspired-by-laura-lee-xin-mei.html' title='inspired by laura lee xin mei;'/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8215110074929087260</id><published>2009-06-09T11:28:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T12:12:40.337+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i feel like procrastinator number 1. the SUPER procrastinator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah yeah, tons of people have more claim on that title than i do but i don't exactly care. i'm pretty much rotting in my seat in front of this computer. i'm so bored i'm actually POSTING. homg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel utterly jealous now. not of cj though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;go figure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8215110074929087260?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8215110074929087260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8215110074929087260' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8215110074929087260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8215110074929087260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-feel-like-procrastinator-number-1.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-500423471041143644</id><published>2009-06-06T10:09:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T10:11:37.748+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#EEEEEE;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are a Fun Flirt&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatkindofflirtareyouquiz/fun-flirt.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just can't help yourself... you flirt with everyone you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guys, girls, crushes, and friends. They're all victims to your charm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're into silly innuendos, sexy jokes, and playful touches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a huge flirt, yet you never make anyone (too) uncomfortable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofflirtareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Flirt Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-500423471041143644?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/500423471041143644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=500423471041143644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/500423471041143644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/500423471041143644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-are-fun-flirt-you-just-cant-help.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1031647259216278703</id><published>2009-06-05T17:30:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T17:34:51.727+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why the new blog URL?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To match Jiao's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's as lame as that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GHEY ALL THE WHEY! (it rhymes! :D)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1031647259216278703?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1031647259216278703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1031647259216278703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1031647259216278703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1031647259216278703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-new-blog-url-to-match-jiaos.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-4756265508369233613</id><published>2009-05-10T17:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T17:54:41.067+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sometimes I run &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm scared because my thumbdrive crashed and I lost three updates and one drabble I was meaning to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad because people don't seem to trust me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm indignant because I have finished studying history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hurt because my 2.4 run is on Friday and so is my Philo SA and that's not even talking about my French test on Thursday, and the three on Tuesday that I've kinda-maybe-should've-&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yesmum&lt;/span&gt; studied for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm angry because sometimes all it takes is one word to break something precious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sometimes I hide &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-4756265508369233613?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/4756265508369233613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=4756265508369233613' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4756265508369233613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4756265508369233613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/05/sometimes-i-run-im-scared-because-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-6483627613911641685</id><published>2009-04-26T21:33:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T21:37:47.908+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when you look to your right and to your left &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you realise that nothing that ever happened to you ever mattered that much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thinking about it, I can't believe I cried at spOM on Saturday. It was just stupid and cruel and guilt-tripping of me to do that. I now understand why Miss Tan hates people crying. It's pathetic and stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thinking about it, I'll never cry EVER AGAIN about something as stupidstupid&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;stupid&lt;/span&gt; as love. because it's not worth it. dilly dally shilly shally!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thinking about it, I realise that there's nothing left to think about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;you cross the road and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;still&lt;/span&gt; get banged down by that car! Dammit!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-6483627613911641685?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/6483627613911641685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=6483627613911641685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6483627613911641685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6483627613911641685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/04/when-you-look-to-your-right-and-to-your.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-47678102542869624</id><published>2009-04-21T18:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T18:35:42.369+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when all things end &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smile and wait as I see the sun fall to its watery grave in the ocean that will never contain it. I sit back and watch creation fall to its created ruin and skyscrapers scrabble to keep up and, inevitably, fall like dominoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The strangest feeling of peace amidst desolation and destruction fills me with warmth and -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for writing about the end of the world. It'll be something like that I think. I might see it one day...if I'm not crumbling to dust by then. Oh wells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I want to stand and say I've done the best that I can.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-47678102542869624?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/47678102542869624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=47678102542869624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/47678102542869624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/47678102542869624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/04/when-all-things-end-i-smile-and-wait-as.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-7982100496643205059</id><published>2009-04-19T22:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T22:10:21.879+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;funny, don'tcha think? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes, when you let things get to your heart &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(not your mind, when you can still process things, or your stomach which can digest and see what it likes and what it'll discard.) &lt;/span&gt;they are the very things that, once taken away, leaves you like a balloon without anymore air inside it. hollow, deflated and utterly bored of everything in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, I cling to FF.Net, which hasn't lost all its charms, thankfully. it shall continue to be the one constant in the ever-changing life. oh, how utterly melodramatic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;also, I think back to all the times I used to be all swoony and happy and could watch Juno and laugh and laugh and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;laugh&lt;/span&gt; and take notes because it would help me do better for _____. I shall not say it. I cannot. I should not. I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will&lt;/span&gt; not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we did our best, but that doesn't mean that it's good enough. and that's what hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;should I have been better? that's something I'll consider for the rest of my life with contempt and just the slightest pinch of wry laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in other news, anne's geography pt is calling her for it is not done and anne should go get her mother's swimming cap from the ____ corner and her thumbdrive from class tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;yes, indeedy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(but help you will needy)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-7982100496643205059?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/7982100496643205059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=7982100496643205059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7982100496643205059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7982100496643205059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/04/funny-dontcha-think-sometimes-when-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-3085314976402790726</id><published>2009-04-15T18:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T20:01:40.531+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;what about now &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now that the pain has somewhat dulled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i really really want a reason to continue doing OM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh crap, GIRO form.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;brb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;physics pt is out to get my soul, fanfiction is rearing its disgustingly tempting head and the last 100 days got shortlisted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;amazing day, isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-3085314976402790726?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/3085314976402790726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=3085314976402790726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3085314976402790726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3085314976402790726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-about-now-now-that-pain-has.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-9151646993884354385</id><published>2009-04-14T21:13:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T18:08:57.945+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;how was om? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dare&lt;/span&gt; ask me that question? I will hit your face into the ground before I can gasp out a "silver and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hell&lt;/span&gt; I'm not proud of it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they say it's OKAY, you were WONDERFUL, your team was AMAZING and you did your BEST. and all I feel inside is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you mean our best wasn't good enough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;damn&lt;/span&gt; does that make me sob like a broken fire hydrant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if that's what you want, by all means, say what you want. if you don't want me PMS-ing on you...I suggest you refrain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(OM, I miss you so much. I miss you so freakin' much it hurts like a fresh bruise that won't go away and I keep pressing it to make sure I feel that hurt bubble up again because &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't want to forget you &lt;/span&gt;even if that means I'm masochistic.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;oh. it was great. really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-9151646993884354385?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/9151646993884354385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=9151646993884354385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/9151646993884354385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/9151646993884354385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-was-om-you-dare-ask-me-that.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-3954317568466935519</id><published>2009-04-14T20:57:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T21:01:32.751+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;what does it feel like? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to know they never really wanted you in the first place, and because of one slip, one note, one word, one hesitation, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a million regrets, &lt;/span&gt;you never made the cut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(DAMMIT 2 POINTS DAMMIT.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will cry during class tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;to know that you've lost the last chance you had to show the world you were worth their hopes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-3954317568466935519?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/3954317568466935519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=3954317568466935519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3954317568466935519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3954317568466935519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-does-it-feel-like-to-know-they.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-7605117643680060488</id><published>2009-04-14T19:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T19:23:45.709+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;because things never work out &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;it didn't use to matter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they got in. oh gods they got in. i should feel happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feelhappyfeelhappyfeelhappyfeelhappy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how does it feel like, knowing that you've been left behind, excluded, closed off, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you know why &lt;/span&gt;and you can't help the situation anymore&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;by crying baby tears, but you want to, you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;need &lt;/span&gt;to, because you're frustrated and there's no one left to blame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you're pointing fingers all around, but somehow it always comes back to point at you. your fault. your fault. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yourfaultyourfaultyourfault &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and you feel disappointment, regret and that spark of anger that blooms into tongues of fire that rage and rage and rage and you feel like killing something, burning something, so you don't feel too alone, or too frenetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and damn, do you feel lousy or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when you're in OM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-7605117643680060488?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/7605117643680060488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=7605117643680060488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7605117643680060488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7605117643680060488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/04/because-things-never-work-out-it-didnt.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-28405805116903273</id><published>2009-04-12T08:02:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T08:25:04.977+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;it's like... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel happy. Very very happy. Because what we did was our best, and what ACS (I) did deserved to win. AND RGS(S) GOT 6 GOLDS OUT OF THE 9 TEAMS WE SENT IN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel angry. Very very angry. Because our seniors REALLY deserved to win. They should've, could've, WOULD'VE, had it NOT been for some sneaky, racist, vulgar, crude ACS(I) geeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's fine. I accept that we got 2nd, and that my friends were better than us in some ways. Anyway, for a two-week thing, I'm pretty satisfied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satisfied? I hardly know the MEANING of the word now. It's not fair that we had 12(!) competitors and they only had, what, 5?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ACS(I) deserved to win what they did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ACS(I) shouldn't have won, if only because it would give Singapore a bad name at the World Finals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At something I'd always wanted to do well in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGST DANGNABBIT GO AWAY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-28405805116903273?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/28405805116903273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=28405805116903273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/28405805116903273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/28405805116903273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-like.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8364101531296890026</id><published>2009-04-10T10:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T10:18:17.168+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hello there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;are you a friend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do I not have to breathe to stay alive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made sure I was the one thing standing between you and dropping out completely. I made sure you would always have someone, hecktate, I even changed myself so I could fit you. And I'm sorry if I was with the Levites that day in March Camp when they talked about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry if I kept this from you so long that it's built up to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry if I held back slapping and kicking and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shaking&lt;/span&gt; you to tell you that no one's got the patience to hold out with a girl who changes her mind with a snap and hates people like poison if they say something wrong &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;while going around preaching that we must reallyreallyreally forgive others&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you don't make the effort, who's going to like you, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;for you&lt;/span&gt;, in the long run?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I have the answer. You should be smart enough to know it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you hate me for this, I guess I can't help it. you're great, awesome as some people would say, but you don't really have an inkling on how to be nice to people. you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; people to like you then you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;put in the effort to make yourself liked.&lt;/span&gt; It's a lousy world we live in, so &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;deal with it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;what d'you want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8364101531296890026?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8364101531296890026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8364101531296890026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8364101531296890026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8364101531296890026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/04/hello-there.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-5096187159539718661</id><published>2009-04-05T08:56:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T19:25:38.673+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;tell me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's been a hard three days in my life, and certainly the most draining I've experienced this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes, I wonder if caring for people is really worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- anneanne? tell me honestly, do you really believe in love? - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess, ohgoshthissoundssostrangeandego, that sometimes it's painful but fulfilling and I like caring for others because then they care for me, in some way or another. and love is a great feeling, so loving is, to me, better than being loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- yeah whatever -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because when your heart is open, love will always find its way in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- love is....overrated - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when the going gets tough, hang on for dear life and HECK the pain, sometimes, it's better to weather the storm and get hurt than to be called the coward who didn't try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-5096187159539718661?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/5096187159539718661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=5096187159539718661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5096187159539718661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5096187159539718661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/04/tell-me-its-been-hard-three-days-in-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8472141690055165060</id><published>2009-04-02T20:13:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T20:59:42.622+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;now the night is near&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To think, I've been living in a dream, only just woken to reality harsh and unbearably true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe things were never perfect, just me, trying to make them that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe people were never perfect, just me, trying to believe so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe times were never perfect, just me, trying to see it like it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I wanted to have a perfect life of perfect smiles and perfect...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;birthdays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm preparing for Saturday, not a Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For death, not a celebration of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For an unlucky number 13, not of the getting rid of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a segregated, tired OM team, not family waiting to smile and friends waiting to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For another day, and not a birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to see something happen. Something magical. Something nonsensical. Something so UNBELIEVABLY AMAZING, that I'll believe in miracles again. I want to see that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and things are getting darker&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8472141690055165060?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8472141690055165060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8472141690055165060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8472141690055165060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8472141690055165060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/04/now-night-is-near-to-think-ive-been.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-3848482505430157376</id><published>2009-03-29T18:59:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T20:08:38.582+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>to please a certain somebody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;unwanted, unneeded, unnecessary&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is like spring, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;beautiful, majestic, short-lived,&lt;br /&gt;like how a match is lit,&lt;br /&gt;but quickly, in winds of time, is extinguished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we lived in a happy moment,&lt;br /&gt;trying to stop time so we could&lt;br /&gt;trap ourselves in it so tightly,&lt;br /&gt;that we'd never need to get out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you left, for far away,&lt;br /&gt;packing all you owned&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            (my heart, perhaps)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made no move to make you stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the facade of joy that we'd made shattered,&lt;br /&gt;pieces cutting me,&lt;br /&gt;yet I still pick them up&lt;br /&gt;because they were the only memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The war, most have decried,&lt;br /&gt;was unnecessary, stupid,&lt;br /&gt;they blamed the government of course.&lt;br /&gt;I agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who gave them the right&lt;br /&gt;to decide who lives&lt;br /&gt;and who dies&lt;br /&gt;and who gets left behind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So immature, that's what they'd say,&lt;br /&gt;all for the greater good,&lt;br /&gt;some ideal that we lower beings,&lt;br /&gt;will never understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry for your loss."&lt;br /&gt;They don't understand.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't have the time to find you,&lt;br /&gt;so how could I lose you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess they were right.&lt;br /&gt;We &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;were&lt;/span&gt; far too young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Absolutely no link in sight kind of poem. TYVM.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-3848482505430157376?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/3848482505430157376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=3848482505430157376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3848482505430157376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3848482505430157376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-please-certain-somebody.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8526798470615690596</id><published>2009-03-25T22:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T22:33:17.452+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;you mean you want to have regrets, nanne? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouchouchouchouch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regrets. I try not to go there these days, too many to count, too few to write. I wish I could list them, but then again, I might bore everyone. Good heavens, do I have regrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to think that I regretted Judo, or my choosing it, but I can see why. Every person needs to make this BIG mistake. But I guess my way of running away was cowardly. Really horridly cowardly. If I'd made a mistake, I should have stuck with it and made it better with what I had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I ran. I ran away from it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Escapology. Story of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a HUGE difference between starting at Sec 1 and starting at Sec 2. Your friends stare at you like you're a freak. You become overly proud and think you lord it over your Sec 1s. You aren't exactly fitting in. You're becoming more and more disgusting every day. Exhibit A. Anne Ng, aka Nanne. Has all four symptoms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like how I'm handling GB. I love it, yes I do. And I'm accepted, more or less. But, as the great PAS says, to every man who breaks the thing he loves most, let this be heard. He broke her like a vase, and stared quizzically at the pieces. I shouldn't have gone from Judo, even if the only reason why I stayed is so I could stick to a choice I'd made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*smacks head against table multiple times*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid nanne. If only you had a bit more freakin' courage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was nicer to my family. I'm lousy, really lousy to them. I have a lousy temper, lousy incessant chatter, lousy with lousiness. I want to sit with them and WATCH A MOVIE or GO TO THE BEACH or DO A ROMP. Anything but me sitting here and sewing/threadingRapunzel'swig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could be better at acting bimbotic. I'm failing miserably. Cue disgusting crying noises. Oh crud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/I may not make it through the night, but I won't go home without yoooooou./&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really like that song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pretend I don't have them, Ash dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8526798470615690596?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8526798470615690596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8526798470615690596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8526798470615690596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8526798470615690596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/you-mean-you-want-to-have-regrets-nanne.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1262256884235645569</id><published>2009-03-24T21:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T21:52:38.700+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;i wish &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;things were different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been said to be a people's person, sweet enough, funny enough, attentive enough, sensitive enough. I have friends, I dare say a good many, and some are popular in their own right, some aren't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have time for romantic love now, if that's even possible, because I find that I can love my friends enough to fill my life with love and people who need it. Who needs love when they can have friendship?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to iron things out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love all my friends. I don't show it sometimes, but I do. Some may have fallen through the cracks because I just don't have the eyes/time/hands/patience/god-like-ness to really go to every one of you and say that I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shout out to some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winnie: I really really do love you. I shall strive to show that to you from now on. I can be irritable, but I guess you know why. You have your faults, I have mine, I need to put in more effort. Now that we're sitting together...let's just try to make this work, yeah?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leti: Well. I don't need to say that we have this psychic thing working for us. Anyways, cheer up. And don't get emo. Okay fine. I can't dictate that in your life. But, yeah, don't feel bad about yourself. WHO CARES ABOUT CHINESE ANYWAY?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(...your dad. but who cares about him? :D)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both of y'all: I don't want this to boil down to one or the other. I can't only be friends with one of you. Either you two make up or I...I don't know what I'll do. I'll probably cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I nearly did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I FEEL LIKE SHAKING SOMEONE. HARD. GRAH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;phew. black moment over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OWARI.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1262256884235645569?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1262256884235645569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1262256884235645569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1262256884235645569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1262256884235645569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-wish-things-were-different.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-4219010639726479130</id><published>2009-03-22T16:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T20:29:38.388+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when all else fails &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they say I'm crazy,&lt;br /&gt;maybe I am.&lt;br /&gt;talking to things&lt;br /&gt;which don't talk back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;perhaps too scared to- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;miracles,&lt;br /&gt;all a bunch of fairytales,&lt;br /&gt;they tell me,&lt;br /&gt;where's God, they'd like to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-up there laughing, probably- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;coincidence,&lt;br /&gt;humans are here because of it,&lt;br /&gt;the sky, the world,&lt;br /&gt;all one evolutionary mistake's consequence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-or maybe someone's prized creation- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;trivialities, stupidities, they proclaim,&lt;br /&gt;an immature little girl's ramblings,&lt;br /&gt;who'd have thought?&lt;br /&gt;she seemed sensible enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can hear them,&lt;br /&gt;somewhere far off and away,&lt;br /&gt;some days, I don't need to hear them,&lt;br /&gt;and some days, I pretend I can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-all the things they say-  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;never thought myself to be this romantic,&lt;br /&gt;the type to sit&lt;br /&gt;and watch&lt;br /&gt;and think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;searching for stars,&lt;br /&gt;small mercies&lt;br /&gt;amidst blackness&lt;br /&gt;and lost hopes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cold baubles hanging on&lt;br /&gt;a dark Christmas tree&lt;br /&gt;even though it's the city,&lt;br /&gt;and no one believes in Christmas anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;        -nothing merry about it, eh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;-&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-4219010639726479130?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/4219010639726479130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=4219010639726479130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4219010639726479130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4219010639726479130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/when-all-else-fails-they-say-im-crazy.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-4892070208684039361</id><published>2009-03-21T22:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T22:36:46.269+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;what's going on on the floor? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I'm disconnected from the world anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I can't think of anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I find that I care too much about tiny details and relationships that have already died off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I've become a zombie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I can't converse with my parents without making long-winded, boring explanations of what the "YOU SUCK" joke means, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I'm no longer on the same wavelength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I can't find time to write anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I pray and pray but I can't pray for much other than pleasepleasepleasehelpmyOMteam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I don't talk to the Baboonz anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I've lost one friend to gain another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I want to scream and punch my sister when she has free time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I can't sit down and watch a movie without taking notes on how they act and what they say and what they do when they say it and how their costume fits them and how it adds to their character and how the relationships are shown and how everything links back to OM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I can't stand anyone anymore that's NOT in my OM team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I can't bear to look at pictures from last time because I was SO. FREAKIN'. *slap* HAPPY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because things have to NOT make sense before I listen to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I've begun acting all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I experiment with my voice and think about how to coach my team for their voice acting when I'm in bed. Instead of sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because my eyebags are huge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I can't talk to someone for longer than half a minute before saying OM, I've gotta go for OM, or I'M SO FREAKIN' STRESSED FOR OM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because jiao's face froze and I counted it as a blessing. (in disguise)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because no one understands me when I'm talking, because I say things like, "*bleep* juice".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I'd really like to sleep now, except for the fact that I'm on a roll and I have homework to finish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I'm in OM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I love this record, baby, but I can't see straight anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-4892070208684039361?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/4892070208684039361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=4892070208684039361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4892070208684039361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4892070208684039361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/whats-going-on-on-floor-because-im.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-6842315694822666681</id><published>2009-03-20T23:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T23:37:26.009+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;we were both young &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth. what a horridly overrated topic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth has to do with how young you are, yet it does not mean it as merely a physical maturity-of-body. it has something to do with long sentences and stringing them, it has something to do with minds and how fast you can do a problem of simultaneous equations. things like that get complicated, yes they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth also means innocence. innocence. that song's playing in my head now. I listened to it on the way down from Port Dickson and it made me really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;want to cry. it's so true. I felt so un-tied-down during the camp, and it seemed like each kilometre closer to home was just one more burden slapped on all over again. instead of thinking about God's love or friendship like I worried about during camp, I found myself busy thinking about what homework I hadn't finished yet and what things I hadn't completed for OM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth means stupidity. no one thinks highly of a immature little girl, yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth means shake-you-till-you-just-&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wake-up&lt;/span&gt;-from-your-fairytale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth means vibrancy like colours on a tapestry or stars in far-off galaxy. growing up is like obscuring them, dulling them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth means me. and yet it doesn't. it's really complicated, like my Rapunzel wig, which I've never really completed, though it looks more and more like hair and less like instant noodles each day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth means happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth means PMS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth means weird and GAY and having half your face die on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth means OM and Miss Tan killing you and Miss Chan being disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth means I've got to get back to doing my holiday homework now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when I first saw you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-6842315694822666681?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/6842315694822666681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=6842315694822666681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6842315694822666681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6842315694822666681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-were-both-young-youth.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1796833094668644369</id><published>2009-03-19T20:28:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T21:23:44.758+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;is there someone out there? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MARCH CAMP 09 WAS AMAZING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love GB. I can say that firmly, though I'm still vaguely apprehensive. It's the feeling you get when you stare at something that's so incredulously good and you wonder, deep deep down inside, if it's all just a dream, and you've been living like you were in with it when, actually, all it's been is this lie. This horrendous lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this thing with CCAs, after numerous bad experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1796833094668644369?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1796833094668644369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1796833094668644369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1796833094668644369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1796833094668644369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/is-there-someone-out-there-march-camp.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-5976138468672357359</id><published>2009-03-15T15:58:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T16:31:24.775+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not stupid.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh of COURSE i am. OF COURSE i'm LOUSY and STUPID and STEPPING ON YOU. sure thing. of COURSE. because, what, i like more dependable people? i tend to be meaner to the people closest to me? or is it just because i'm just TIRED of having to watch my dearest thing, the thing i LOVE with all my heart, GO TO WASTE just because i can't do everything?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't. you know i can't. i can't finish OM on my own, even though i cry myself to sleep most of the time just THINKING about how pathetic we are, even though we have the biggest talents (apparently) in the junior division. it's so disgusting, so infinitely STUPID, that we have the talent, we have the materials, but we JUST CAN'T DO THE WORK. i admit it, i'm exactly that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm FRATERNIZING WITH THE ENEMY (oh GASP) just because sometimes people can be nicer than you can be. that sometimes, when i help someone, it's nice to get a thank you, y'know? i love you, yes, but it's nice to have someone else to fall back upon, especially when you seem to have happily flamed me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you can trust me to cry about this later. trust me. i will. because i can't hate you for that long, and i sure as hell *slap* STILL love you, because you're my friend, and fighting is what friends do, and sometimes, hating people is overrated and stupid and loving people is just that much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all this time i've spent groaning and moaning stupidly over Zi Xin, because she's my best friend and i've given to her way too much to take anything back, i've realised, friendship is two ways. as much as i'd like to have Zi Xin as my best friend again (because things were SO MUCH SIMPLER WHEN IT WAS LIKE THAT), she won't think of me like that, so there's no point. it's not friendship like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not sure if i even feel anything now. whether i'm angry or i'm sad, guilty or just plain pathetic, i know one thing. i know that i still respect you, i still smile for/at/with you, and, GUESS WHAT, i'll go to march camp and have a WHAL E OF A TIME WITH YOU because, y'know what, i've just realised something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;something horrific.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;something so very DAMN *slap* true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you're my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I actually go and LOOK at your blog, y'know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and no. no hard feelings. seriously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-5976138468672357359?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/5976138468672357359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=5976138468672357359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5976138468672357359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5976138468672357359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/not-stupid.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-6741817221455430707</id><published>2009-03-15T15:43:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T15:53:47.439+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;stranger &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hello there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in my stomach, i'm having this disgusting sour feeling. i wonder why. gb camp is going to be FUN. i'll make sure i'm NICE TO THE UGTIEYANFSHD SEC ONES and SUPER NICE to my group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's a promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...hard thing to uphold. oh hecktate *slap*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm gonna be gone for four days. i have a few messages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMlettes: don't give up! i'm doing my wig in malaysia! we'll OWN THIS THING. as long as on the 20th, we move veryveryvery fast. (can we go into school?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baboonz: WAIT FOR ME. don't have fun without me yeah?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel/GA: I'll miss all of y'all. Seeya soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bye guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nanne nanne&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-6741817221455430707?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/6741817221455430707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=6741817221455430707' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6741817221455430707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6741817221455430707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/stranger-hello-there.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-5612480632081957171</id><published>2009-03-13T22:41:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T22:45:14.985+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;all of my memories &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;y'know what? scratch that horrid post. yes, that one down there. get it OUT OF YOUR MEMORY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tyvm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OM is kicking my butt. it really is. and it hurts sometimes, that I've been putting in so much effort, the OMlettes have been putting in so much effort, but whoopee! we're still dead. dead. dead. dead. *beeeeeeeeeeeeeee*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that kind of dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm putting all my writing on hiatus for now. I think I need to finish my Rapunzel wig and figure out what shoes she's gonna wear, and then, AND THEN, I'll write again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO MORE WRITING ANNE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;will try my best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;keep you near.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-5612480632081957171?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/5612480632081957171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=5612480632081957171' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5612480632081957171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5612480632081957171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/all-of-my-memories-will-try-my-best.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-4886821337412013635</id><published>2009-03-12T21:54:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T22:04:47.549+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;something odd and complicated &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;difficult thing to do, innit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say a sorry, wipe a tear, forgive, that kind of thing. all way too hard. I should have to deal with this. too young to know what real hatred is. to know that it's all about never EVER speaking to someone ever again, and not acknowledging the person, even though you bump shoulders sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pretty pathetic saying a pathetic sorry in a pathetically stupid post innit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;indeed. it is. but that doesn't detract from the fact that it must be said by either of the two parties and since nothing's happened on his side, whether because of intense hatred or utter I-DON'T-CARE-ABOUT-YOU-ness, I shall try my best to say it in as little words as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sorry Seth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;funny how that makes a nice alliteration. oh skipskipskeroo and skipskeree. if he doesn't reply, or even come here anymore, or if Rei comes to me tomorrow and says what a shallow and horrid thing it is to do to say sorry over a stupid blog post, I have only one thing to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought I'd become so soft as to say sorry. and because I'm soft and random and downright stupid to even think this would work, I shall pull a classic girl-thing to further emphasise my journey into idiocy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm friggin' crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...*slap*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-4886821337412013635?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/4886821337412013635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=4886821337412013635' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4886821337412013635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4886821337412013635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/something-odd-and-complicated-difficult.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1847686663013126293</id><published>2009-03-11T18:22:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T19:11:53.435+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;are you human? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frankenstein is the MAKER. Remember that. Not the monster. THE MAKER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to me, he's more of a monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;French is a bore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgiving is freakin' *slap* hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgetting is worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F*** is bad to use and you can get slapped (by yourself) for even saying the softer one "Fook" *slap*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Furry is a nice thing to say. Just the right amount of Fffff and RRRRRRrrr. And it's doux in french, FYI.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Final Fantasy is my love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fanfiction is fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ferregamo is too. And I can't spell it either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fenrir will never be the same again. Ever since I read a fic that changed my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ferocious is a cool word to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F's make my day, my liFe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too bad Odyssey oF the Mind only has one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh wells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;or are you a monster too?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1847686663013126293?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1847686663013126293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1847686663013126293' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1847686663013126293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1847686663013126293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/are-you-human-frankenstein-is-maker.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-2908098015285065822</id><published>2009-03-07T21:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T21:53:32.072+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;notice me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm lost most of the time anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've a little...vignette? Ficlet? for y'all. Something I wrote on the fly for a fanfic. Maybe I'll actually put it in!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;             &lt;style type="text/css"&gt;  &lt;!--   @page { size: 8.5in 11in; margin: 0.79in }   P { margin-bottom: 0.08in }  --&gt;  &lt;/style&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" lang="en-US"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The music plays but no one really listens to it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" lang="en-US"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The bell above the door to the bar tinkles merrily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" lang="en-US"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;At first, he just heads to the counter, where his cold dinner is waiting for him, not even taking in the darkened bar. She straightens from wiping one of the tables and at the slight movement, he whisks around and looks at her. She meets his eye. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" lang="en-US"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;His clothes are rumpled and stained dark with blood and motorcycle oil. His eyes are searching hers as if they hold some hidden truth he should know about, as if there's something that he just can't grasp about her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" lang="en-US"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;[i]Why are you still up? Why are you still here waiting?[/i]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" lang="en-US"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She can't give him an answer for any of his questions, because she doesn't really know herself. To suffice for an answer, she flashes him a grin, because she can't pull off any other expression as well as this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" lang="en-US"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She hopes it reaches her eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" lang="en-US"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He shrugs, gives up trying to understand her endless vocabulary of sad smiles and happy frowns, and grabs the bag on the counter labeled "Dinner". Her eyes drop to the table as she hears the door slam and soon after, Fenrir starting up. She goes back to wiping the table as if he never came in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" lang="en-US"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The music's on but no one really listens to it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sheer sad poetic quality of Cloud and Tifa's relationship. Sad as anything, but oddly...real. Poor people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;take my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-2908098015285065822?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/2908098015285065822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=2908098015285065822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2908098015285065822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2908098015285065822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/notice-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-2992057564753547000</id><published>2009-03-01T15:40:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T15:46:52.807+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been churning out FF stories by the dozen, and amazingly enough, Rachel/general public likes it! Crazy world we live in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm quite irritated at myself. I ought to be doing OM/studying now. Grah! I should ask Mandy Choo to walk down and help me with my makeshift wig. Being Rapunzel has its downsides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Losing sleep makes me make no sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Rachel just makes me want to SCREAM. Rachel, you WILL be online NAO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PirANTS of the CARRYBEAN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The picture in their honour is happily displayed in my catechism journal. Yay OMlettes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get going with OMER (juice)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(malumpsmalumps...sorry. still remembering spon training.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh, I should go take a nap now. I'll blog sometime later...April perhaps?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-2992057564753547000?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/2992057564753547000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=2992057564753547000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2992057564753547000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2992057564753547000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/03/so.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-6536566345071552956</id><published>2009-02-20T20:47:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T21:20:43.659+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;money can't buy you anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not forgiveness &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I don't WANT to forgive you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But God's calling me to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to do it just to "please God" because it'll be filthy, filthily hypocritical because I won't mean it, I won't, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;won't&lt;/span&gt;. And I can't change that fact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet I can, but I won't try enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried and succeeded with so many others. Zi Xin, I've slogged to understand her and be the best friend I could be. Rei, who understands and understands and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;understands&lt;/span&gt; what hatred is. That black oily &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;disgusting&lt;/span&gt; feeling that curls inside and begsbegsbegs to be shown. She knows what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so utterly &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;utterly&lt;/span&gt; tired now. And I'm crying and crying and crying, because I can't understand &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;why&lt;/span&gt; it's become so much harder now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you're young, you can just go "It's cool, right?" and that's the END. You don't bring it up again, because your poor little mind won't comprehend anything other than the phrase "forgive and forget".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now...it's so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I DON'T want to say it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But since you'll never say it, I will. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for wrecking your life by never speaking to you. I'm sorry I can't be bothered to say this to your face, because I'm so scared and so stubborn. I'm sorry I spited you every time I could because you just make me fizzle and sizzle and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;burn&lt;/span&gt; inside with hatred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-6536566345071552956?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/6536566345071552956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=6536566345071552956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6536566345071552956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6536566345071552956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/02/money-cant-buy-you-anything.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1607040340329959605</id><published>2009-02-15T01:13:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T01:19:26.650+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ANNE IS WANDOM &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and thanks to winneh cos I stole it from her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anne is special &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry but, DUHHHHHHH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is invited out to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everything. She's popular. Or so she thinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is bored with her current homepage &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hell yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is new mayor &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ehh...no. Ash is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is an author &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is kindly fetched by the trumpet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whut?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anne is a book &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay.........................Anne of Green Gables IS nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is a naughty average girl &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is fast copy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Copier, you mean. And yes, she is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is awesome &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DUH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is a bitch &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is the greatest &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. Nice to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is starvin' marvin &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whut?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is stuck with him &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him...hmmm...Nah, I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is not a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Child. Teenager, tyvm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anne is a infant &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anne is sorry.&lt;br /&gt;~ She says so herself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Googlism: 'tis weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1607040340329959605?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1607040340329959605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1607040340329959605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1607040340329959605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1607040340329959605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/02/anne-is-wandom-and-thanks-to-winneh-cos.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-4706132578664751301</id><published>2009-02-11T09:51:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T09:58:38.928+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Leti's so WANDOM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(anne is too)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways. I shall change my FB relationship to Married to HJ. Because HJ is the bestest girl in class. And she's so funny in Geog. How many people badmouth Mrs Koh EVERYTIME she goes by?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting next to Saman got me thinking really. She really likes  ________________ and she's all cut up. Aww. I pats you deary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite my otherwise cynical view on love, I shall say that it is an ideal, a hope for the world to be caring to each other. Love may exist, but it takes a HELL of a lot to get to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[digression]&lt;br /&gt;Look at poor Aerith... Missing Zacky sweetums.&lt;br /&gt;[/digression]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope/Rachel's uber nice. I've been lagging on typing out the rest of the next chapter for TLHD for super long, but she doesn't mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND EUGENE LIM ___ ___ (i forgot that), YOU WILL CHANGE YOUR BLOGSKIN WHICH IS MAKING IT SUPERdamn HARD TO READ YOUR friggin' BLOG!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne will win against Eugene because she's won him so many times before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Lewzer...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-4706132578664751301?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/4706132578664751301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=4706132578664751301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4706132578664751301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4706132578664751301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/02/letis-so-wandom.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-4432850416917463814</id><published>2009-02-07T21:41:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T21:46:24.448+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>1. What is your name : Anne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. A four Letter Word : Ar- *ahem* I don't know? Ails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. A boy's Name : Antony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. A girl's Name : Angelica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. An occupation : Architect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. A color : Armadillo gray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Something you'll wear : Ankle Socks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. A food : Apple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Something found in the bathroom: Aerosol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. A place : America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. A reason for being late : Alarm Clock wouldn't ring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Something you'd shout : (iseethe) ANGELSSSSS (I'llleadthemtoyourdoor)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. A movie title : Autumn in New York. Sniffsniff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Something you drink : Apple juice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. A musical group : A random band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. An animal : Armadillo. Aardvark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt; 18. A street name : Anwhistle Aquatics Lane. Never finished.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. A type of car : Audi? I hate that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. The title of a song : Angels.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-4432850416917463814?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/4432850416917463814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=4432850416917463814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4432850416917463814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4432850416917463814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/02/1.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-2422058203751277838</id><published>2009-02-06T20:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T21:11:20.183+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;prompt: write a letter to someone you think you should spend more time with. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dearest Zi Xin,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a while, hasn't it? Even though it seems like it's been only a day since we were wearing those dastardly white uniforms and stealing food from the Pantry, and badmouthing Mrs Loo behind her back, it's been at least a year. Mrs Chan was right. I didn't realise I missed 6K until it was all over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world sparkles I've learned. There are some many things I see every day, things I want to be, things that tantalize and draw me to them. Things that took me away from you and you away from me and shattered something that I can't really put my finger on. It seems too simple to generalize our friendship in that way, yet I know people change. And I admit it, I've changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hardly talk now, maybe the odd conversation here and there. I wish we could spend more time together. I know you've got Table Tennis, and I have Odyssey of the Mind, and we have our separate friends. Everything's changed, and I feel like I'm the only one staring at photos and wondering why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe Best Friends Forever was really an empty promise on both our parts. Did we know then, in all our foolish 12 year old mindset, that we would drift apart? Maybe in some other time, when we stayed in the same crowd, we'd always find each other in it, just to talk to someone who really understands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That sounded pretty sentimental and soft of me. Ohwell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lotsa Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-2422058203751277838?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/2422058203751277838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=2422058203751277838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2422058203751277838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2422058203751277838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/02/prompt-write-letter-to-someone-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-9123474333592861099</id><published>2009-02-01T22:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T22:35:35.729+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;falling angel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You made me love you,&lt;br /&gt;totally,&lt;br /&gt;sweet words&lt;br /&gt;                -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wish they were real-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cushioning the cut of lies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I listen as you tell me,&lt;br /&gt;I'm the embodiment of your dreams,&lt;br /&gt;your attempts to make me&lt;br /&gt;do what you didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I curl up at night, wishing&lt;br /&gt;things were the same as before,&lt;br /&gt;that you still love me,&lt;br /&gt;for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a puppet,&lt;br /&gt;telling a story that's not mine,&lt;br /&gt;I can't move on my own,&lt;br /&gt;eternally tied to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's what they mean,&lt;br /&gt;when they said,&lt;br /&gt;the only inexplicable love,&lt;br /&gt;is between mother and child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I couldn't see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-9123474333592861099?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/9123474333592861099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=9123474333592861099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/9123474333592861099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/9123474333592861099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/02/falling-angel.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1588007755945656074</id><published>2009-01-31T18:38:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T18:43:49.322+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;what's perfection made of? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To put it very simply, my dear reader of my dastardly blog, it is made of three things joined flawlessly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God. Family. OMlettes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(others make nice side orders though. xD)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I don't need to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family...well...'tis family. Koala Lou is the best explanation I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[quote]Soon her mother was too busy she didn't have time to tel Koala Lou she loved her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although of course she did.[/quote]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMlettes. INCLUDES Miss Chan!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... start from the start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thank all of you for sPIEcing up my life to my de-LIGHT. We've had many CRACKED moments, when things was FALLING APA-ART and we had to sort through lots of reLACEtionship problems within the group. There was the NAGEREN, there was the DIRTY OM SPACE and Div3Problem3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short. We so rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sparkling angel, I believe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I believe that it's out there. And boy oh boy, I'm gonna get it some day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1588007755945656074?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1588007755945656074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1588007755945656074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1588007755945656074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1588007755945656074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/whats-perfection-made-of-to-put-it-very.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-7639347286433332365</id><published>2009-01-29T18:50:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T20:30:51.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;what if the arms that catch you, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what if is a fantastic phrase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyways, bringing to you the awesomeness (or crappiness) that is the product of inspiration, touching stories, and not paying attention in class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[acute lack of title] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;reduced to hound dogs,&lt;br /&gt;content to overtake,&lt;br /&gt;to run towards an unknown goal,&lt;br /&gt;no rest for the weary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;caged in walls of fading beige,&lt;br /&gt;under the weight of those initials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;see with eyes unseeing,&lt;br /&gt;hear with ears unhearing,&lt;br /&gt;thoughts, words,&lt;br /&gt;lump in throat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;caged in walls of fading beige,&lt;br /&gt;under the weight of those initials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;forced to listen&lt;br /&gt;droning monotone,&lt;br /&gt;lazy to join&lt;br /&gt;the chorus of rebellious chatter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;caged in walls of fading beige,&lt;br /&gt;under the weight of those initials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;between Scylla and Charybdis,&lt;br /&gt;parents, teachers, friends,&lt;br /&gt;struggle to find peace&lt;br /&gt;drowning in the raging seas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;caged in walls of fading beige,&lt;br /&gt;under the weight of those initials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;soon, the wait is over,&lt;br /&gt;I'll walk out of here,&lt;br /&gt;into a bigger, nicer cell,&lt;br /&gt;forevermore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;caged in walls of faded beige,&lt;br /&gt;under the weight of those initials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Damn you lah Raffles! Had to land here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;catch you by surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-7639347286433332365?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/7639347286433332365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=7639347286433332365' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7639347286433332365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7639347286433332365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-if-arms-that-catch-you-what-if-is.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-775059465516011732</id><published>2009-01-28T21:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T21:47:26.639+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tagged on facebook by Leti!&lt;br /&gt;17 facts!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I'm currently being bugged by my beta for my next chapter. Oh piff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I have MSN-pals from all over the world! America, Japan, Britain, Bradford, Hungary...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I love my OMlette friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I love my fanfiction with a slice of fluff and a dollop of angst.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I can/do/have written some M rated stuff. But nothing disgusting. All of it was metaphors and stuff. Rachel would like to add here that IT WAS NOT HER FAULT THAT I TURNED OUT LIKE THIS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I have my lapses in faith sometimes. Thankfully not as much as I have in my temper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I love cam-whoring. (BRIGHT GREEN CAMERA!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I'm cynical for a reason. Which I won't tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. No. No, I do not have a boyfriend/crush. And the "In an Open Relationship" junk over Facebook was with Zi Xin. And Reno. And Leti. And CJ, as she'd like to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I can't write. I say it now, and I'll say it another million times. I can't. So don't try and convince me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. I'm emo a lot on my blog, because it's my dumping ground for crap I don't want to say in person to some people...*shifty eyes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. I have a bad habit of spamming tag boards and forum pages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I used to bite my fingernails compulsively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. I dance. Yes, yes I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. I like a total of 3 Chinese songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. My favourite movie is still Winnie the Pooh's Most Grand Adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. My favourite book is still Koala Lou. Still makes me cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Done!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-775059465516011732?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/775059465516011732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=775059465516011732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/775059465516011732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/775059465516011732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/tagged-on-facebook-by-leti-17-facts-1.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-2513606597503660618</id><published>2009-01-27T18:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T18:44:07.052+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;never one to disappoint &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Don't read this, just skip this whole part]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;you were never one for instructions, never wanted to be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;told&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; what to do, never wanted to feel confined by people &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;telling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; you what to do. you were old enough to decide for yourself. you (fooled yourself into thinking that you) tried your best on your own. and yes, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; you did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;you were never one for criticism. they were &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;attacking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; you. you were just a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;kid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;. and you're amazing already. you're &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;already&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; good enough, they just can't &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;see &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;it in you. to the hell with those people, you hung around only the people who lavished you with compliments, who &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;saw&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; what you saw in yourself, and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;said so&lt;/span&gt; (all the things you wanted to hear, all the things &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; wanted to know were true).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;then everything went &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;wrong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;. when you found out that, to your horror, (even though you knew it inside for such a while) that you couldn't write, couldn't act, couldn't speak, couldn't do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; well. you screamed at yourself, telling yourself you needed to do things &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;. so you tried, this time reallyreallyreally, as hard as you could.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;(too little, too late, as they say.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;and they're...they're...right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;[there. aren't you glad you didn't read that? yes, yes you are.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not happy today. Poof. I haven't gotten much work done, no fanfiction went anywhere, and I'm hopelessly disgruntled at my lousy writing. Moping time starts now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ends now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the CNY front, I'm happy with the money I got. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'll close now.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-2513606597503660618?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/2513606597503660618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=2513606597503660618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2513606597503660618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2513606597503660618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/never-one-to-disappoint-dont-read-this.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-777285266606949152</id><published>2009-01-26T17:38:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T23:46:25.838+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;walk the line between idiocy and denial&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;you curse and swear, you lie through your teeth, bite and scrabble, for the purchase of blaming others, (it's all &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;their &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;fault). it was never you, you were the one wronged. they scolded you? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;their &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;problem. they wouldn't listen, so you can push the blame, neatly, forcefully, into their hands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;you cry and become angered by the weakness. you try to pretend, so you can punish their belligerence with your silence. you tell yourself, they'll know when you finally lose it, when they see what their words, their actions made you into, but you can't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;you like to think you're good at expressing yourself, that you can do well at the things you've always wanted to be good at. so you can't help but let it all out. you use different methods, write a bit here, a bit there, scribble something somewhere. then you close your eyes, ears, so you don't need to hear if it was good or bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;you give yourself excuses, because everyone else won't. you tell yourself, you're too young, too silly to do anything well for the moment. that you're still much better than everyone else (as long as you compare yourself to the people you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; are worse than you), because that's the only way your brain will listen to what your heart wants (so very much) to believe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;you were always weak like that, weak in the flesh, weak in the heart, weak in the places you like to think you were strong in. if you didn't do something, you were &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;forced &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;(toostupidcowardlyidioticdumb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;) to lie. no other way out. there are many things you want to say, but there's a feeling (you won't say it's cowardice. the word leaves a taste too acid to be used) that pushes it all down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;(it's all so &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;unfair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;but inside, you know it's justice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you heave a sigh of relief. the anger is spent, over a passage of meaningless words and phrases. now that you look at it, it's quite foolish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, you don't want anyone to read this at all. so it's blacked out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-777285266606949152?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/777285266606949152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=777285266606949152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/777285266606949152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/777285266606949152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/walk-line-between-idiocy-and-denial-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-5052938935784162967</id><published>2009-01-26T16:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T18:18:52.129+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm not alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're all ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY! (that DID sound trigger happy)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CNY's fantastic, except for the fact that THERE IS SO MUCH HOMEWORK! **** &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you &lt;/span&gt;teachers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was vaguely interesting. Played Wii with the sister, and ate WAY too much for comfort. Now I settle myself down for some good ol' homework. It's SO good to be home for the New Year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing but homework in the near future, with, perhaps, a side of fanfiction and music, upsize the judging, and yes, yes I will make that a full meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait. I'd like some MSN chats a la carte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, serve it a bit later? Yeah. I'll take a number. Thanks so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-5052938935784162967?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/5052938935784162967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=5052938935784162967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5052938935784162967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5052938935784162967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-not-alone-were-all-one-big-happy.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-5157634635008868041</id><published>2009-01-25T23:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T00:19:35.881+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;disgustingly myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall resolve to hate myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dear Brother,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;your last letter&lt;br /&gt;made me think you were here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've finally graduated, brother,&lt;br /&gt;not a kid anymore.&lt;br /&gt;too bad,&lt;br /&gt;you missed the photo-taking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gram left us last week,&lt;br /&gt;cancer, you know?&lt;br /&gt;I stood comforting ma that day,&lt;br /&gt;my duty now, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dad and I sit alone at dinner,&lt;br /&gt;mum doesn't have the heart to eat,&lt;br /&gt;talking's a burden now,&lt;br /&gt;so we don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;doing the dishes,&lt;br /&gt;I can still hear you,&lt;br /&gt;grumbles I used to hate,&lt;br /&gt;grumbles I still remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the bedroom's all mine now,&lt;br /&gt;stretching over two beds,&lt;br /&gt;I bury my head in the pillows,&lt;br /&gt;searching for a long-lost memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw Jean today,&lt;br /&gt;she's looking fine,&lt;br /&gt;she doesn't say it,&lt;br /&gt;but she misses you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;things are bleak,&lt;br /&gt;gray skies,&lt;br /&gt;so quiet,&lt;br /&gt;I can almost hear the guns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Stop the War in Iraq.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-5157634635008868041?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/5157634635008868041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=5157634635008868041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5157634635008868041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5157634635008868041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/disgustingly-myself.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1972607205585416975</id><published>2009-01-24T22:39:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T23:34:36.552+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span colour="#8B008B&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;floating far away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pick 5 Girls:&lt;br /&gt;1. Winnie. Got it from her!&lt;br /&gt;2. Leti&lt;br /&gt;3. Jiao&lt;br /&gt;4. Ash&lt;br /&gt;5. ehhh...Rei!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pick 5 Guys: (Shall take first three from Winnie. PLAGIARISM! Miss Lee would be furious.)&lt;br /&gt;6. Seth&lt;br /&gt;7. Eugene&lt;br /&gt;8. Wern&lt;br /&gt;9. Gabor. Just because.&lt;br /&gt;10. Nathaniel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell us something unique about each of them?&lt;br /&gt;1. We had fun/no fun ignoring each other for three hours.&lt;br /&gt;2. Random impromptu dancer&lt;br /&gt;3. Reminds me of...ME (strange I know. C'mon, who else can I get who'll go, "RENOOOOOOOOOOO!" or "WOOOOOOFUS!" or horror of horrors "KADDDDDDDDDDDAAAAAAAAAAAAJJJJJJJJ!")&lt;br /&gt;4. Ash likes rhymey things.&lt;br /&gt;5. Great for comfort. Don't go near when she is PMS-ing. xD&lt;br /&gt;6. Better not be someone's crush&lt;br /&gt;7. Better be someone's crush.&lt;br /&gt;8. Rugger. Likes things like Bleach. The anime. But he may like the cleaning agent too...&lt;br /&gt;9. Lives in Hungary. Debates are all that we do on MSN.&lt;br /&gt;10. Has had the SAME DP for the last eon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What would you do if No.2 (Leti) came to you and told you she was pregnant and no.9(Gabor) was the father?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd say: What. The. Friggin'. Hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But she wouldn't. Because he lives in Hungary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is no.1 (Winnie) your best friend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty much. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is no.6 (seth) to you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ego freak that better not be SOMEONE's crush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you ever thought about having sex with any of them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Nope. Leti and I have decided that we are "asexual/non-sexual" aka. we won't like anyone that much to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Would you ever kiss any of them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nah. Why would I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If you could pick one girl and one guy to go on vacation with, who do you choose?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Comments on Winnie's answer: Sounds like an evil plot to me! Count me in on that one.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winnie and Wern. The Double-U gang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Which guy and girl do you think you can trust the most?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Comments on Winnie's answer: Why thank you dear.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winnie and Eugene. (that sounded like a pairing!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What would you do if No.3 (Leti) &amp;amp; No.10 (Nat) hooked up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leti and...NAT?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wouldn't be able to pronounce her name!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If no.1 (leti) was in jail, where would you be? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why the hell would we know that that superdamncoolhawt avatar of Kadaj was copyrighted?!"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have any of them seen you cry?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh...Rei has. Over MSN. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are any of them dating each other?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Better not be. Especially not ______ and _______ (fill in the blanks yourself.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are any of them family? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NoperdeeNoperdeeNope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But [quote] all one BIG family in Christ! [/quote]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If you were able to choose a guy and a girl to marry each other, who would it be? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now now. That wouldn't be very nice to say...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh heck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ash and Eugene. Hands down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What would you do if No.8 (wern) cheated on his partner?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slap him and go and comfort the girl. Or the boy. But it better be a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who do you think you couldn’t live without?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winnie - 'cause she's the heart, soul and life of the party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leti - C'mon, who's gonna keep me company when I go all fangirly? (it rhymed!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jiao - Inspiration to keep dancing. And OM-ing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ash - Inspiration for random rhymes and fits of literature quoting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rei - Strength, Loyalty and a good sense of when to "attitude-problem" someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who could you live without?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They made my life different. And I thank them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you ever committed a crime with any of them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ate in class! Next to a Prefect some more! (Winnie and I are PARTNERS IN CRIME! RAWR!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Would you rather wake up next to No.4 (Ash) or No.10 (Nat) ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ash. At Rei's sleepover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm asexual, remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who is No.6 (seth) dating?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Better NOT be someone...............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who is No.2 (Leti) dating?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fatboy! Nah. How should I know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you think No.7 (eugene) smells good?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is there anything you want to tell No.5 (Rei) ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xD Thanks dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If No.1 (Winnie) lied to you what would you do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let it go. Not perfect yo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who have you known the longest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ash. Six years, yo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who have you known the shortest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jiao. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Out of the girls who is the:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tallest: &lt;/span&gt;WINNIE! 2 60 thousand metres! Jiao...(poof)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shortest:&lt;/span&gt; coughAshcough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prettiest:&lt;/span&gt; Leti and Rei. xDD They're gonna kill me round about now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most talkative:&lt;/span&gt; Jiao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most athletic: &lt;/span&gt;Eh...Winnie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outgoing: &lt;/span&gt;Shameless OMlettes and Rei. Rei could be a whole new species on&lt;br /&gt;her own!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shyest: &lt;/span&gt;Leti, when she doesn't know you. Or Winnie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smartest:&lt;/span&gt; Ash. Jiao. Leti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blondest:&lt;/span&gt; Leti would like to assert that she is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oldest: &lt;/span&gt;Ash, Jiao, Rei, Winnie, Leti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Youngest:&lt;/span&gt; Leti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Most likely to be pregnant in the next year:&lt;/span&gt; Bad thoughts. BAD THOUGHTS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Funniest:&lt;/span&gt; All of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Out of the guys, who is the:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tallest: &lt;/span&gt;Eugene (?!?!?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shortest: &lt;/span&gt;Seth. 'cause I want to bruise his ego. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hottest: &lt;/span&gt;WTH?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Most talkative: &lt;/span&gt;-shrugs-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Most Athletic: &lt;/span&gt;Wern. By a mile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Outgoing: &lt;/span&gt;I'd say Seth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shyest: &lt;/span&gt;Wern?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Smartest: &lt;/span&gt;Gabor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Blondest: &lt;/span&gt;shrugs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Oldest&lt;/span&gt;: Gabor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Youngest: &lt;/span&gt;By brain size, Seth. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Most likely to get a girl pregnant in the next year: &lt;/span&gt;Seth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Funniest: &lt;/span&gt;Eugene and his lameness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random quiz is random.&lt;s&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1972607205585416975?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1972607205585416975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1972607205585416975' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1972607205585416975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1972607205585416975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/floating-far-away.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8698173258110067810</id><published>2009-01-24T22:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T22:34:54.379+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and I can't see you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fooooooooooooooooools!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too much has been going on for the last few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My temper is exceptionally lousy now, but I know it's not PMS-ing. It's not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pied, Marilena AND Lady Valtaya have thrown in their chips and left Genesis Awards. Which leaves a gaping hole in it. Poof. Now, Lynn has too. Crap. WTH will we do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm terribly sorry to everyone who's been at the receiving end of my temper. It's not because CNY is coming that I'm saying this. But in the few days of terror, leaving and loneliness, I've realised that I lost too many people because my anger, raging and pride got in the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry y'all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;doesn't matter what I do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8698173258110067810?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8698173258110067810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8698173258110067810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8698173258110067810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8698173258110067810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/and-i-cant-see-you-fooooooooooooooooool.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-3891178178324927147</id><published>2009-01-23T22:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T23:36:22.885+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;holding my hand, we make it through the heavy fog &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It isn't the same in English as in Chinese...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new enemy, LINUX. DIE NAO! My computer's a Linux (I know what you're thinking. what the heck is that?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a great day today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winnie's so nice now. xD Sometimes, fights are in order. They help you remember why you love your friends, and why you'll want them back when you fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leti's pissed at me for badmouthing WOOFUS. Ohwellz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss Chan gave HUGE hints. Miao was emo and sad 'cos she couldn't hellp us anymore. Ash-kun is pro. Michelle was the star of our discussion. Mandy Choo was there with her "WHAT?!" face all the time. And Jiao was there for comic relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The complete cast of "How to Screw your OM script and still get into World Finals". (The first clause has already been fulfilled. The second better be too.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;you told me to look in the dark for hope. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You were right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-3891178178324927147?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/3891178178324927147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=3891178178324927147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3891178178324927147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3891178178324927147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/holding-my-hand-we-make-it-through.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-7119900376294347197</id><published>2009-01-23T19:56:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T20:17:58.664+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;playing God &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God made the heavens and the earth,&lt;br /&gt;beautiful, sanctified, blessed,&lt;br /&gt;then God made creatures&lt;br /&gt;flying, prowling, crawling, walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the human being,&lt;br /&gt;created in God's image,&lt;br /&gt;his finest creation,&lt;br /&gt;his new world's destroyer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;his judgment made them rulers&lt;br /&gt;over all,&lt;br /&gt;betrayed, with a single sin,&lt;br /&gt;God turned his face away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freewill was our privilege,&lt;br /&gt;our downfall,&lt;br /&gt;Man was not content,&lt;br /&gt;playing second fiddle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man made,&lt;br /&gt;Man obliterated,&lt;br /&gt;Man killed,&lt;br /&gt;Man wept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God looked on,&lt;br /&gt;as Man made new that which was old,&lt;br /&gt;as Man rewrought the world,&lt;br /&gt;as was Man's choice to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet God loved Man,&lt;br /&gt;as one loves a first-born,&lt;br /&gt;Man deviant,&lt;br /&gt;God forgiving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-7119900376294347197?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/7119900376294347197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=7119900376294347197' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7119900376294347197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7119900376294347197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/playing-god-god-made-heavens-and-earth.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-9037582316261647842</id><published>2009-01-22T19:28:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T21:54:46.009+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;because it's just a dream  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what makes one person consider you a "friend"? what is the definition of "friend"? do friends only count if they don't fight? or are the ones you argue with the best type of friends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really know now. All the people I called friends now aren't, or border on aren't.  I don't know! Dang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish. I wish. I wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does everything have to be so difficult? Why? I wish, no correction, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wished&lt;/span&gt; that I could find everything out. Find out why friends stay next to my heart, but I still let them step all over me, and still continue being myself and taking it out on my family. I thought I picked the better party. I thought friends were worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;damn. I'm crying. See lah Winnie. I thought. I thought. I thought...I thought you weren't like other girls. Not like me. I thought &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;was smarter than that. Want to get pissy on me? Fine. Just be heartened around now. You made me cry. Laugh your ass off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I thought I knew who my friends were.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when I open up my eyes, I will lose you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-9037582316261647842?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/9037582316261647842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=9037582316261647842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/9037582316261647842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/9037582316261647842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/because-its-just-dream-i-wonder.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1249135111287472842</id><published>2009-01-21T20:43:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T21:12:39.624+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;what sucks? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nownownow...poem. Hmm...Poem. I shall try to "do a Rei" persay. AKA. write a emo little poem about LOVE. Blargh. But then again, it's more like "do a 2008 Anne" write a emo LONG ASS poem about LOVE that sucks. What a friggin' LOAD better...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe...maybe a drabble's more in order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I don't believe in Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe in it. Period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nature has its own silly ways of making us procreate so we can happily fill the planet so we can destroy it just as ignorantly. Humans should just die off, and yes. Yes. That means me too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something that's glorified in art and poetry and prose and all the rest of that...Maybe it's jealousy on my part. I'm cynical by nature, and violent to boot. No one's ever going to like me. I've accustomed myself to that fact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can say this, for myself and by myself. I don't dislike Love just because I won't ever get the chance to feel it. I dislike it because it makes people do things that are, let's face it, stupid. I can take the kissing, the having-someone-by-your-side-who-TOTALLY-understands-you, oh yeah, I get all that. Marriage is a fine ideal. So is growing old and dying together. That's sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I don't get is how people feel so strongly about the LACK of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude. You're looking at a girl who still hangs onto Pooh Bear at night, plays pretend with her sister, is flat-chested as anything, beats boys up and laughs, swears sometimes, yells, and is generally unpleasant to deal with. (And if you're my friend, you know this more than ever.) Do you think she has LOVE? No. No romance for a mile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gawds. I feel bad sometimes that I don't/won't have the chance to see how it feels like. But generally, I don't mind. Doesn't really matter. I have my mum, my dad, my sister, grandparents, aunts/uncles/cousins, friends AND Odyssey of the Mind. My life's full. Sorry y'all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe in Love. Period.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1249135111287472842?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1249135111287472842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1249135111287472842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1249135111287472842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1249135111287472842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-sucks-everything.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-3505570740821898716</id><published>2009-01-19T18:03:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T19:19:00.353+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the sadness settles like fog, just won't let up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;introductions&lt;br /&gt;always wanted to feel wanted,&lt;br /&gt;-she's popular, you're not-&lt;br /&gt;now you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the start,&lt;br /&gt;wave, "Hi", passes&lt;br /&gt;-finding footholds firm enough-&lt;br /&gt;CCA, how's OM treating you, bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;rising rapidly,&lt;br /&gt;little pieces of gossip,&lt;br /&gt;-nasty? maybe-&lt;br /&gt;about other girls, laughs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;middle, climax,&lt;br /&gt;giggles, small comments,&lt;br /&gt;-not too loud though-&lt;br /&gt;trying to impress&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;falling down,&lt;br /&gt;apart, out.&lt;br /&gt;-sobs and loud voices ring-&lt;br /&gt;magnetic forces die after a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quieten down,&lt;br /&gt;apologize&lt;br /&gt;-was it even my fault?-&lt;br /&gt;repair it bit by bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;laugh a little,&lt;br /&gt;pretend a little&lt;br /&gt;-that's what friends are for-&lt;br /&gt;is it for real?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sigh. That sucked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-3505570740821898716?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/3505570740821898716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=3505570740821898716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3505570740821898716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3505570740821898716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/sadness-settles-like-fog-just-wont-let.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-4945673890999800367</id><published>2009-01-18T09:16:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T18:33:19.087+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;you caught me off guard &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy post ahoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish everyone could feel the joy that is God's love. I woke up today with a horrid dream, and I was so shaken I just lay in bed and stared frenziedly at the ceiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I went to get a bible from the shelf, which is what I sometimes do after nightmares. I read my favourite verse (1st Corinthians 1:25 to 28) and there was this feeling of calm that settled over me. It was nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was church, which was usual, not bad. Fr. Yim's sermon was really funny and I didn't go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Kitty's party, which consisted of loads of photos, bowling straight into the drain and trashing the other group during our bowling session.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Sunday's always been my lucky day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(happy now Eugene?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;now I'm running and screaming.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-4945673890999800367?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/4945673890999800367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=4945673890999800367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4945673890999800367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4945673890999800367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/you-caught-me-off-guard-happy-post-ahoy.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-3013421525736036130</id><published>2009-01-17T21:19:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T21:55:05.991+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;inspiration dawns in the darkest of times. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The misery of Zack and Aerith's relationship hit home yesterday when I banged out a drabble/oneshot of angst and longing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to, at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me pretty sad everytime I write/read one of those. Must be something to do with "that queer feeling" that me and Leti call the EMO feeling. I just keep writing, trying to write something happy for them, but I can't ever do that. So confusing. Stupid Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah yes. I was commissioned by Eugene not to write a EMO POST persay. Which means I write about...? Hmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;happiness is a choice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when you're waiting for hours for parents to pick you up, and you're the last sorry person waiting with an impatient security guard,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(but you don't call them, even if you're so veryveryvery hungry. Because they're your parents and they'll come, sooner or later.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when you're finding that everything that you thought beautiful and perfect becomes horrid and wrong each time you see it, and you're so veryveryvery angry with yourself,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(still, you don't do anything but improve it. You know you won't ever be happy with your work, but you can always fool yourself by working on it more.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when you're with a gazillion Sec 1s who look lost, bratty and unbelievably conscious of their dressing, and you're itching sososo bad to go and unbutton that top button of that girl in front of you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(instead, you just smile at them and ask how you can help.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when you're sitting at the meeting table, wondering how you're going to pull off a lousy Spontaneous answer, or how you're going to contribute when everyone else has already said everything, and you want to be good, you WANT to contribute, because you want to feel a part of the group,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(then someone (it doesn't matter who.) smiles at you, or you share a long laugh, and you know it doesn't really matter at all.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when you're telling a story to cousins who understand planes, jets, rockets and killing machines, but don't understand about princesses, princes, and how you can dream of happy endings,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(but then again, you know that not every story's ever going to have a happy ending, and you try to make the best of the story, even though you get little niggling voices that protest.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when you don't know how you really feel towards some people, you can be friends, yet feel like you're constantly trying to change yourself to please them,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(then you get a MSN chat pop-up that tells you that they gave you a Reno picture as a present, even when it's not your birthday yet.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when you don't talk to your best friends anymore, and spend your time trying to impress your new ones,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(you can only try to forget that they're doing the same.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and I want to choose it someday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-3013421525736036130?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/3013421525736036130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=3013421525736036130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3013421525736036130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3013421525736036130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/inspiration-dawns-in-darkest-of-times.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8054517482697638071</id><published>2009-01-16T22:37:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T22:57:37.953+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;things can go from bad to worse, and there's no coming back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There comes a point, when you can no longer take it, and all that blackness coiled in that place near your left lung, that thing called your heart, all explodes into a blinding miasma of hatred. That, my dears, THAT tells you that everything's just gonna be horrid from then on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go on. Tell me I'm stupid. Tell me I'm lousy, tell me I'm poking fingers at EVERYONE else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It does NOT help, not ONE BIT, that I'm tired, out-of-sorts, and pissed at the world. This keyboard shall be the victim of my anger-venting. But this will be blackened, so the world can choose what they want to see, and what they don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I hate you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I friggin' HATE you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;You get to talk to MY friends, the ones who aren't as bad as you, speak about how TERRIBLE I am, say how CRUDE and FREAK-LIKE I can be, everything. And HOLY SHMOLEY, you're SO much more influential than I am. Brilliant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;And you get to go "Anne..." in that HORRIFYINGLY irritating voice, and tell ME how to deal with MY friends. You have no idea how hard I try for my friends. Who's the bloody person who does notes for her friends? Who's the person whose taken notes for YOU? Who's the person that finds her friends drifting away because of YOU?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I think that would be me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;So go on, have a happy little life with your FRIENDS, and your BUDDIES, and your whole POSSE of people. I'm not going to try anymore. Don't blame me. I've tried my best to like you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;There's a line, and you just crossed it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Now, I just hate you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8054517482697638071?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8054517482697638071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8054517482697638071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8054517482697638071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8054517482697638071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/things-can-go-from-bad-to-worse-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-6558122850078822</id><published>2009-01-16T19:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T20:26:11.232+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when all things fade away &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dragged myself to school and got RIDICULED by a STUPID CHINESE TEACHER who strikes me as downright weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chen Lao Shi: (translated to English) What's your GPA?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: ...2.4?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chen Lao Shi: WAAAAA ZHE ME CHA ARH?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh...I've long resigned myself to my dismal Chinese fate. Evil teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was Physics, which makes me sad, 'cause the class likes to bully poor Mr Yap, but he tries very hard. I listened! I say hi to him when he comes out of the Staffroom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was...lots of other things. Little conflicts with...people. And I no like talk about such things. As sure as that is terrible grammar that would put a hell of a lot of grammar-criminals to shame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there was the saving grace of English and Literature. If that wasn't heaven, those two hours of pure and true appreciation for English are as close as I'll ever get. Miss Lee really rules. Owns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The passage for today's compre (Gawd, I'm pretty darned desperate if I think Comprehension is amazing) was so true. So amazing. So heart-wrenchingly sad. Poor people have it bad. Sniff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was OM. Saving grace of the day after English. I love my OM group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That means, Leti, Winnie, Ash, Jiao, Michelle Ng, Mandy Choo, and MISS CHAN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went home with MANDY CHOO and MICHELLE NG on 132 afterwards. Had fun with cool gummy strings that we mixed with seaweed rings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;happyhappyhappyiamhappyhappyhappy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saying it enough might make me believe it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-6558122850078822?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/6558122850078822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=6558122850078822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6558122850078822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6558122850078822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/when-all-things-fade-away-what-happened.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-6096860299885016356</id><published>2009-01-15T17:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T18:00:43.344+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;things I'll never understand &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love. Gawds, it's always about LOVE. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People tell me it's all WRONG to say you love your FRIENDS. Wrong wrong wrong. It sounds wrong, it IS wrong, why? You can say you love a guy even when you know you don't, you can say you love your pets even though they scratch up your couch or drool on your lap or stink up your kitchen, but you can't love your friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just found myself a friend. Some German (?) guy said that Love is simply Nature tricking us into procreating. I second this fully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, I second that ROMANTIC (heterosexual) LOVE is that way. But Friendship, 'tis Love. Familial Bonds, 'tis Love too. Complicated, but I like it that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OM rocks my socks, but skiing's the one that freezes my toes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-6096860299885016356?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/6096860299885016356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=6096860299885016356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6096860299885016356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6096860299885016356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/things-ill-never-understand-love.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-9018279032736380912</id><published>2009-01-14T22:06:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T22:46:55.828+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;if life were a fanfiction &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone would be subjected to my god-awful writing! Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, if life were anything BUT life, we'd actually have much more fun and much less boring monotony that paints our days of gray. Imagine days where we'd steal some ancient treasure, kill some bad guys, rid the world of mayhem and save it from peril and in the process, get some makeovers done. Sounds pretty darned good yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;if life were an OM script &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone would be subjected to my god-awful writing! AGAIN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True, life would be really corny, funny and pure CRACK. We'd all be nutcases with mental problems and bipolar-ism (what the hell is the noun for this??) and a nice big helping of SINGING and LAME JOKES. Anyhoo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-9018279032736380912?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/9018279032736380912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=9018279032736380912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/9018279032736380912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/9018279032736380912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/if-life-were-fanfiction-everyone-would.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-445333046930721324</id><published>2009-01-13T21:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T22:11:52.328+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;all I wanted was your love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but then again, sometimes the poorest pauper can have what the richest man cannot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is very stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes you do stupid things, like lash out at your friends, do things you normally wouldn't do, and jump off buildings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one in their right mind should love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but humans are stupid too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They bomb each other because they want to piss each other off. They happily forget loved ones, but still make a great deal out of crying at funerals. They can gladly step on everyone else to get higher in the social ladder. They stab people in the back because they lack the courage to shoot people face to face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love + humans = Ultimate stupidity. Oh whoopee. No WONDER we're such a stupid race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sea water is salty&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;true isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;life is a pain.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to sell you something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesh, yesh they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Geog notes are boring &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How true is THAT?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anne is proud to self-deprecate. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-445333046930721324?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/445333046930721324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=445333046930721324' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/445333046930721324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/445333046930721324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/all-i-wanted-was-your-love-but-then.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-6234345950460718825</id><published>2009-01-13T19:13:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T20:40:54.307+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Obvious Madness, OM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Saint Anne!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?&lt;br /&gt;When our OM fell apa-art!&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Nope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE LUNCH MEAT?&lt;br /&gt;Bacon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?&lt;br /&gt;Noooooooooooooooooo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?&lt;br /&gt;Nope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?&lt;br /&gt;Yep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?&lt;br /&gt;What? How the hell would I know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?&lt;br /&gt;Yep.&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?&lt;br /&gt;Yuck. Cereal...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?&lt;br /&gt;No, saves time!&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?&lt;br /&gt;Noooooooooo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?&lt;br /&gt;Haagen Daz Macadamia Nut Ice Cream!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?&lt;br /&gt;How they speak English.&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. RED OR PINK?&lt;br /&gt;RED, duhhhhhhhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF?&lt;br /&gt;I'm shhhhtttttttooooooooopppppppppppid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?&lt;br /&gt;My mummy! I don't see her anymore (Ash's answer: SETH! O.O, ash....)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?&lt;br /&gt;Wearing a dress and no shoes. Lewzer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?&lt;br /&gt;Ball Cakes! Xiao Man Tou! munchingnoises&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?&lt;br /&gt;When She Loved Me - Sarah Mclachlen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?&lt;br /&gt;Orange through and through&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. FAVORITE SMELLS?&lt;br /&gt;Mummy's cooking! xD Mum so rulez (coughmorethantheOMlettescough)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?&lt;br /&gt;Huijun, down with the feeeeeeeeeeevvvvvvvveeeeeeeeerrrrrr&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?&lt;br /&gt;Ehh...stolen. But I love Ashlynna! xD Sweet girly.&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. WHO DO YOU HATE?&lt;br /&gt;Ahemyoudon'tknowherahem.&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. HAIR COLOR?&lt;br /&gt;I'm adamant that it's brown.&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. EYE COLOR?&lt;br /&gt;I'm adamant that it's brown.&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes...&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. FAVORITE FOOD?&lt;br /&gt;Pig Organ Soup OMNOMNOM!&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?&lt;br /&gt;Scary. No one, not even in movies, deserves a happy ending.&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. LAST MOVIE YOU WENT TO SEE?&lt;br /&gt;Yes Man! (in AMERICA xD)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?&lt;br /&gt;Dress. Grey.&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. SUMMER OR WINTER?&lt;br /&gt;Summer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. HUGS OR KISSES?&lt;br /&gt;Huggles! The OMlettes rule for hugs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. FAVORITE DESSERT?&lt;br /&gt;The bestest bestest one? Nothing! Lose weight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?&lt;br /&gt;TKMB the BOOK. For the...Idunnohowmany-eth time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?&lt;br /&gt;No mouse pad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON T.V. LAST NIGHT?&lt;br /&gt;TOMB RAIDER (which has NO plot)&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. FAVORITE SOUND?&lt;br /&gt;Mum cooking. (how do you tell that I'm superduper hungry?)&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?&lt;br /&gt;Beatles through and through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. WHAT IS THE FURTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?&lt;br /&gt;America!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?&lt;br /&gt;Singapore. xP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay for quizzes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE OM SKWIPT IS DONE! YESYESYES!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EGGxhausted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-6234345950460718825?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/6234345950460718825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=6234345950460718825' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6234345950460718825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6234345950460718825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/obvious-madness-om-1.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-6120284428078779099</id><published>2009-01-12T21:37:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T21:56:43.407+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when things suck, they suck. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish things could look up sometimes. Makes me feel happier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my sister! &lt;333 Yay! (except when she does better and makes me feel all low down and miserable).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my Grandmother! &lt;333 She helped me in my Du Hou Gan that would have killed me otherwise. And she's so POWERFUL (that's it! Scream it like the three!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When things suck, they suck. Big time. I can cry at the way I can hold onto rigid patterns because I can't seem to go spontaneous. Stupid stupid stupid. I keep barreling forward, so scared to see the next thing that will make me feel utterly inadequate, too afraid to find out that I'm not the best, not even in the things I want (how I want) to be good in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life's like a game of blackjack. You have the choice of whether to take what Life will give you, but you can't determine what is gives you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only I could feel satisfied. But I'm condemned to be the ever-wanting human, mortal, that I am. Stupid life. I'm pissed with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;self-deprecation is a nicer way to say I'm being an ass. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet all my friends can boast of hearing some very emo, angsty, random things I can spout. I'm such a loser.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-6120284428078779099?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/6120284428078779099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=6120284428078779099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6120284428078779099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6120284428078779099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/when-things-suck-they-suck.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-541047803266965396</id><published>2009-01-11T17:01:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T17:38:22.269+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when I go mad, I want you there to help me back to sanity. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendship to me is just like that. You can never expect much from friends, but this is always a nice ideal to work towards...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends are never here to talk to all of a sudden. Like the world just ended, and we just didn't know it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-541047803266965396?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/541047803266965396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=541047803266965396' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/541047803266965396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/541047803266965396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/when-i-go-mad-i-want-you-there-to-help.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8525235367170191570</id><published>2009-01-10T22:01:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T22:29:42.484+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When trying your best isn't anywhere near enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leti and I are becoming better friends every day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need nicer titles...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, when it''s only you pulling the strings to keep everything going, when everything ends up on your plate to do, when you find all that glittery nice badges that you can pin on, all those ohsowanted commitments, are simply more weight, you get this feeling, "a queer ache" to quote Anne of Green Gables, and you just know that your best can sometimes not be enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the same when you're talking, all happy and chipper, as if your life could lighten for a bit, and then "the deep but dazzling darkness", to quote A Ring of Endless Light, overtakes you with its velvet embrace and you're swallowed into this pit where, you know, none of your family or friends can pull you out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've got to crawl out yourself, or, as they say, "lose yourself in the process".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But losing yourself allows a fresh start. You can change your life by wiping it clean to start over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay! In the style of the GREAT LETI, I shall post multiple times. Next one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;changing wavelengths... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;That glove fits just wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gawds. Reno. He makes me feel happy again. For a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In relation to my last post, I don't particularly hate my friends for doing that. In fact, it's oddly nice to be helpful. Better than being unpopular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my Sec 1s love me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, I have to force myself to stay happy. Someone needs to, so I shall try to live up to my enthu potential, like telling all the lame jokes I know, learning all their names (amanda, melissa (ah lian!), pearlyn, michelle (short girl), LIANA!!!!), teaching them cheers. Anne: Must be enthu!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, OM! Gawds...where to start first?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks MIAO! Miao, world. World, Miao. The greatest person that ever lived. Who would come up with Spons like "How you'd scoop water out of a pond?" or "Types of pie"? HER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks ASH! The soul provider of ANTI-DIGRESSION in our group! Without Mandy, you're our only hope at a semblance of on-task-ness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks LETI! The unique blend of FF7, shouts of "RENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" and "HAAAAA-LEEEEEEEE-LUUUUUUUUUU-JAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!", not to mention some hefty dashes of nutty bipolar behavioral traits that make her just like me. I've met the GIRL of my dreams. Cue Avenue Q: But I'm not gay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks WINNIE! The amazingness of talking with someone, both of you TRYING YOUR &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;UTMOST &lt;/span&gt;to self-deprecate, is just awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks JIAO! The dancing? Very cool. The Spon? Very silly. The girl? Awesomeness yo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks MICHELLE! Gawds, you were WONDERFUL today! The ideas just KEPT COMING. Wonder of OM yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks AMANDA! You weren't here today, we missed your enlightening presence. Come next time yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks HUIFEI! We were too busy chatting to take those pictures of all the Sec 1s high-jumping. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huffpuff. Thanking ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;changing wavelengths...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If it doesn't fit, you can try to force it, but it never works.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When things don't go your way, don't try to make them do so. It's just a waste of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your friends like guys you happen to DISlike, heck. Their choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you joke, bring up stupid things like "Can I give you DIS PEAR?" Always works. Also "What's brown and sticky?" works pretty well too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep smiling, even if it's fake. Life's all about acting. Life is a stage (?) and we are merely players.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. Done. Phew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Tag?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8525235367170191570?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8525235367170191570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8525235367170191570' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8525235367170191570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8525235367170191570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/when-trying-your-best-isnt-anywhere.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-7092228155256532864</id><published>2009-01-08T21:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T21:35:08.834+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've had this horrific discovery. Not again, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thing is, I've discovered that friendship is, like love, overrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your friends love you? Will die for you? Yeah, right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're just around long enough to get what they want because, face it, the world is kiasu, kiasi and just wants the best to themselves. &lt;----- Period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do try for my friends, take notes during lessons, drag my sorry ass up so I can listen to some Geography teacher so I can tell my friend what she said cos my friends happily SLEEP during lesson time. Oh whoopee! Everyone, let's take advantage of Anne now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take today for example. I can say hi to my DEAR BEST FRIEND Zi Xin, and she hardly says anything. Wait, I'm sorry. She didn't even SEE me. Oh Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only person I can trust with friendship, truly, is Melissa Tham Seen Mun. I've seen what friends do to each other to "get back" at each other. That they're prepared to drop everything in friendship to do something utterly underhanded, it's despicable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone support me making a Facebook Group called "I hate Seth Chan"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aru does. xD&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-7092228155256532864?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/7092228155256532864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=7092228155256532864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7092228155256532864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7092228155256532864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/ive-had-this-horrific-discovery.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-4969613832240290871</id><published>2009-01-07T23:13:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T23:29:44.272+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So, it's final then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm changing CCA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided, for myself, that I can't take Judo anymore. My stature makes it easy to be thrown and hard to throw, as well as my weakling-status makes it very difficult for me to do anything vaguely Judo-ish. The RaJukas may decide to kill me, but I can't. No more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girls' Brigade was my first and only choice. Friends was one thing. But God was the biggest reason. I want to further my relationship with God. I don't want him as just a God, I want him as a friend. I want to talk to him when there's no one else, and I want to have the faith to know he's next to me, letting me take my haywire life in circles, but trying to steer me into the "straight and narrow" path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so scared that I have to go back to Judo for more trainings if I didn't fulfill the quota for it. I may have "ponned" sessions, but for most part, it was really because I couldn't make it. With OM for the month of November, preparations for my trip, and me needing to help out around the house, I didn't go, and then there was December with my trip. So God help me, I couldn't do anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you Rajukas, veryveryvery much. But I've never been a real Judoka that you guys can be proud of. I will go back and support you in every competition, regardless of OM (unless it's the Finals for OM, but prob not) or anything else. Promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gawd, my seniors should hate me now, rightly so. I shall go and emo in a corner.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-4969613832240290871?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/4969613832240290871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=4969613832240290871' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4969613832240290871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/4969613832240290871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-its-final-then.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8678011102186457199</id><published>2009-01-05T21:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T21:43:46.056+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Far Away"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; This time, This place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Misused, Mistakes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Too long, Too late&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Who was I to make you wait&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Just one chance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Just one breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Just in case there's just one left&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; 'Cause you know,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; you know, you know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;i style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;[CHORUS]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; That I love you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; I have loved you all along&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; And I miss you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Been far away for far too long&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; I keep dreaming you'll be with me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; and you'll never go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Stop breathing if&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; I don't see you anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; On my knees, I'll ask&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Last chance for one last dance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; 'Cause with you, I'd withstand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; All of hell to hold your hand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; I'd give it all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; I'd give for us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Give anything but I won't give up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; 'Cause you know,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; you know, you know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;i style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;[CHORUS]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; So far away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Been far away for far too long&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; So far away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Been far away for far too long&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; But you know, you know, you know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; I wanted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; I wanted you to stay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; 'Cause I needed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; I need to hear you say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; That I love you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; I have loved you all along&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; And I forgive you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; For being away for far too long&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; So keep breathing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; 'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Believe it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Hold on to me and, never let me go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Keep breathing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; 'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Believe it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Hold on to me and, never let me go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Keep breathing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Hold on to me and, never let me go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Keep breathing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Hold on to me and, never let me go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best song in YEARS. It's so nice. And the MV is an EPIC WIN, persay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh but, thank the Leti, I've found another beaut song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERYTHING'S FALLING APPPAAA-ART!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Avenue Q, always, rules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OM's FALLING APA-ART!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's whooping my ass. **** you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8678011102186457199?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8678011102186457199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8678011102186457199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8678011102186457199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8678011102186457199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/far-away-this-time-this-place-misused.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8472978348786270503</id><published>2009-01-04T12:22:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T12:47:34.333+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fools&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You let yourself believe&lt;br /&gt;all the lies&lt;br /&gt;that he painted for you.&lt;br /&gt;That he really loved you,&lt;br /&gt;that he really cared,&lt;br /&gt;kind of sad, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to tell you,&lt;br /&gt;I told you it was too good to be true,&lt;br /&gt;you never listened to me.&lt;br /&gt;But, I keep in the&lt;br /&gt;"I told you"s and&lt;br /&gt;the "Should have known better"s&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I take you in,&lt;br /&gt;as a best friend should,&lt;br /&gt;soothing you,&lt;br /&gt;cursing him&lt;br /&gt;to hear your wet laughter,&lt;br /&gt;because I don't know what else to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;instead of with him,&lt;br /&gt;you're stuck with me tonight.&lt;br /&gt;I stay awake, hugging you close,&lt;br /&gt;listening to the sobs,&lt;br /&gt;feeling the pangs of sympathy,&lt;br /&gt;jealousy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we're both fools in love,&lt;br /&gt;I more than you,&lt;br /&gt;you let yourself love,&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't even do that&lt;br /&gt;too scared&lt;br /&gt;to be hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you've lost your faith in fairytales,&lt;br /&gt;as have I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A/N: Kinda silly, now that I think about it. Oh heck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8472978348786270503?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8472978348786270503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8472978348786270503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8472978348786270503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8472978348786270503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/fools-you-let-yourself-believe-all-lies.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-2625268206930569520</id><published>2009-01-03T18:31:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T19:03:00.427+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Commonwealth Essay</title><content type='html'>In introspect,&lt;br /&gt;beauty is in the eye of the beholder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;welcoming me back,&lt;br /&gt;only the blue,&lt;br /&gt;forever the blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;rain falling&lt;br /&gt;the sky maiden's tears,&lt;br /&gt;are they for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; each step towards the blue,&lt;br /&gt;chains broken,&lt;br /&gt; so light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the coolness around my ankles,&lt;br /&gt;and then encasing legs completely,&lt;br /&gt;and then my chest in a lover's embrace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blue-indigo-black, glowing moving flowing&lt;br /&gt;the clear that swallows you whole,&lt;br /&gt;possessing you completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the sea carries lifts supports me,&lt;br /&gt;the tranquil waters flow around me,&lt;br /&gt;inside me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God gave me my set of wings early,&lt;br /&gt;now,&lt;br /&gt;freedom's so close,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can feel it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(inspired by THE GREAT LETI'S awesome CW essay, "The Sea")&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-2625268206930569520?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/2625268206930569520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=2625268206930569520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2625268206930569520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2625268206930569520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/commonwealth-essay.html' title='Commonwealth Essay'/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8402785087068483166</id><published>2009-01-02T23:44:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T23:54:53.556+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt;1. &lt;b&gt;My friends are&lt;/b&gt; strange&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;b&gt;I am listening&lt;/b&gt; to Nickelback.&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;b&gt;Maybe i should learn to&lt;/b&gt; not think I can write.&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;b&gt;I love&lt;/b&gt; fanfiction.&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;b&gt;My plan is&lt;/b&gt; to go to Yale! (nah...)&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;b&gt;I don't understand&lt;/b&gt; life and love.&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;b&gt;I lost&lt;/b&gt; my sanity a long time ago.&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;b&gt;People say &lt;/b&gt;I'm pretty okay at writing, but heck what they say. I'm not, yo.&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;b&gt;I am missing&lt;/b&gt; America. Immigrate NOW.&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;b&gt;Love&lt;/b&gt; is OVERRATED!&lt;br /&gt;11. &lt;b&gt;Somewhere&lt;/b&gt; over the rainbow, I'll find something red and ponytail-like attached to a fictional game character. Whom I will immediately glomp.&lt;br /&gt;12. &lt;b&gt;I am always searching&lt;/b&gt; for better writing examples.&lt;br /&gt;13. &lt;b&gt;Forever&lt;/b&gt; is a very long time, Pooh.&lt;br /&gt;14. &lt;b&gt;I never want&lt;/b&gt; to love.&lt;br /&gt;15. &lt;b&gt;My mobile phone&lt;/b&gt; is scratched.&lt;br /&gt;16. &lt;b&gt;When I wake up&lt;/b&gt; I start to worry about the day.&lt;br /&gt;17. &lt;b&gt;I get annoyed &lt;/b&gt;all the time.&lt;br /&gt;18. &lt;b&gt;Parties stands&lt;/b&gt; = Bad grammar = Written by Eugene&lt;br /&gt;19. &lt;b&gt;Hugs or kisses?&lt;/b&gt; Hugs.&lt;br /&gt;20. &lt;b&gt;Today is&lt;/b&gt; gone far far away.&lt;br /&gt;21. &lt;b&gt;Tomorrow is&lt;/b&gt; to worry about.&lt;br /&gt;22. &lt;b&gt;I really want&lt;/b&gt; to scream.&lt;br /&gt;23. &lt;b&gt;I love&lt;/b&gt; no one but my family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;24. &lt;b&gt;What is your phone brand?&lt;/b&gt; sony ericsson&lt;br /&gt;25. &lt;b&gt;What is the last 3 digits in your phone number?&lt;/b&gt; 963. Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;26. &lt;b&gt;What does the 2nd message inyour inbox say?&lt;/b&gt; That my mum bought me ang ku kueh and poong kueh for lunch!&lt;br /&gt;27. &lt;b&gt;Who was the last person you rang?&lt;/b&gt; THAT person.&lt;br /&gt;28. &lt;b&gt;Who was the last missed call from?&lt;/b&gt; My phone doesn't have caller ID. Ack.&lt;br /&gt;29. &lt;b&gt;What does the oldest msg in your inbox say?&lt;/b&gt; That it's no prooblem and that Eugene wants me to continue to write in some RGS book and tell him what happens in the story.&lt;br /&gt;30. &lt;b&gt;Who comes after J?&lt;/b&gt; K, dumbass.&lt;br /&gt;31. &lt;b&gt;Go to your sent messages- What does the tenth message say?&lt;/b&gt; You too dear!&lt;br /&gt;32. &lt;b&gt;Who is your network provider?&lt;/b&gt; shrugs.&lt;br /&gt;33. &lt;b&gt;How many messages are there in your inbox?&lt;/b&gt; Quite a few.&lt;br /&gt;34. &lt;b&gt;Who do you have on speed dail 3?&lt;/b&gt; Dad...I think.&lt;br /&gt;35. &lt;b&gt;If you are on prepaid card, how much credit do you have?&lt;/b&gt; I have my own SIM! No prepaid! xDD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stolen from winnie with thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8402785087068483166?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8402785087068483166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8402785087068483166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8402785087068483166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8402785087068483166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/1.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8589454418534086086</id><published>2009-01-01T18:52:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T21:43:01.890+08:00</updated><title type='text'>New blogskin. Same old me.</title><content type='html'>I know New Year's supposed to start off with a bang, persay. But now, all I can think about is last year, that I'm still in last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were many things in 2008. Cyclones, politics, black men beating republicans and a very disgruntled woman, and most of all economies crashing terribly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, there were so many things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judo happened to me. So did new friends, poetry and failing Chinese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was writing. There was the rise of the grammar Nazi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was Genesis Awards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was Mad the Badass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was Rachel and there was Gabor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in OM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's everything good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poetry used to be everything for me. Now it's not. It's fanfiction. That's changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've lost one cowriter, but I guess I don't mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting braces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in OM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything's SPIRALING OUT OF CONTROL. (see it? See the OM injected in it!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, onto the poetry. Yay me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Embrace it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the new year has come,&lt;br /&gt;many things aren't the same,&lt;br /&gt;embrace it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;changes are everywhere,&lt;br /&gt;as is the reluctance to change,&lt;br /&gt;embrace it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;death might come,&lt;br /&gt;but so will life,&lt;br /&gt;embrace it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ends will come,&lt;br /&gt;as beginnings will too,&lt;br /&gt;embrace it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;friends will come,&lt;br /&gt;and friends will go,&lt;br /&gt;embrace it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;new will come,&lt;br /&gt;and old will go,&lt;br /&gt;embrace it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally got off my ass and did my Commonwealth essay. FINALLY done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Rachel the beta and Eugene the Nazi, the essay is proud to be read worthy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8589454418534086086?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8589454418534086086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8589454418534086086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8589454418534086086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8589454418534086086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-blogskin-same-old-me.html' title='New blogskin. Same old me.'/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-2856968039332366284</id><published>2008-12-31T23:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T23:43:28.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Inferiority Complex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere I turn,&lt;br /&gt;just more walls&lt;br /&gt;in my life,&lt;br /&gt;in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unreachable heights&lt;br /&gt;treacherous falls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(don't tell me I'm good enough,&lt;br /&gt;I'm notnotnotNOT)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a chasm&lt;br /&gt;where I can dream of being the best,&lt;br /&gt;Stop that voice in my head,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Not ever going to be good enough.)&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Stay away, stay away,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(stop telling me the good)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;keep away from the madness.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(It's the bad I want to hear)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the little cuts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(inferior, not good enough, lousy) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to keep me grounded&lt;br /&gt;no fantasies to enclose me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The softness that fades away,&lt;br /&gt;the comfort that's short-lasting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Stay in reality)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(I won't ever need to fall again.)&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-2856968039332366284?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/2856968039332366284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=2856968039332366284' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2856968039332366284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2856968039332366284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/12/inferiority-complex-everywhere-i-turn.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-575408682412111754</id><published>2008-12-30T23:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T00:51:16.036+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Blog...dying...help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago, I did two things that were catastrophic. One, I wrote a YUFFENTINE. *dies* It's been the hardest thing I've written in SUCH a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, I happily deleted at least 10 of my Honest-to-God LOUSY fanfics from FF.Net. Yes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guess what? I'm inspired, by the great LETITIA to write a poem. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Best Friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm enclosed in a box,&lt;br /&gt;that's comforting as it's encompassing.&lt;br /&gt;Safe from everything that hurts,&lt;br /&gt;all those lies that you tell me every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where I'm still your best friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tell me I'm your best friend.&lt;br /&gt;You think that's enough.&lt;br /&gt;It &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;should&lt;/span&gt; be enough.&lt;br /&gt;But it isn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm selfish,&lt;br /&gt;I want to stay the way we were,&lt;br /&gt;the only one I talk to,&lt;br /&gt;the only one you confide in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I thought we were best friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want you to tell me&lt;br /&gt;the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me,&lt;br /&gt;the good with the bad.&lt;br /&gt;the smiles with their frowns,&lt;br /&gt;the sun and those rainclouds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me,&lt;br /&gt;the stories I thought silly,&lt;br /&gt;the fairytales,&lt;br /&gt;from its "Once Upon a Time"&lt;br /&gt;to its "Happily Ever After".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The way best friends do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go back to the time when we were,&lt;br /&gt;just kids,&lt;br /&gt;no expectations,&lt;br /&gt;innocence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go back to the time when we were,&lt;br /&gt;able to cry on each other,&lt;br /&gt;able to laugh at each other,&lt;br /&gt;able to laugh &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;with &lt;/span&gt;each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go back to the time when we were,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;still best friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss that playground,&lt;br /&gt;that swing,&lt;br /&gt;that smile,&lt;br /&gt;that childhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss that pool,&lt;br /&gt;that swim,&lt;br /&gt;that smell-of-chlorine-that-clogs-your-nose,&lt;br /&gt;that childhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss that laugh,&lt;br /&gt;I miss that friend,&lt;br /&gt;I miss being the "best",&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I miss you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't lie to me,&lt;br /&gt;thinking it'll make me happier.&lt;br /&gt;Just let me fall,&lt;br /&gt;so I can find a better way to get up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That's what best friends do.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And bring back that best friend&lt;br /&gt;I used to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know you've lost it when your best friend becomes your enemy, your enemy becomes your crush and your crush becomes your best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, I haven't lost it yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm scarred at the moment, so please, give me some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my, I guess I really miss my best friend, and the time that it was still possible to have one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I settle for good friends. It's like I've lost all my sanity right? Maybe I have. For tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M/A&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-575408682412111754?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/575408682412111754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=575408682412111754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/575408682412111754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/575408682412111754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/12/blog.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-794544481558228002</id><published>2008-12-27T15:00:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T15:26:26.730+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You could mean Everything to Me (~ LETI)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;but you can't. Hah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyways, on with the crazy EMO and PISSY post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to live in America. If I could immigrate RIGHT NOW, I'd go and NEVER look back. Sorry y'all, but the Land of the Free calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll live in Yosemite National Park and write everyday. The most beautiful place in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas, it was not to be. To quote,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;Is this a dream?&lt;br /&gt;If it is&lt;br /&gt;Please don't wake me from this high&lt;br /&gt;I'd become comfortably numb&lt;br /&gt;Until you opened up my eyes"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not fair when you see how they live so contentedly without anything but the trees, the water and the mountains. Not friggin' fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second thing. I hatehatehatehatehatehatehate FF.Net, even when I lovelovelovelovelovelovelove it. It's confusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish my stories were better. I wish I wrote better. I wish I could write things people want to read and WANT TO REVIEW. I wish I were Mengde, Pen, Tasha, La.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It sucks like a vacuum, it sucks like a tornado, it sucks like...something really sucky."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I HAVE to quote Pen. Sigh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Takes a deep breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should get off this. WE HAVE TO DO OM LIKE NOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M/A&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-794544481558228002?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/794544481558228002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=794544481558228002' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/794544481558228002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/794544481558228002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/12/you-could-mean-everything-to-me-leti.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-3499164090604933488</id><published>2008-11-29T22:58:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T23:00:24.115+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sound the nuptial bells! I'm getting married!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I know what you're thinking. She's too young to get married. But yo, this place made me finally believe in LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. (laugh all you want Rei, this is the only time it will be applicable to me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after a tumultuous courtship, I have been proposed to, and i kindly accepted.&lt;br /&gt;___________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Moiranne Rose&lt;/span&gt;, take &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fanfiction &lt;/span&gt;as my lawfully wedded spouse.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;To have and to write from this day forth,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;for times of Inspiration and for times of Writer's Blocks,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;for more reviews, for less,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;in canon and in crack,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;to type and to scribble;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;from this day forward, till bans and death do us part.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-3499164090604933488?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/3499164090604933488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=3499164090604933488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3499164090604933488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3499164090604933488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/sound-nuptial-bells-im-getting-married.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-3273510382684617775</id><published>2008-11-21T18:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T18:28:40.739+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;#1 Where would you go if someone sponsors you an air ticket?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;America. Hands down. I'd take a roadtrip across it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#2 What's your favourite thing to do?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing. *takes Eugene's answer*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#3 Do you think money can buy happiness?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it can buy what you want. If that makes you happy, then by all means, it does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#4 If you were given a chance to receive something, what would it be?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something that could type words so fast that I can just say what I want to be written and it will be written.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#5 Things/people you can't live without?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God. Family. Friends. Inspiration. Fanfiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#6 What are you afraid to lose?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My faith. My family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#7 If you win $1 million dollars, what would you do?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buy a machine that can type what I say aloud. That way, I'll finish my NaNoWriMo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#8 What do you dream of doing in the future?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Run to America and stay in Yosemite.&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#9 List down 3 good points about the person who gave you this survey.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eugene?&lt;br /&gt;Writer. Hell of a good one.&lt;br /&gt;Adamant on Happy Endings.&lt;br /&gt;Critic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#10 What makes you happy?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing and knowing I made someone's day by doing so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#11 What type of person do you hate the most?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The type that doesn't care about personal space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#12 If you have a super power what would it be?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fire. Pyrokinetic. Or...Metal Controller. Like Magneto. I can probably twiddle with my computer to type faster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#13 Would you go for happiness or money?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Money? I believe no human will EVER be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#14 Who do you think is the most important people in your life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#15 If you have a girlfriend, would you die for her?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend? I'm sorry. I haven't confirmed if I'm bisexual yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#16 Who's the last person who hugged you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ashlynna on Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#17 What is the one thing you want to do badly right now?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Write something amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#18 Who are you close to?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#19 Are you courageous enough to tell a person that you like her/him?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope. I never will tell anyone that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;#20 If you could do one thing all over again what would it be?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Look From Olympus. It's crap really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;7 things that scare you:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The deadline for NaNoWriMo.&lt;br /&gt;- Teeth Extraction&lt;br /&gt;- Braces&lt;br /&gt;- Being forced to give up something.&lt;br /&gt;- Thinking so much, I lose all interest in living.&lt;br /&gt;- People questioning things too much. You have to take some things on faith.&lt;br /&gt;- Disneyland closing down. IT WON'T!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-3273510382684617775?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/3273510382684617775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=3273510382684617775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3273510382684617775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3273510382684617775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/1-where-would-you-go-if-someone.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8662096482622837350</id><published>2008-11-20T16:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T16:27:39.661+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have been INSPIRED to write an EMO/PISSY post! So that's what I'll do. Don't ask me why, don't ask me how, I will. It will be whited out. So the WHOLE WORLD can choose if they want to see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus starts the madness&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I can't decide if I hate you. Should I? You spoiled everything, that day. Why couldn't I just NOT come? Why did YOU come? I can bury my head in my hands and scream like I'm doing now. But it's still the same. It still happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I am adamant that nothing happened, there was NO spark, there was NO love, there was NOthing. NOT AN IDIOT THING. I will not stoop so low to grant you that again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I hate you, you know? Just as much as I allow myself to like you as a friend. I can't believe what you did to her. How could you? That's why you'll stay my friend forever. Because I won't let you do that to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;But then again, if I ever do, I give you the permission to drop me immediately. Just so I can curl into myself and destroy my mind with the regret and the self-loathing. Just so I can scream "I told you so" over and over again. So I can hit myself, cut myself, and say loudly, brokenly, that it was all my fault.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;You can smile and laugh. I can smile and laugh. But you probably never saw, that deep inside my eyes, there's something that burns so scarily.  I can't figure out what it is. But even if I ever tell you this, face to face, and even if we survive as a "we" in the unforgiving world, I'll look in your face and see him, and you'd look in mine and see her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;We'll never be happy with anyone. Because the only one that really, truly matters, won't be with us. But I'm okay with that. Solitude's enough for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;It better be enough for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it really. I'll post another...soon. After NaNoWriMo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8662096482622837350?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8662096482622837350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8662096482622837350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8662096482622837350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8662096482622837350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-have-been-inspired-to-write-emopissy.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-261457921071540128</id><published>2008-11-20T09:39:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T09:58:27.645+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;More lyric-changing mayhem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere Only We Know&lt;br /&gt;changed into:&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere Only I Know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I came across, a half-formed plot,&lt;br /&gt;I thought I could actually make it work.&lt;br /&gt;I found the mess, inside my head,&lt;br /&gt;Sat at the comp but nothing came to my aid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh simple plot,&lt;br /&gt;where have you gone?&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting slow but I've got to finish...&lt;br /&gt;So tell me when, you're gonna let me sleep,&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired&lt;br /&gt;and I need somewhere to end...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across, a Mary Sue,&lt;br /&gt;I felt the horror, did I really write that?&lt;br /&gt;I'm so confused, how can I change&lt;br /&gt;how can I rectify this mistake?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Characters,&lt;br /&gt;why can't you see?&lt;br /&gt;I don't live in the world that you do.&lt;br /&gt;So I can't know, what you would do,&lt;br /&gt;if all your memories just flew away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you write a minute why don't I go,&lt;br /&gt;rewrite all this crap and get that 50&lt;br /&gt;This could be the end of all my plotholes,&lt;br /&gt;so why don't I go, get a plot together&lt;br /&gt;get that plot together...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Inspiration,&lt;br /&gt;why can't you see, this young writer really needs your grace?&lt;br /&gt;So tell me when, you're gonna help me get&lt;br /&gt;my plot together for the final bow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you have a minute, can't you help me,&lt;br /&gt;find a way around the writer's block?&lt;br /&gt;This could be the make or break of all this,&lt;br /&gt;so please lend your hand, I'm slowly going...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere only I know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-261457921071540128?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/261457921071540128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=261457921071540128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/261457921071540128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/261457921071540128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/more-lyric-changing-mayhem.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1867269257369887550</id><published>2008-11-19T23:41:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T00:15:45.341+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Prowling around Eugene's blog makes me feel inspired. Hoo boy, what is the world coming to? So I decided to change the lyrics of songs on my playlist: http://view.playlist.com/12766550795 one by one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say it Again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The thing about School is it's always coming at me,&lt;br /&gt;Homework builds up and I am not surprised.&lt;br /&gt;And now there's a voice inside my head,&lt;br /&gt;it's got my wondering,&lt;br /&gt;Why is that? I wish I'd changed school...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Study a little harder&lt;br /&gt;(Just a little)&lt;br /&gt;Get a bit better&lt;br /&gt;(Oh oh oh oh)&lt;br /&gt;Strive for higher...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And say it again for me,&lt;br /&gt;why did I get dumped in Raffles?&lt;br /&gt;Even when it seems that I'm&lt;br /&gt;the only one that's wondering why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And say it again for me,&lt;br /&gt;it's like the whole world can't be bothered,&lt;br /&gt;that I'm dying just to get...&lt;br /&gt;a 4.0.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing about school,&lt;br /&gt;is it knows just how to get me,&lt;br /&gt;take me away,&lt;br /&gt;and stop me from writing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing about me is that I really need to get to&lt;br /&gt;the next page&lt;br /&gt;the next cha-apter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Study a little harder&lt;br /&gt;(Just a little)&lt;br /&gt;Get a bit better&lt;br /&gt;(Oh oh oh oh)&lt;br /&gt;Strive for higher...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And say it again for me,&lt;br /&gt;why did I get dumped in Raffles?&lt;br /&gt;Even when it seems that I'm&lt;br /&gt;the only one that's wondering why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And say it again for me,&lt;br /&gt;it's like the whole world can't be bothered,&lt;br /&gt;that I'm dying just to get...&lt;br /&gt;a 4.0.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it feels like,&lt;br /&gt;it's the first time,&lt;br /&gt;that I've been ever stressed about the&lt;br /&gt;next exams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And never, in my whole life,&lt;br /&gt;have I seen something worse than&lt;br /&gt;a 60 for Chinese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And say it again for me,&lt;br /&gt;why did I get dumped in Raffles?&lt;br /&gt;Even when it seems that I'm&lt;br /&gt;the only one that's wondering why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And say it again for me,&lt;br /&gt;it's like the whole world can't be bothered,&lt;br /&gt;that I'm dying just to get...&lt;br /&gt;a 4.0.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say it again&lt;br /&gt;Say it again&lt;br /&gt;Say it again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Ohhh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say it again&lt;br /&gt; Say it again&lt;br /&gt;Say it again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say it again&lt;br /&gt;Say it again&lt;br /&gt;Say it again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why I'm dying just to get...&lt;br /&gt;that 4.0.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Guitar solo and fade out.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Heh...that was funny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Next one...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Everytime We Touch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still hear the sounds&lt;br /&gt;of the school term days&lt;br /&gt;I still feel the rush for the bus&lt;br /&gt;Forgive me for asking, but I don't know why&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I've to say goodbye...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Cos everytime we cheer&lt;br /&gt; our Raffles cheers,&lt;br /&gt; we nearly scream the crumbling school down.&lt;br /&gt; Can't you feel the sentiments?&lt;br /&gt; I wished that could last,&lt;br /&gt; but the new term starts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Cos everytime there's things we've got to do,&lt;br /&gt;we still find the time to share some lame jokes,&lt;br /&gt;Can't you feel that I'm so down?&lt;br /&gt;I wished this would last,&lt;br /&gt;but the new year starts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our hugs were affection,&lt;br /&gt;Our sarcasm fun,&lt;br /&gt;We've wiped away tears that we cried.&lt;br /&gt;The good and the bad times,&lt;br /&gt;we've been through them all.&lt;br /&gt;You make me rise when I fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Cos everytime we cheer&lt;br /&gt; our Raffles cheers,&lt;br /&gt; we nearly scream the crumbling school down.&lt;br /&gt; Can't you feel the sentiments?&lt;br /&gt; I wished that could last,&lt;br /&gt; but the new term starts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Cos everytime there's things we've got to do,&lt;br /&gt;we still find the time to share some lame jokes,&lt;br /&gt;Can't you feel that I'm so down?&lt;br /&gt;I wished this would last,&lt;br /&gt;but the new year starts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Haha, this one was more sober...but still fun to do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1867269257369887550?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1867269257369887550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1867269257369887550' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1867269257369887550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1867269257369887550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/prowling-around-eugenes-blog-makes-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-5998168890135620255</id><published>2008-11-18T09:02:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T09:59:56.917+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>40 people I know in mostly random order;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Zi Xin&lt;br /&gt;2. Melissa Tham&lt;br /&gt;3. Winnie Ng&lt;br /&gt;4. Huang Huijun&lt;br /&gt;5. Lim Rei&lt;br /&gt;6. Xin Chen Jie (or CJ)&lt;br /&gt;7. Grace Guo&lt;br /&gt;8. Liu Zi Wei&lt;br /&gt;9. Ben Wong&lt;br /&gt;10. Ho Wern&lt;br /&gt;11. Nathaniel Ng&lt;br /&gt;12. Seth (what the hell is his last name?)&lt;br /&gt;13. Kai Yan&lt;br /&gt;14. Eugene Lim&lt;br /&gt;15. Ashlynna Ng&lt;br /&gt;16. Christina Chin (or Cheese)&lt;br /&gt;17. Amanda Hsiung&lt;br /&gt;18. Nadia Lee&lt;br /&gt;19. Arunima Gupta&lt;br /&gt;20. Heng Yeng&lt;br /&gt;21. Michelle Wang&lt;br /&gt;22. Lavu&lt;br /&gt;23. Jonathan Tan&lt;br /&gt;24. Daniel (from Catechism)&lt;br /&gt;25. Sofia Bensily/Jemila Ranjit xD&lt;br /&gt;26. Rachel Greiff (Beta)&lt;br /&gt;27. Gabor Kozar (Beta)&lt;br /&gt;28. Ashley Lim&lt;br /&gt;29. Nicolette Lee&lt;br /&gt;30. Bianka (Judge!)&lt;br /&gt;31. SaI (Judge!)&lt;br /&gt;32. Christabella Irwanto&lt;br /&gt;33. Heidi Gay&lt;br /&gt;34. Colin Gay&lt;br /&gt;35. Melissa (from Catechism)&lt;br /&gt;36. Edna (from Catechism)&lt;br /&gt;37. Mad the Badass (Fanfiction-er)&lt;br /&gt;38. Pen Against Sword (Judge!)&lt;br /&gt;39. La Editor (Judge!)&lt;br /&gt;40. T. Costa/Tasha (Judge!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who is #9 (Ben) to you?&lt;br /&gt;An ego guy who just met his match with Seth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does #12 (Seth) have a hot older brother?&lt;br /&gt;Who IS Seth's older brother?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you make out with #2 (Mel)?&lt;br /&gt;NOOO...I'm not...lesbian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about #13 (Kai Yan)?&lt;br /&gt;Nope. He's gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or #30 (Bianka)?&lt;br /&gt;She's a Judge at GA. I don't know her in person...Anyway, she's female. I'm female. Not lesbian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is #1 (Zi Xin) your best friend?&lt;br /&gt;We'd like to say so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is #3 (Winnie Ng) cute?&lt;br /&gt;Of course. But she's more...cool than cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about #5 (Rei)?&lt;br /&gt;Cute?! No no...I wouldn't say she was CUTE. That's the wrong word. The ABSOLUTE wrong word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or #23 (Jonathan Tan)?&lt;br /&gt;Short, but so NOT cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or #36 (Edna)?&lt;br /&gt;She tries. But no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did you meet #4 (Huijun)?&lt;br /&gt;NYPS, we made a ruckus in P5, high fived and became great friends. In Sec 1, well, you should see us when we start talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And #18 (Nadia)?&lt;br /&gt;RGS. We said hi, and hugged. Cos that's the way we show...friendly affection in RGS xDD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you ever go out with #20 (Heng Yeng)?&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or #28 (Ashley)?&lt;br /&gt;Nah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who is #40 (T. Costa)?&lt;br /&gt;A fellow judge in Genesis Awards. She's judging one of the same categories as me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you hug #8 (Zi Wei) all the time?&lt;br /&gt;Not really. But in RGS, if she's your friend, then you hug her. The way the world goes round in that madhouse. xD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about #15 (Ashlynna)?&lt;br /&gt;Hell yes. DUHH...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or #25 (Sofia)?&lt;br /&gt;Once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or #37 (Mad the Badass)?&lt;br /&gt;Mad? I would if I saw her in person. She ought to be thanked for her awesomeness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you feel sorry for #11 (Nathaniel)?&lt;br /&gt;Naw...As in, there's nothing to be sorry about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever told #14 (Eugene) you loved him/her?&lt;br /&gt;O.o, looking at Seth's answer...I cringe.&lt;br /&gt;Eugene? Love? Dude, NO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would #6 (CJ) and #10(Wern) make a good couple?&lt;br /&gt;Well...it's possible. At least it's Het...But they don't share many things in common.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about #16 (Cheese) and #27 (Gabor)?&lt;br /&gt;He's Hungarian, she's Malaysian. Unless they want to pull off a Romeo and Juliet story, I say no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which # is #5 (Rei) fated to be with?&lt;br /&gt;Haven't a clue really. I mean, the only person she was fated to be with...it didn't turn out so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about #35 (Melissa from Cat)?&lt;br /&gt;Earnest from Catechism. YOU CAN SEE IT! Unless you're emotionally blind. xD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or #19 (Arunima)?&lt;br /&gt;No one really. I can't think of anyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-5998168890135620255?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/5998168890135620255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=5998168890135620255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5998168890135620255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5998168890135620255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/40-people-i-know-in-mostly-random-order.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-6676527716949783932</id><published>2008-11-17T23:07:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T23:26:29.220+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There Are 1 Gaps in Your Knowledge&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/doyouhavegapsinyourknowledgequiz/brain.png" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where you have gaps in your knowledge:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;History&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where you don't have gaps in your knowledge:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Philosophy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Religion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Economics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Literature&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Science&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Art&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/doyouhavegapsinyourknowledgequiz/"&gt;Do You Have Gaps in Your Knowledge?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, me is smart, yo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Chances of Being a Multimillionaire: 92%&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/willyoubeamultimillionairequiz/mm-5.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's almost certain you'll be a multimillionaire. Just keep doing what you're doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are good with money, a creative thinker, and an ethical person. You might be the next Donald Trump!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/willyoubeamultimillionairequiz/"&gt;Will You Be a Multimillionaire?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright! Eugene Lim Zhi Wei, I dare you to do this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Thinking is Abstract and Sequential&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatkindofthinkerareyouquiz/abstractsequential.png" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You like to do research and collect lots of information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more facts you have, the easier it is for you to learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You need to figure things out for yourself and consider all possibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tend to become an expert in the subjects that you study.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's difficult for you to work with people who know less than you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You aren't a very patient teacher, and you don't like convincing people that you're right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofthinkerareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Thinker Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds...elitist. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Personality Cluster is Extraverted Intuition&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatsyourpersonalityclusterquiz/5.gif" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a true wordsmith  and a master of words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are original, spontaneous, and a true inspiration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Highly energetic, you are up for any challenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are entertaining and engaging... both to friends and strangers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourpersonalityclusterquiz/"&gt;What's Your Personality Cluster?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds good, yo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Autumn Test Results&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/theautumnquiz/autumn.png" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a energetic, warm, optimistic person. You approach everything with a lot of enthusiasm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are happiest, you are calm. You appreciate tradition and family. You enjoy feeling cozy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You prefer change to come slowly. You need a long transition period when your life changes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You find love to be the most comforting thing in the world. You feel at peace when you're with your loved ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your ideal day is spent in contemplation. You enjoy a quiet day where you can take time to think and day dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tend to live in the moment. You enjoy whatever is going on, and you don't obsess over the past or future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/theautumnquiz/"&gt;The Autumn Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear, I've done this before!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are From Mercury&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatplanetareyoufromquiz/mercury.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are talkative, clever, and knowledgeable - and it shows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You check in with your friends as often as possible!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're witty, expressive, and aware of everything going on around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You love learning, playing, and taking in all of what life has to offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be careful not to talk your friends' ears off. Temper your need to know everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatplanetareyoufromquiz/"&gt;What Planet Are You From?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's better. I'm a loudmouth. I admit it. Yo, as if you guys didn't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are 90% Grown Up, 10% Kid&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/howemotionallymatureareyouquiz/mature-5.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your emotional maturity is fully developed, and you have an excellent grasp on your emotions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're honest, direct, and compassionate. You don't let a bad mood get the best of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People know that they can turn to you in times of trouble. You are stable and smart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, you are so emotionally mature - you should consider being a therapist!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howemotionallymatureareyouquiz/"&gt;How Emotionally Mature Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therapist? Okay! I'm for anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are A Woman!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/areyouagirlorawomanquiz/woman.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations, you've made it to adulthood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're emotionally mature, responsible, and unlikely to act out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You accept that life is hard - and do your best to keep things upbeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This makes you the perfect girlfriend... or even wife!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/areyouagirlorawomanquiz/"&gt;Are You A Girl Or a Woman?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WIFE?! *shrugs* Whatever yo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are Warrior II&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatyogaposeareyouquiz/warrior2.png" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are confident and brave. Failure is not an option for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You aren't easily intimidated or scared off. You will stand and fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have more endurance than anyone you know. You have a will of steel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When other people are giving up, you're the one just getting started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatyogaposeareyouquiz/"&gt;What Yoga Pose Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warrior? Sure, yo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What This Outfit Says About You&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/theoutfittest/dress-3.png" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a confident person. You don't need a certain outfit to feel good about yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You prefer to stay casual. You rather speak for yourself than have your clothes speak for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are energetic and adventurous. You are up for anything, and you love being surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are often cheerful and optimistic. You approach life with curiosity and an open heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your high end fashion designer match: Chloe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your must have accessory: A funky red bag&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/theoutfittest/"&gt;The Outfit Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red bag? I don't have a red bag! Should I go and get one? wait...might as well spend the time NaNo-ing. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Dosha is Pitta&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatsyourdoshaquiz/pitta.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have a quick mind, a gift for persuasion, and a sharp sense of humor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have both the drive and people skills to be a very successful leader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argumentative and a bit stubborn, you have been known to be a little too set in your ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But while you may be biased toward your own point of view, you are always honest, fair, and ethical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With friends: You are outgoing and open to anyone who might want to talk to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In love: You are picky but passionate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To achieve more balance: Be less judgmental of those around you, and take cool walks in the moonlight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourdoshaquiz/"&gt;What's Your Dosha?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pitta?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Body's Element is Air&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatelementisyourbodyquiz/air.png" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are competitive, assertive, and dominant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; You live to win, and it really makes you angry if you lose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; You are brilliant and competent. No matter what you're doing, you now your stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; People tend to be intimidated by your intelligence. It's hard to measure up to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Your energy tends to be: ebbing and flowing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Your power color is: white&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatelementisyourbodyquiz/"&gt;What Element is Your Body?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;White? Yeah. Sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-6676527716949783932?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/6676527716949783932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=6676527716949783932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6676527716949783932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6676527716949783932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/there-are-1-gaps-in-your-knowledge.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-7905241140939365978</id><published>2008-11-16T19:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T19:49:56.263+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;As inspired by Ash, I write a poem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If we were a fanfiction&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;If we were a fanfiction,&lt;br /&gt;Could you be Cloud,&lt;br /&gt;and me Tifa?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I'd be content with waiting for you to see me,&lt;br /&gt;and finally, as the resolution comes,&lt;br /&gt;you end my waiting with a kiss and thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe we could have a tragedy,&lt;br /&gt;then you'd be Zack,&lt;br /&gt;and I'd be Aerith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'd make do with what little time we had together,&lt;br /&gt;never complaning that as time wears on,&lt;br /&gt;our romance ends with a couple of gunshots and blood everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or if we went for true love without bounds,&lt;br /&gt;maybe you could try as Vincent,&lt;br /&gt;and I for Yuffie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we'd live by principles like,&lt;br /&gt;Opposites Attract,&lt;br /&gt;and Age doesn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or if we had a comedy, and you didn't mind,&lt;br /&gt;you'd be Tseng,&lt;br /&gt;and me, Reno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'd live for the thrill,&lt;br /&gt;and I'd talk, when you're silent,&lt;br /&gt;and know that you're listening, all the time amused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe a heartstopper,&lt;br /&gt;then Will could be you,&lt;br /&gt;and I'd be Lyra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or a fluffy one,&lt;br /&gt;then you'd be Ron,&lt;br /&gt;and I'll take the role as Hermione.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or if it was an arranged marriage,&lt;br /&gt;with deceit and lies as undertones,&lt;br /&gt;Draco and Pansy might do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or if we wanted violence and passion,&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't mind being Sasori&lt;br /&gt;if you'd be Deidara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we could leave our lives to fanfiction writers,&lt;br /&gt;who might kill us off in a heartbeat,&lt;br /&gt;or let us live for the closing act.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we'd have people debating,&lt;br /&gt;picking the tiny incidents,&lt;br /&gt;where we might be a canon pairing after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wouldn't need to care if we weren't fated for each other,&lt;br /&gt;if Sephiroth lived,&lt;br /&gt;or how we'd survive Geostigma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wouldn't need to plan how we'd afford more food&lt;br /&gt;or if we could support children,&lt;br /&gt;the money would just appear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our romance could be swirling adventure,&lt;br /&gt;or quiet appreciation,&lt;br /&gt;or wracked with angst.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our days could pass fast,&lt;br /&gt;in half a chapter,&lt;br /&gt;or stretched out over sixty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing blocks would simply stall our time,&lt;br /&gt;Confiscated computers would just add to the suspense,&lt;br /&gt;and the frantic search for more synonyms for the odd word wouldn't bother us at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything would be planned out,&lt;br /&gt;or maybe not at all,&lt;br /&gt;but we wouldn't need to put in any effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrapped up in worlds of cliches&lt;br /&gt;and sunsets that never end,&lt;br /&gt;and we'd comfort ourselves with the knowledge that,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we'll always have a happy ending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A.N.: Longest thing I've ever written. Fun all the same. If you know all the pairings mentioned, kudos to you, they're my favourites.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-7905241140939365978?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/7905241140939365978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=7905241140939365978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7905241140939365978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7905241140939365978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/as-inspired-by-ash-i-write-poem-if-we.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-575943123280405383</id><published>2008-11-13T21:37:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T22:07:00.409+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>1. Put Music Player on Shuffle.&lt;br /&gt;2. Use Song Titles as answers to the question xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. If someone says, "Is this okay?" You say?&lt;br /&gt;Say it Again - Marie Digby&lt;br /&gt;(typical blur me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. How would you describe yourself?&lt;br /&gt;Everytime We Touch (Slow Version) - Cascada&lt;br /&gt;(By the people I touch? By how it feels when we do?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. What do you like in a guy/girl?&lt;br /&gt;The Best Damn Thing - Avril Lavigne&lt;br /&gt;(they swear? NO! Maybe...I look for the English really.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. How do you feel today?&lt;br /&gt;Innocence - Avril Lavigne&lt;br /&gt;(I feel innocent! Wow.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What is your life's purpose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. What is your motto?&lt;br /&gt;So What - P!nk&lt;br /&gt;(who cares what the world thinks.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. What do your friends think of you?&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere Only We Know - Keane&lt;br /&gt;(we can talk in privacy? we share the memories like burdens and blessings? random philosophical interlude.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. What do you think of your parents?&lt;br /&gt;If Everyone Cared - Nickelback&lt;br /&gt;(if everyone loved and nobody lied...I guess, if every family was as loving as mine was, the world would become heaven.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. What do you think about very often?&lt;br /&gt;All the Things She Said - tATu&lt;br /&gt;(homosexuality? more like...if gay rights should be given. They can't help it. We're just discriminatory.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. What is 2 + 2?&lt;br /&gt;All the Love in the World - The Corrs&lt;br /&gt;(What?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. What do you think of your best friend?&lt;br /&gt;Graduation Song - Vitamin C&lt;br /&gt;(we'll be friends forever...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. What do you think of the person you like?&lt;br /&gt;One Way - Hillsong&lt;br /&gt;(only one person I love, Jesus Christ. He's the Way, the Truth and the Life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. What is your life story?&lt;br /&gt;I Could Sing of Your Love Forever - Sonic Flood&lt;br /&gt;(I could sing of Your love forever. Worshiping God.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. What do you want to be when you grow up?&lt;br /&gt;Mighty to Save - Don Moen&lt;br /&gt;(?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. What do you think of when you see the person you like?&lt;br /&gt;When She Loved Me - Sarah McLachlen&lt;br /&gt;(that it's all going to end if the person moves on. which is inevitable.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. What will you dance to at your wedding?&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday - Leona Lewis&lt;br /&gt;(bittersweet goodness. things will end, let the memories remember for us.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. What will they play at your funeral?&lt;br /&gt;Because of You - Kelly Clarkson&lt;br /&gt;(I wrongly affected someone?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. What is your hobby/interest?&lt;br /&gt;Thunder - Boys like Girls&lt;br /&gt;(listening to the rain...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. What is your biggest fear?&lt;br /&gt;Untitled - Simple Plan&lt;br /&gt;(not having an identity? suicide?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. What is your biggest secret?&lt;br /&gt;Shadow of the Day - Linkin Park&lt;br /&gt;(I want to leave this place...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. What do you think of your friends?&lt;br /&gt;The Reason - Hoobastank&lt;br /&gt;(the reason is you...I live for them? cool)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-575943123280405383?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/575943123280405383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=575943123280405383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/575943123280405383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/575943123280405383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/1.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-7953609329408699613</id><published>2008-11-13T15:23:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T15:27:07.996+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Ultimate Color Test&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/theultimatecolortest/color.png" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are at peace, you are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Giving and unselfish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are moved to act, you are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unorthodox and idealistic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are inspired, you are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Creative and productive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When your life is perfectly balanced, you are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totally in the moment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your life's purpose is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To change the world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/theultimatecolortest/"&gt;The Ultimate Color Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh...huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Hair Should Be Orange&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatsyourfunkyinnerhaircolorquiz/orange.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Expressive, deep, and one of a kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You pull off "weird" well - hardly anyone notices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourfunkyinnerhaircolorquiz/"&gt;What's Your Funky Inner Hair Color?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cool yo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Theme Song is Beautiful Day by U2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatsyourthemesongquiz/beautiful-day.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sky falls, you feel like&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a beautiful day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it get away"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see the beauty in life, especially in ordinary everyday moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you're feeling down, even that seems a little beautiful too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourthemesongquiz/"&gt;What's Your Theme Song?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's U2?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-7953609329408699613?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/7953609329408699613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=7953609329408699613' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7953609329408699613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7953609329408699613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/ultimate-color-test-when-you-are-at.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-7969781194559936920</id><published>2008-11-13T15:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T15:22:44.045+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The Umpteenth Random Personality Quiz Which Is Still Very Enjoyable:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Last Person/People you hung out with?&lt;br /&gt;The "Akatsuki". Minus some people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;where's question 2?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Last Person/People you went to the movies with?&lt;br /&gt;See above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Last Person/People you went to the mall with?&lt;br /&gt;See above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Last person that made you laughed?&lt;br /&gt;Eugene's forgetfulness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Last Person you cried about?&lt;br /&gt;About...*shrugs* I haven't cried in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Last Person you texted?&lt;br /&gt;Eugene. To get Seth's number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Last Person you commented?&lt;br /&gt;Staci. A Fanfiction Writer. in a review.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Last Person you hugged?&lt;br /&gt;Melissa Tham.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A N S W E R. T R U T H F U L L Y&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Do you like anyone?&lt;br /&gt;Nope. I'm proud of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Sun or moon?&lt;br /&gt;Moon, yo. Like, duh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Winter or fall?&lt;br /&gt;Fall. Hands down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Left or right?&lt;br /&gt;Right. But the handwriting is still terrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.10 acquaintances or 2 best friends?&lt;br /&gt;2 best friends. plus plus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Sunny or rainy?&lt;br /&gt;Rainy. Inspires more feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Vanilla ice cream or chocolate ice cream?&lt;br /&gt;Until recently, it was chocolate. But now it's vanilla all the way yo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A B O U T. Y O U&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What time is it now?&lt;br /&gt;3.24 pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. What is your first name?&lt;br /&gt;Anne/Moira&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Where do you want to live?&lt;br /&gt;America yo. Duh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. How many kids do you want?&lt;br /&gt;2 or 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What will you name them?&lt;br /&gt;we'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. When do you want to get married?&lt;br /&gt;shrug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Have you ever eaten spam?&lt;br /&gt;nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Favourite ice cream?&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bean Soya Bean Ice Cream. Low calorie count yo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. How many kinds of cereal are in your cabinet?&lt;br /&gt;Yummy granola something oh something. nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Do you cook?&lt;br /&gt;*cough*no*cough*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Current mood?&lt;br /&gt;stressed out over NaNoWriMo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.I N. T H E. L A S T. 4 8. H O U R S. H A V E. Y O U&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Kissed someone?&lt;br /&gt;Mum counts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Prayed?&lt;br /&gt;Yup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Been hugged?&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Felt stupid?&lt;br /&gt;Always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Missed someone?&lt;br /&gt;Of course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Danced crazy?&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Cried?&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Lied?&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.RA N D O M. Q U E S T I O N S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Have you ever been searched by the cops?&lt;br /&gt;Yep. At every checkpoint possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Have a dog?&lt;br /&gt;nope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. When was the last time you went sleding?&lt;br /&gt;Uhh...3 years back. Going again in December. But I'll be skiing. Not sledding. Me is a pro skier!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone?&lt;br /&gt;Not in that way. I'm more towards alone now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Do you believe in ghosts?&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-7969781194559936920?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/7969781194559936920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=7969781194559936920' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7969781194559936920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7969781194559936920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/umpteenth-random-personality-quiz-which.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-2901678417458366062</id><published>2008-11-09T21:18:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T21:28:59.184+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(70, 62, 63);font-family:tahoma;font-size:85%;"  &gt;nstructions:&lt;br /&gt;1. Do the "Letter MEME".&lt;br /&gt;2. Tag no less than 5 other people.&lt;br /&gt;3. Then copy the "How-to" Letter Meme, and finish your Journal entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Template:&lt;br /&gt;Dear (the last person who text messaged you):&lt;br /&gt;I don't really know how to tell you this, but (1). I think I realized it (2) (3) and I saw you (4) (5). I'm sure you're (6) enough to understand (7). I'm returning (8) to you, but I'll keep (9) as a memory. You should also know that I (10) (11).&lt;br /&gt;(12),&lt;br /&gt;-Your name-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What's the color of your shirt?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Blue - Our romance is over&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red - Our affair is over&lt;br /&gt;White - I'll join the monastery&lt;br /&gt;Black - I dislike you&lt;br /&gt;Green - Our horoscope doesn't match&lt;br /&gt;Grey - You're a pervert&lt;br /&gt;Yellow - I'm selling myself&lt;br /&gt;Pink - Your nostrils are insulting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Brown - The mafia wants you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No shirt - You're a loser&lt;br /&gt;Other - I'm in love with your sister&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Which is your birth month?&lt;br /&gt;January - That night&lt;br /&gt;February - Last year&lt;br /&gt;March - When your dwarf bit me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;April - When I tripped on sesame seeds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May - First of May&lt;br /&gt;June - When you put cuffs on me&lt;br /&gt;July - When I threw up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;August - When I saw the shrunken head&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September - When we skinny dipped&lt;br /&gt;October - When I quoted Santa&lt;br /&gt;November - When your dog ran amok&lt;br /&gt;December - When I changed tennis shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Which food do you prefer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tacos - In your apartment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Pizza - In your camping ca&lt;img style="width: 31px; height: 17px;" class="gl_bold" alt="Bold" src="http://www.starry-reverie.blogspot.com/img/blank.gif" border="0" /&gt;r&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pasta - Outside of Chicago&lt;br /&gt;Hamburgers - Under the bus&lt;br /&gt;Salad - As you ate enchilada&lt;br /&gt;Chicken - In your closet&lt;br /&gt;Kabob - With Paris Hilton&lt;br /&gt;Fish - In women's clothing&lt;br /&gt;Sandwiches - At the Hare Krishna graduation&lt;br /&gt;Lasagna - At the mental hospital&lt;br /&gt;Hot dog - Under a state of trance&lt;br /&gt;None of the above - With George Bush and his wife&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. What's the color of your socks?&lt;br /&gt;Yellow - Hit on&lt;br /&gt;Red - Insult&lt;br /&gt;Black - Ignore&lt;br /&gt;Blue - Knock out&lt;br /&gt;Purple - Pour syrup on&lt;br /&gt;White - Carve your initials into&lt;br /&gt;Grey - Pull the clothes off&lt;br /&gt;Brown - Put leeches on&lt;br /&gt;Orange - Castrate&lt;br /&gt;Pink - Pull the toupee off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Barefoot - Sit on&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other - Drive out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What's the color of your underwear?&lt;br /&gt;Black - My best friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;White - My father&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grey - Bill Clinton&lt;br /&gt;Brown - My fart balloon&lt;br /&gt;Purple - My mustard soufflé&lt;br /&gt;Red - Donald Duck&lt;br /&gt;Blue - My avocado plant&lt;br /&gt;Yellow - My penpal in Ghana&lt;br /&gt;Orange - My Kid Rock-collection&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pink - Manchester United's goalkeeper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None - My John F. Kennedy statue&lt;br /&gt;Other - The crazy monk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. What do you prefer to watch on TV?&lt;br /&gt;Scrubs - Man&lt;br /&gt;O.C. - Emotional&lt;br /&gt;One Tree Hill - Open&lt;br /&gt;Heroes - Frostbitten&lt;br /&gt;Lost - HighHouse - Scarred&lt;br /&gt;Simpsons - Cowardly&lt;br /&gt;The news - MongolicIdol - Masochistic&lt;br /&gt;Family Guy - Senile&lt;br /&gt;Top Model - Middle-class&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;None of the above - Ashamed&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Your mood right now?&lt;br /&gt;Happy - How awful I've felt&lt;br /&gt;Sad - How boring you are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Bored - That Santa doesn't exist&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angry - That your pimples are at the last stage&lt;br /&gt;Depressed - That we're cousins&lt;br /&gt;Excited - That there is no solution to this.&lt;br /&gt;Nervous - The middle-east&lt;br /&gt;Worried - That your Honda sucks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apathetic - That I did a sex-change&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ashamed - That I'm allergic to your hamster&lt;br /&gt;Cuddly - That I get turned on by garbage men&lt;br /&gt;Overjoyous - That I'm open&lt;br /&gt;Other - That Extreme Home Makeover sucks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. What's the color of your walls in your bedroom?&lt;br /&gt;White - Your ring&lt;br /&gt;Yellow - Your love letters&lt;br /&gt;Red - Your Darth Vader-poster&lt;br /&gt;Black - Your tame stone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Blue - The couch cushions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Green - The pictures from LA&lt;br /&gt;Orange - Your false teeth&lt;br /&gt;Brown - Your contact book&lt;br /&gt;Grey - Our matching snoopy-bibs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Purple - Your old lottery coupons&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pink - The cut toenails&lt;br /&gt;Other - Your memories from the military service&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. The first letter of your first name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A/B - Your photo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C/D - The oil stocks&lt;br /&gt;E/F - Your neighbour Martin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;G/H - My virginity&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I/J - The results of your blood-sample&lt;br /&gt;K/L - Your left ear&lt;br /&gt;M/N - Your suicide note&lt;br /&gt;O/P - My common sense&lt;br /&gt;Q/R - Your mom&lt;br /&gt;S/T - Your collection of butterflies&lt;br /&gt;U/V - Your criminal record&lt;br /&gt;W/X - David's tricot outfits&lt;br /&gt;Y/Z - Your grades from college&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. The last letter in your last name?&lt;br /&gt;A/B - Always will remember&lt;br /&gt;C/D - Never will forget&lt;br /&gt;E/F - Always wanted to break&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;G/H - Never openly mocked&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I/J - Always have felt dirty before&lt;br /&gt;K/L - Will tell the authorities about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;M/N - Told in my confession today about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O/P - Was interviewed by the Times about&lt;br /&gt;Q/R - Told my psychiatrist about&lt;br /&gt;S/T - Get sick when I think of&lt;br /&gt;U/V - Always will try to forget&lt;br /&gt;W/X - Am better off without&lt;br /&gt;Y/Z - Never liked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. What do you prefer to drink?&lt;br /&gt;Water- Our friendship&lt;br /&gt;Beer - Senility&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Soft drink - A new life as a clone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soda - The incarnation as an eskimo&lt;br /&gt;Milk - The apartment building&lt;br /&gt;Wine - Cocaine abuse&lt;br /&gt;Cider - A passionate interest for mice&lt;br /&gt;Juice - Oprah Winfrey imitations&lt;br /&gt;Mineral water - Embarrassing rash&lt;br /&gt;Hot chocolate - Eggplant-fetishism&lt;br /&gt;Whisky - To ruin the second world war&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Other - To hate the Boston Celtics&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. To which country would you prefer to go on a vacation?&lt;br /&gt;Thailand - Warm regards&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;USA - Best regards&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;England - Good luck on your short-term leave from jail&lt;br /&gt;Spain - Go and drown yourself&lt;br /&gt;China - Disgusting regards&lt;br /&gt;Germany - With ease&lt;br /&gt;Japan - Go burn&lt;br /&gt;Greece - Your everlasting enemy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Australia - Greetings to your frog Leonard&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Egypt - Fk off now&lt;br /&gt;France - In pain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;So my letter to Amanda is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Dear &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Amanda,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(70, 62, 63);font-family:tahoma;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really know how to tell you this, but &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the Mafia wants you&lt;/span&gt;. I think I realized it &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when I tripped over sesame seeds&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;in your apartment&lt;/span&gt; and I saw you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sit on&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Manchester United's Goalkeeper&lt;/span&gt;. I'm sure you're &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ashamed&lt;/span&gt; enough to understand &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that I did a sex-change&lt;/span&gt;. I'm returning &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the couch cushions&lt;/span&gt; to you, but I'll keep &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;your photo&lt;/span&gt; as a memory. You should also know that I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;told in my confession today about a new life as a clone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Best Regards&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OH man! SCREWED!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to do this, just kope it.&lt;br /&gt;Anne out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-2901678417458366062?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/2901678417458366062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=2901678417458366062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2901678417458366062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2901678417458366062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/nstructions-1.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1756699030673765580</id><published>2008-11-08T11:21:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T11:50:41.541+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;SCHOOL LIFE CONFESSIONS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x]Talked back to a teacher &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heh...I mean...she was being unreasonable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] Been kicked out of class &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Talking too much, for like 5 minutes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Worn pyjamas to school&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Had your tooth fall out at school&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Gotten lost in your school&lt;br /&gt;[x] Broken the dress code in school&lt;br /&gt;[x] Completely failed a test &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Literature Quiz that was voided.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] Left class without asking&lt;br /&gt;[x] Missed a whole week of school&lt;br /&gt;[x] Thrown up in school&lt;br /&gt;[x] Been beat up at school&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HOME LIFE CONFESSIONS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Argue with your parents a lot&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Argue with your brother(s)&lt;br /&gt;[x] Argue with your sister(s)&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Have your own room&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Do your own laundry&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Cook dinner once in a while&lt;br /&gt;[x] Are loud and obnoxious at home&lt;br /&gt;[x]Wears pyjamas when at home&lt;br /&gt;[x] You sleep in very long&lt;br /&gt;[  ] All you do is watch television&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Your parents are divorced&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Your family makes you cry alot&lt;br /&gt;[  ] One or both of your grandparents live with you&lt;br /&gt;[  ] You cant stand being with your parents&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FRIEND CONFESSIONS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x]You currently dislike one or more of your friends&lt;br /&gt;[x] You are jealous of one or more of your friends&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have known a friend your whole life&lt;br /&gt;[ ] Your friends are all taller than you&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have been ditched by a "friend"&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have memorized a friend's phone number&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have lost/forgotten a friends phone number&lt;br /&gt;[  ] You have been to all of your friends houses&lt;br /&gt;[x] You love most all of your friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HABIT CONFESSIONS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You bite your nails&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have an odd obsession with knives&lt;br /&gt;[  ] You cannot sleep with the door closed&lt;br /&gt;[x] You cannot sleep with the door open&lt;br /&gt;[x] There is at least one sound you cannot stand&lt;br /&gt;[x] You write stories about mad cannibalistic serial killers &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heh...dear Sephy counts right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You are good at telling lies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LOVE CONFESSIONS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You currently like someone&lt;br /&gt;[  ] You want to kill one of your exes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ex? I don't have one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You can stay committed for an unusually long time&lt;br /&gt;[  ] You get bored of your crush/bf/gf easily&lt;br /&gt;[  ] A crush/bf/gf has called you a bitch before&lt;br /&gt;[  ] A crush/bf/gf has called you self centered before&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;PERSONAL OPINION CONFESSIONS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[X] You hate George Bush &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Is there an option of  HUMONGOUS cross?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x]Abortion is horrible and should be illegal&lt;br /&gt;[x] Gay marriage is fine to you&lt;br /&gt;[x] Boys make better friends than girls do&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[  ] The beach is an excellent place for a date&lt;br /&gt;[X] Pink is an ugly color &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Make that a second one that needs a HUMONGOUS cross.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Needles aren’t so horrible&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Human flesh tastes like fine aged veal&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have plenty of secrets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HAVE YOU EVER CONFESSIONS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] Fallen down the stairs&lt;br /&gt;[x] Someone has tied your shoelaces together&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Had a nail fall off&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Captured, Manipulated, or Destroyed a soul by Ars Falcis&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Had surgery&lt;br /&gt;[x] Slapped someone across the face&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Killed someone&lt;br /&gt;[  ] Someone has called you a tease&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have been to Europe&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have worn something inside out for a whole day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE SELF&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[01] Name: Anne/Moira&lt;br /&gt;[02] Nickname: Uchiha Itachi, MR, AnneAnne *seethes*&lt;br /&gt;[03] Married: No. Thank God.&lt;br /&gt;[04] Zodiac Sign: Pig&lt;br /&gt;[05] Gender: Girl, but the test says I'm mostly Guy.&lt;br /&gt;[06] Age: 13&lt;br /&gt;[07] High School: RGS&lt;br /&gt;[08] Senior high school: not...yet&lt;br /&gt;[09] Height: 161cm *gasps at her shortness*&lt;br /&gt;[10] Weight: 43 kg *gasps at her fatness*&lt;br /&gt;[11] Do you like yourself: Nope&lt;br /&gt;[12] Piercings: Ears?&lt;br /&gt;[13] Right or left: Right&lt;br /&gt;[14] Are you a freak: Of Nature? Yes.&lt;br /&gt;[15] Hair: Brown&lt;br /&gt;[16] Skin: Tanned, but mostly darkened beige.&lt;br /&gt;[17] Allergic: Nothing. Except some strange orange medication.&lt;br /&gt;[18] What are you doing now: Typing out some chapters.&lt;br /&gt;[19] What will you do 1 hour later: Dance&lt;br /&gt;[20] What will you do 10 years later: Hopefully, write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE FAMILY&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[21] Live with mother/father/parents: Parents&lt;br /&gt;[22] Siblings (included you): 2 (older sis)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE LOVE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[26] You found your another half: *Reads Seth's answer, narrows eyes at the gay-ness of it* No, I haven't yet.&lt;br /&gt;[27] If yes, who is he/she: N/A&lt;br /&gt;[28] If no, who you want he/she to be: Good English. I can't stand anyone who doesn't.&lt;br /&gt;[29] Time(s) you in relationship: ?&lt;br /&gt;[30] Ever woo boy/girl(0-100000): No. If there's mutual respect, liking, love (?), there shouldn't be any need for persuasion.&lt;br /&gt;[31] Anyone woo you before(0-100000): Nah.&lt;br /&gt;[32] Did anything wrong to your other half: N/A&lt;br /&gt;[33] What was/were the wrong you had done: N/A&lt;br /&gt;[34] Ever argue with your other half: N/A&lt;br /&gt;[35] You with your other half since: N/A&lt;br /&gt;[36] Are you straight/hom: Straight, but there's some dispute on whether I'm bi. I might be.&lt;br /&gt;[37] Reasons you love your other half: N/A&lt;br /&gt;[38] You and your other half in which stage: N/A&lt;br /&gt;[39] You woo he/she or he/she woo: N/A&lt;br /&gt;[44] The enemy you hate the most (1 only) : A certain girl I haven't said a word more than necessary to in 111. You know who you are.&lt;br /&gt;[45] Your most beautiful gal friend: Beautiful? Hmm...Nicolette. I'm a strong supporter that she's pretty.&lt;br /&gt;[46] Your most handsome guy friend: Uhh...I can hear Seth screaming "WERN'S SO TOTALLY HOT!" now, but I choose to disregard that comment. None of them look especially good.&lt;br /&gt;[47] The kind of girl you dislike the most: People who blatantly read my diary.&lt;br /&gt;[48] The kind of boy you dislike the most: The ones who are obsessed with getting a girl.&lt;br /&gt;[49] You fall in love with your close friend before: Hmm? No.&lt;br /&gt;[50] Your best friend is your ex-lover: Nah.&lt;br /&gt;[51] If your friend backstabbing you: I'd never speak to them again. I wouldn't give them the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;satisfaction&lt;/span&gt; of being killed by me. They won't be worth the jail term.&lt;br /&gt;[52] If your friend betray you: Same as above.&lt;br /&gt;[53] If your friend woo your lover: Heck.&lt;br /&gt;[54] If your friend fall in love with you: I'd be flattered, but then again, if it was a girl...there are some doubts.&lt;br /&gt;[55] If you fall in love with your best friend: I'd wait till the feelings dissipate before talking to them again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE STUDIES&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[56] Are you a good student: Nah.&lt;br /&gt;[57] You always done your homeworks/assignments: Yeah. Nothing better to do in the term time.&lt;br /&gt;[58] The teacher/tutor you love the most: Mrs Chan, hands down.&lt;br /&gt;[59] Always late to school/college: Nope.&lt;br /&gt;[61] You love your seniors: They're cool.&lt;br /&gt;[62] Senior who you love the most: Hm...*shrugs* Nurul?&lt;br /&gt;[63] Your classmates good/bad: Kinda weird and clique-y.&lt;br /&gt;[64] Excellent result classmate: Deepa. ALL HAIL!&lt;br /&gt;[65] Laziest classmate: Me and Winnie are happy to slack xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE PEOPLE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[66] Smart people: Deepa, Eugene&lt;br /&gt;[67] Stupid people: Me!&lt;br /&gt;[68] Good looking people: *looks at Seth's answer. Freaks out at my name being there* I guess...if you are friends with someone, they look good in your eyes.&lt;br /&gt;[69] Ugly people: Some...people...I no longer talk to.&lt;br /&gt;[70] Funny people: The power of CJ, Grace and Zi Wei together.&lt;br /&gt;[71] Cute people: DESIREE!! *freakily the same answer as Seth*&lt;br /&gt;[72] Bad people: Bad? Bush?&lt;br /&gt;[73] Honest people: If you mean frank, I think my mother is.&lt;br /&gt;[74] Acting people: Ashlynna! OM-ers unite!&lt;br /&gt;[75] What kind of person are you?: Outrageous, cynical and sarcastic type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE PREFER&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[76] Lip or eyes: Eyes&lt;br /&gt;[77] Hugs or kisses: Hugs&lt;br /&gt;[78] Shorter or taller: Shorter *makes me feel superior*&lt;br /&gt;[79] Hesitant or spontaneous: Spontaneous&lt;br /&gt;[80] Nice stomach or nice arms: Arms&lt;br /&gt;[81] Listener or talker: Listener&lt;br /&gt;[82] Romantic or rich: Romantic&lt;br /&gt;[83] Good husband or good father: Hmm...Father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE FUTURE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[84] Age to get marry: 21 or never&lt;br /&gt;[85] Numbers of kid(s): 2 or 3? I hate having an only child, they'll get lonely yo&lt;br /&gt;[86] Career: Writer, Journalist.&lt;br /&gt;[87] Salary: Nice amount that keeps me alive, but not enough to make me snooty.&lt;br /&gt;[88] Retirement age: Never. Work keeps you alive and on your toes.&lt;br /&gt;[89] Properties value: Hmm...I've always wanted to live in Queen Astrid Park, but I'm happy with where I am now. My house so the RULES.&lt;br /&gt;[90] Wishes: Enough happiness to keep me smiling, but enough sadness to keep me looking for happiness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1756699030673765580?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1756699030673765580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1756699030673765580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1756699030673765580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1756699030673765580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/school-life-confessions-xtalked-back-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-7857687441622910059</id><published>2008-11-07T23:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T23:34:29.106+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are Electronic Music&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatkindofmusicareyouquiz/electronic.png" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are energetic and expressive. You love feeling alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You never get sick of your favorite things - they're what makes life special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't take tradition or conventions too seriously. You live for the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You enjoy remixes and re-interpretations of things. Life is about making improvements.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofmusicareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Music Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Whooo!!! Hear that? I'm all about IMPROVEMENTS! Sounds right to me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne/Moira/Maple&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-7857687441622910059?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/7857687441622910059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=7857687441622910059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7857687441622910059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7857687441622910059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/you-are-electronic-music-you-are.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-6831038967194600572</id><published>2008-11-07T19:50:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T20:03:50.373+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;As tagged by Tobi. The &lt;/span&gt;coughgaygcough&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; wonderful Seth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten Sounds You Hear On A Daily Basis&lt;br /&gt;10. Breathing&lt;br /&gt;9. Cars&lt;br /&gt;8. Banging&lt;br /&gt;7. Innocence by Avril Lavigne&lt;br /&gt;6. Voices in my Head&lt;br /&gt;5. My Voice&lt;br /&gt;4. Dad's Voice&lt;br /&gt;3. Mum's Voice&lt;br /&gt;2. Sis' Voice&lt;br /&gt;1. MSN, that little "ding" everytime someone replies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nine Animals You Like, But Wouldn't Want As Pets&lt;br /&gt;9. Lynx&lt;br /&gt;8. Lion&lt;br /&gt;7. Cheetah&lt;br /&gt;6. Cactuar (dunno what this is, go look it up)&lt;br /&gt;5. Ifrit (same as 5)&lt;br /&gt;4. Puma&lt;br /&gt;3. White Tiger&lt;br /&gt;2. Leopard&lt;br /&gt;1. Greyhound&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eight Bands You Discovered in 2008 (discovered as in started listening in my terms)&lt;br /&gt;8. Busted!&lt;br /&gt;7. Cascada&lt;br /&gt;6. Coldplay&lt;br /&gt;5. Black Eyed Peas&lt;br /&gt;4. Simple Plan&lt;br /&gt;3. Linkin Park&lt;br /&gt;2. McFly&lt;br /&gt;1. Hoobastank&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven Things Sitting On Your Kitchen Counter&lt;br /&gt;7. Cups&lt;br /&gt;6. Microwave&lt;br /&gt;5. Drying Rack&lt;br /&gt;4. Stove&lt;br /&gt;3. Turbo Broiler&lt;br /&gt;2. Cutlery&lt;br /&gt;1. Milo Tin xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six Colours You're Wearing (includes accessories)&lt;br /&gt;6. Blue&lt;br /&gt;5. Black&lt;br /&gt;4. Red&lt;br /&gt;3. Yellow&lt;br /&gt;2. White&lt;br /&gt;1. Orange&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five Things Written This Month On Your Calendar&lt;br /&gt;5. Bible Night (Tomorrow!)&lt;br /&gt;4. Buckle Camp (26th November)&lt;br /&gt;3. Dance Class: Hip Hop (Tomorrow's the last class)&lt;br /&gt;2. Next Term of Hip Hop (14 November)&lt;br /&gt;1. Camp Re:Act (Over)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four Possible Reasons You'd Be In A Hospital&lt;br /&gt;4. Car Crash&lt;br /&gt;3. Palin nukes everyone. But Hospitals would all be gone by then.&lt;br /&gt;2. I fake a broken leg&lt;br /&gt;1. Visiting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three Languages You'd Like To Learn&lt;br /&gt;3. Sign Language&lt;br /&gt;2. Italian&lt;br /&gt;1. Dance. It's a language, I swear!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two Board Games You Played Last&lt;br /&gt;2. Monopoly&lt;br /&gt;1. Cluedo (Argh! Got owned again by my sis!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Reason To Keep On Going Even When You Want To Give Up&lt;br /&gt;1. Turks don't give up, so neither should I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tag 10 people&lt;br /&gt;1. Winnie!&lt;br /&gt;2. Nadia&lt;br /&gt;3. Mich&lt;br /&gt;4. Celine...the Camp React one. Once you've added me on MSN.&lt;br /&gt;5. Tamsin Tripod AKA. The Fantastic JELLY AKA Angelica.&lt;br /&gt;6/7/8/9/10. Kope if you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne signs out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-6831038967194600572?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/6831038967194600572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=6831038967194600572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6831038967194600572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/6831038967194600572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/as-tagged-by-tobi.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-2556964516888566977</id><published>2008-11-07T19:42:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T19:42:44.823+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The Teenager Test (comments in italics)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x]Held hands with someone Maybe...Oh yeah *kopes winneh's answer* MY MUM!&lt;br /&gt;[x]Lost someone In a mall?&lt;br /&gt;[x]Never got a chance to tell someone something important Yes! I missed the chance to tell my dearest nursery/kindergarten best friend just how much I platonically loved her.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Cried your heart out When things aren't right, this is the girls' reaction.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Danced made to. I mean, in school. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;Total: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ ]Rejected someone&lt;br /&gt;[x]Heard a rumour about yourself Blame those Baboonz, whether they mean it or not, they're always talking too loud.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Hurt someone emotionally Yes. Of course. And for some, I'm not sorry.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Hurt someone physically Forever. VIOLENCE is my middle name.&lt;br /&gt;Total: 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x]Got involved in a sport Um, like, duhh? Make that...5 sports?&lt;br /&gt;[x]Got called a dork Yep. Totally.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Fell in love If childish crushes are called that...?&lt;br /&gt;[x]Went to a funeral 2. But I didn't really know my great-grandfather and my grandmother's sister...&lt;br /&gt;[x]Know someone who has tried to commit suicide Depends...But I have seen someone cut themselves. Scary.&lt;br /&gt;Total: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x]Wrote a love note For someone else?&lt;br /&gt;[x]Went through a phase His Dark Materials, then some time when I totally loved Genesis Rhapsodos, then Tseng, then Reno...then...hmm...Itachi?&lt;br /&gt;[ ]Got ditched Nope xD Everyone loves me too much to ditch me.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Know someone really stupid or annoying Hell yeah.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Got in a fist fight with a family member Sister and me. Go head to head.&lt;br /&gt;Total: 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x]Drank Champagne. Cough and then sudsided.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Made a mistake Uhh...like...DUH!&lt;br /&gt;[x]Thought you found the one Thought, yes. Have, no.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Found out a bf/gf cheated on you If BF stands for Best Friend, yes.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Lied to your parents Ahem...coughyescough.&lt;br /&gt;Total: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x]Been lied to. Of course not...*sarcasm reigns*&lt;br /&gt;[x]Felt like the happiest person in the world OM! OMG I GOT IN! Oh yeah, and when The Last 100 Days got 23 reviews! YEAH!&lt;br /&gt;[x]Felt like dying Yeah...well...it comes and goes. I'm still alive right?&lt;br /&gt;[x]Had a crush Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;Total: 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x]Prayed Yes. Lots of times.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Texted in class Uhhh...ahem...once.&lt;br /&gt;[ ]Smoked a cigarette&lt;br /&gt;[x]Had more than one crush at a time YES! I crushed...three empty packets of packet drink and felt like the coolest person in the world yo.&lt;br /&gt;[x]Disliked someone Let me count...*runs out of fingers, toes and stars*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Total: 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Total in all: 28&lt;br /&gt;Multiply by 3: I'm a 84% teenager.&lt;br /&gt;Ohkay...This should be right...not quite the total teen, but close enough. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANNE/MOIRA/MAPLE sign off for a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Backkkkk....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since this is my...tumtumtumtum...111th post, I will dedicate it to the class that I've been in for the whole year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the whole class:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were screwed, we were weird, we were procrastinators, but no one said we can't have fun while at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we erupted into schisms all over the place, we had fun. And maybe even some after that. I may not have liked you all...but at least, I think I loved more than half. This is to all of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honourable Mentions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WINNIE: Thankew so much my dear. We had fun, didn't we? And as for being in the same OM team. WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MICH: Yay! Go you pervertedstrangeweirdnicehappysillyrandom person! You sing WELL! sorry...random -___- |||&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HJ: Talking in front of the teacher, NO PROBLEM! Having fun while APPEARING like we're doing work, NO PROBLEM! You work so hard...but it's not like you didn't influence me!...somewhat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NAOMI: Our friendship seriously picked up during the mad rush for Drama Night emcee-ing! We rule as emcees! Anyways, thanks for typing out the whole script and then letting me trample through and turn it all around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NADIA: You brought back my stuff from under my table! LUVYA! And for those PSL surveys, HECK! I don't need them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all. *hugs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne/Moira/Maple sign out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-2556964516888566977?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/2556964516888566977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=2556964516888566977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2556964516888566977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2556964516888566977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/teenager-test-comments-in-italics-xheld_07.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-3779165062904712726</id><published>2008-11-05T22:13:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T23:20:59.430+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Strangely Numb&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I don't know why, or when, or how, or...anyways, I know it's happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, Literature...no longer means anything to me. I no longer feel anything in poetry. Only in prose, and very little of that too. I haven't written a good fic since I don't know when. Anyway, on with the subject of CAMP REACT.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My team is, was and will be screwed. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt; - Stupid idiot of the lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bianche&lt;/span&gt; - YAY! RG GIRLS UNITE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Eddy&lt;/span&gt; - There's talk that he's gay...we'll see. He apparently knows Min Chih. Hmm... HCI guys...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Celine&lt;/span&gt; - Dancer/Really funny NYGH girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Angelica&lt;/span&gt; - Nice name hmm? Anyways, MGS girl whose sister is the camp Co'ord. Reminds me of my sis this year in Buckle...Sigh...Poor girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Grace (Ng)&lt;/span&gt; - MGS girl. She's got...viral...somethingohsomething. Something about having a fever I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Yu Xin/Xian&lt;/span&gt; - There's some dispute about her name. She's the real worker in our group. Too bad she came late today, allowing us to digress hopelessly into gossiping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day was basically talks and...MISS SERGEANT! Yay! We love her! We all screamed madly when we realised she was coming. She taught us about MIME. which is really cool, but only when taught by her. She's marvelous at this acting stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second day...Oh HO. The second day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all we had something called, Go to a Scenic Place and Write Some Poetry. AKA Force some inspiration and crap out SOMETHING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not working for me. Sometime during that, I realised I don't feel the same for poetry anymore. It used to be expression, now it's...childish fancy? Cynicism seems to have caught up with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, then then then, we had a MAJOR amazing race round the island of sunny/rainy singapore! Brilliant! =note sarcasm=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we get a clue that goes like "_____ I am" after a quote from Green Eggs and Ham. DUHH! SAM! singapore arts museum?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exactly. At the place (after some time on a bus trying not to go to sleep), we did 4 things for each module.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Drama&lt;/span&gt;: This was pure silliness on our part. We go into a room that's just FILLED with graffiti. Till it's spilling out from the room. And there are some other paintings of garish/blinding blues and pinks and oranges and yellows. Ouch my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we picked a single focal point and had to base a skit on it. This is what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st 3 minutes: SILENCE REIGNS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then: Talk about Fish. Goldfish have 5 second memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then: Talk about suffocating normalcies and the pressure of the society. Profound? Yeah sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then: Facil - "OI I'M NOT GIVING YOU ANYMORE TIME!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then: We improv a scene of a girl (me) and her parents (Celine and Eddy) screaming about marks. The utopic scene would have been that I burst away from them and go and (of all things) smash a fishbowl in anger. Bianche (the fish) is acting in JUXTAPOSITION (cool word) with Angelica and Yu Xin/Xian happily being fishbowl-walls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But alas, alack, it was not to be. I ended up laughing when Celine said something like "NO BUTS! Even though mine's really fat, but NO BUTS!" Everything went downhill and I laughed like an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One piece of shockingly evident evidence that Anne is idiotic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Film&lt;/span&gt;: This was strange and spooky. Imagine this. A room, darkened and foreboding, with a ghastly, unexplained stench. A crowd of cupboards stare at each other. You shuffle in and into the haunting circle of cupboards. On each, there are boxes stacked neatly, scarily neat, and a doll's picture corresponds to it. Then you hear a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;crash&lt;/span&gt;. What do you do? Scream lah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turns out it was a (DEMONIC DOLL!!!) facil. Man those people are trying to kill us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we had a task of coming up with a 2 minute "film" with us as actors. We had to include:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Prop: &lt;/span&gt;Watch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Line: &lt;/span&gt;I am a Time-traveller's Wife&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Person/Character: &lt;/span&gt;Joey the Plumber. (?!?!?!?!?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, our film scene. Which we concluded, was so profound and utterly abstract, none of the facils understood it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Joey the Plumber&lt;/span&gt; go plumb at a lady's house. The housewife (Angelica) lets him in, with passers-by (Bianche/Me) and servants (Celine/Yu Xian/Xin) watching. He finds a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;watch &lt;/span&gt;which he goes to ask the wife about. She says that she &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;is a time-traveller's wife&lt;/span&gt;. And he fiddles with the watch. She screams, with cliches abounding, "NOOO!! WAIT!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He transports us into the future. We freeze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He transports us further into the future. We DIE. ie. flop to the ground and try not to laugh at Eddy's utterly faked shocked expression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He goes out of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCENE CHANGE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all get up and sit in a line. He comes out, onto a street, where we're sitting. He walks past and our eyes (only the eyes) follow him. And he walks back. Then as if he recognises Angelica (for some reason), he puts down the watch. The watch is the last thing that keeps him alive in...100 years time. So he dies. And we smile sadistically...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And burst out laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAILURE TAKE TWO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Debate: &lt;/span&gt;This was utterly silly. First of all, we were the PROPOSITION! And then we picked the motion, "Schools should abolish Flag-Raising Ceremonies". Get this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE WON! With no real points and simply WAFFLING our way through with a single point (THERE'S NO POINT IN IT!), we did better... Strange way the world works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL HAIL EDDY! who single-handedly defined the only point we had, so the rest of us could simply just...talk randomly and still hit something somewhere. And to BIANCHE! Who hit the right thing right at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Literature&lt;/span&gt;: Against Ashlynna's team, we played LITERATURE TABOO! Have I said before how addicted I am to that game? I've played it 2 hours straight okAAYYY. Anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my team...6-8 cards out of 17 which rules to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One point to the Anne ISN'T an idiot team. yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;THEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;We got back to SALT centre. And had a WARCRY game! Our team won with a scream/bellow/shriek of "PALIN SUCKS!" Yay us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were enclosed in the BLACK BOX to do our closing ceremony drama thingum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing happened except that we went out of the BLACK BOX to decide on something to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided on a world if Sarah Palin had her way with things. AKA. The world Nukes itself in a gigantic WWIII. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Wooooooooooooooffffffff......that was long. Gotta go and do the script now. Seeya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne/Moira/Maple&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-3779165062904712726?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/3779165062904712726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=3779165062904712726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3779165062904712726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/3779165062904712726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/strangely-numb-i-dont-know-why-or-when.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1520642985987283166</id><published>2008-11-01T23:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T23:41:09.520+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;1) Do you have secrets?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yeah. Duh. Like...lots of stuff.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2) How do you explain love?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Overrated, Extraneous, Overused, Stupid.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3) Do you enjoy going to school?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Not that bad. As long as there's Lit or English that day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4) What would you do with a billion dollars?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Immigrate with my whole family to America. EVERYONE. And then start afresh with what's left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5) Would you fall in love with your best friend?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My best friend? If he turns out to be nice, understanding, accomodating, I guess? Though Love is Overrated. Not passion, but mutual comprehension.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6) Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Loving.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7) List out your current 10 favourite songs.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;1. Wherever You Are - Winnie the Pooh (since 1998)&lt;br /&gt;2. Innocence - Avril Lavigne&lt;br /&gt;3. Yesterday - Leona Lewis&lt;br /&gt;4. The Prayer of Saint Francis - Sarah Mclachlen&lt;br /&gt;5. Because of You - Kelly Clarkson&lt;br /&gt;6. Say it Again - Marie Digby&lt;br /&gt;7. 1985 - Bowling for Soup&lt;br /&gt;8. One Way - Hillsong&lt;br /&gt;9. The Geeks get the Girls - American Hi-Fi&lt;br /&gt;10. Shout to the Lord - Hillsong&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8) If the person you secretly like is attached, what would you do?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing. I wouldn't do that to the person or myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9) Is there anything which has made you extremely happy?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Reviews?&lt;br /&gt;*copies Seth's answer* New Friends: Eugene and Seth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10) List the artists you listen to.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;1. Avril Lavigne&lt;br /&gt;2. Busted&lt;br /&gt;3. Leona Lewis&lt;br /&gt;4. Hillsongs&lt;br /&gt;5. Marie Digby&lt;br /&gt;6. Sarah Mclachlen&lt;br /&gt;7. Bowling for Soup&lt;br /&gt;8. Pooh?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11) How would you see yourself in 10 years time?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Smiling and bearing everything. Hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12) What is currently the most important thing to you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Family. Friends. Dance. Writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13) What is the kind of person you think who tagged you is?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Seth? Not that bad, I guess. Cool hair? It looks like a durian. And he may not be gay, but he sure as hell seems to want to be one.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;14) Would you rather have a rich but ugly husband or poor but handsome husband?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who cares? If they understand me and don't mind my craziness, anyone I guess?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;15) What are your favourite colours?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Orange and Black&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16) Would you give an all in your relationship?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;As much as my partner/relation/dui fang gives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;17) If you fall in love with two people simultaneously, who would you pick?&lt;br /&gt;I won't pick.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;18) Would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing someone has done?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd forgive most things, as long as I've done them myself. And I've done...a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;19) Do you prefer being single or in a relationship?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Single. Before I ruin my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20) 5 people to tag&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who wants to do this quiz. Though in particular,&lt;br /&gt;1) Cheese.&lt;br /&gt;2) Naddeh dear.&lt;br /&gt;3) Winneh.&lt;br /&gt;Haha darlin's.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1520642985987283166?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1520642985987283166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1520642985987283166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1520642985987283166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1520642985987283166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/11/1-do-you-have-secrets-yeah.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-2048328913421269959</id><published>2008-10-28T22:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T22:27:05.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Wings of An Angel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The light shines bright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wingbeats waken me from a slumber,&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know I had fallen into.&lt;br /&gt;I feel safe,&lt;br /&gt;you're here for me,&lt;br /&gt;finally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've waited so long,&lt;br /&gt;in oppressive blackness, blankness,&lt;br /&gt;groping around,&lt;br /&gt;falling into traps of my own folly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You left,&lt;br /&gt;far too soon,&lt;br /&gt;no matter,&lt;br /&gt;you're here now,&lt;br /&gt;finally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Squinting, smiling,&lt;br /&gt;Feathers fall silently, quietly&lt;br /&gt;At peace, suddenly,&lt;br /&gt;finally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Borne on the Wings of An Angel.&lt;br /&gt;Are they yours?&lt;br /&gt;Or mine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;A/N: Wouldn't it be nice to have wings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-2048328913421269959?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/2048328913421269959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=2048328913421269959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2048328913421269959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2048328913421269959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/10/wings-of-angel-light-shines-bright.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8868473417179060564</id><published>2008-10-28T21:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T21:33:22.133+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Taken from the Mighty (and coughgaycough) Seth's blog!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Name Someone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. whose hair you like: Uhh...Seth?&lt;br /&gt;2. younger than you: BEN! lol.&lt;br /&gt;3. in your class: Amanda Hsiung&lt;br /&gt;4. that is your best friend: Melissa Tham&lt;br /&gt;5. that is older than you: Sister.&lt;br /&gt;6. that lives close to you: Naddeh darlin'&lt;br /&gt;7. with curly hair: Hermione Granger?&lt;br /&gt;8. that lives far away from you: Mich.&lt;br /&gt;9. you love: lawl. Uh...Mum?&lt;br /&gt;10. you dislike: Oh, gawd the page will be filled! What about *takes Seth's answer shamelessly* Bush?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How old is #3 [Amanda Hsiung]&lt;br /&gt;13?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are #1 [Seth] and #9 [Mum] good friends?&lt;br /&gt;What?! No...they don't know each other...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does #2 [Ben] have any pets?&lt;br /&gt;I dunno...Maybe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do you love #4 [Melissa]?&lt;br /&gt;Fantastically good friends since P1! Wootz^^ And she's been jolly and eccentric the whole way. To keep me company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does #5 [Sister] hate #4 [Melissa]?&lt;br /&gt;Nope. On the contrary, she kinda likes Mel. She's a nice girl really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's #6's [Nadia] weakness?&lt;br /&gt;I dunno...Sick Puns? Strange Humour? Weird Pickup Lines? The Song, "Low"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where does #10 [Bush] go to school?&lt;br /&gt;USA *takes Seth's answer*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who do you talk more to, #2 [Ben] or #8 [Mich]?&lt;br /&gt;Lawl. I talk with Ben more over MSN. I talk with Mich in class. Probably Ben more. *shrugs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In how many years does #7 [Hermione Granger] turn 21?&lt;br /&gt;She's passed that age liao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's #5's [Sister] favourite band?&lt;br /&gt;She doesn't have a fav. Band. More like fav. Songs. But I think she likes Hillsong, Simple Plan...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you ever have sex with #1 [Seth]?&lt;br /&gt;?!?!?!?! Dude. I only got to know him on Sunday? Besides. Love=Overrated. Case closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How far does #3 [Amanda Hsiung] live from you?&lt;br /&gt;*shrugs* Haven't a clue actually. I'm really not sure...Hmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you hang out with #8 [Mich] a lot?&lt;br /&gt;Because of OM. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who is crazier, #6 [NAddeh] or #9 [Mum]?&lt;br /&gt;Nadia. Hands down. My mum is the sanest person on earth. Contrary to that, Nadia is the INsanest. If that was a word. And I love her (platonically) because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How long have you known #4 [Melissa]?&lt;br /&gt;Primary 1. Ever since she asked me...I forget what she asked. But it was something silly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does #2 [Ben] like #10 [Bush]?&lt;br /&gt;Not that I know of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How old is #1 [Seth]?&lt;br /&gt;14 days younger than me. 13.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favourite thing about #8 [Mich] ?&lt;br /&gt;She has the innate ability to be absolutely sick and sweet at the same time. Amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have #4 [Melissa] and #5 [Sister] made out?&lt;br /&gt;?!?!?!?! Dude. They're STRAIGHT. I think. Yeah they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is #9 [Mum] related to you?&lt;br /&gt;Totally. As the name suggests, she's my Mum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you change about #10 [Bush]?&lt;br /&gt;His place at the head of America. It's gonna change soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What colour of hair does #4 [Melissa] have?&lt;br /&gt;I say Black. She say Black. Therefore, black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is #1 [Seth] immature?&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time. A guy who hangs onto his ego as well as he'd hang on to a rope that's pulling him to safety isn't very mature. Though, he's better than Ben. Which isn't saying much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your relationship with #6 [Nadia]?&lt;br /&gt;Friends. Good Friends. 132ers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is #8 [Mich] still in school?&lt;br /&gt;In my class Dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where does #7 [Hermione Granger live?&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in London.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does #9 [Mum] have any siblings?&lt;br /&gt;Yep. 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What sports does #5 [Sister] play?&lt;br /&gt;Skates. Skates. Skates. She &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;breathes&lt;/span&gt; skating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever held hands with #1 [Seth]?&lt;br /&gt;I've only known him for...three days? No! Duh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kind of eyes does #4 [Melissa] have?&lt;br /&gt;I say Black. She say Black. Therefore Black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have #6 [Naddeh] and #8 [Mich] ever dated?&lt;br /&gt;Highly doubt it. Though they might be going behind my back. *shifty eyes* Nah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever seen #5 [Sister] cry?&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. She's me sis. We know most of everything there is to know about each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have any classes with #10 [Bush]?&lt;br /&gt;If I was, I'd giving a hell of a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does #5 [Sister] drink alcohol?&lt;br /&gt;Heh. Well, we drank some once. But it was no biggie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When is #6's [Nadia] birthday?&lt;br /&gt;Forgot. Dang it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;NEWS FLASH: ASH AND SETH HAVE PROCLAIMED ME UCHIHA ITACHI. I WHOLLY SECOND!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8868473417179060564?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8868473417179060564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8868473417179060564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8868473417179060564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8868473417179060564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/10/taken-from-mighty-and-coughgaycough.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-2410849726646660922</id><published>2008-10-20T19:27:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T19:38:40.274+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;13...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Things to do to make your Fanfiction enjoyable&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Make it believable. No one likes a story that has either no plot or no reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Keep the characters in-character. No one likes a OOC person. I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Do something that will either make someone cry or make someone laugh till they cry. The reader should cry either way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Don't do it for a Challenge by either CJ, Grace or Zi Wei. Yes, they're creative. But they're also insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Act it out. It helps if it sounds plausible. (Affirmation of number 1)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Do it while listening to a good song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Think through it before doing any writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Don't redo it after you're done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Read Mad the Badass' stuff before doing anything with yours. She's bloody brilliant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) Make something original.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) Make it so YOU would like to review it. (tough call for someone like me)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12) Love every minute writing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13) Reflect on your characters before starting. It helps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;To me at least xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moiranne Rose&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-2410849726646660922?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/2410849726646660922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=2410849726646660922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2410849726646660922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/2410849726646660922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/10/13.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8582903755020562897</id><published>2008-10-19T18:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T18:49:43.238+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Quizzes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AKA Anne has not learned from the last time she did this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What Your Burger Says About You&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatdoesyourburgersayaboutyouquiz/burger.png" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are very gluttonous. Even if you're full, you'll still clear your plate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are bold and resolute in your choices. You don't back down, and you aren't afraid to go at something full force.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are very traditional in your tastes. You are unlikely to go for a gourmet burger... and very likely to go for fries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have trouble making decisions quickly. Everything looks good to you... especially at a restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are creative, open minded, and friendly. You are interested in all types of food and new dishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/whatdoesyourburgersayaboutyouquiz/"&gt;What Does Your Burger Say About You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Burgers say so much don't they? SCRUTINISE THAT BURGER YOU EAT. IT COULD TELL YOUR LIFE STORY FOR YOU. If it could talk of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are a Gingerbread House&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatholidayfoodareyouquiz/gingerbread.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little spicy and a little sweet, anyone would like to be lost in the woods with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/whatholidayfoodareyouquiz/"&gt;What Holiday Food Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gingerbread...Not that bad...I guess?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are Most Like Dita Von Teese&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatmodernbombshellareyoumostlikequiz/dita.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I love playing the part of the damsel in distress.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/whatmodernbombshellareyoumostlikequiz/"&gt;What Modern Bombshell Are You Most Like?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh...NO! I will stand up and protect myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are A Realist&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/areyouromanticorrealisticquiz/realist.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to romance, you tend to take a realistic approach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You believe that love takes time, and it's something you have to work hard for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bit cynical, over the top romance tends to get under your skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your heart is difficult to win ... but it's totally worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/areyouromanticorrealisticquiz/"&gt;Are You Romantic or Realistic?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Never Date a Leo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatsignshouldntyoudatequiz/leo.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dramatic, egotistical, and emotional - a Leo is way too high maintenance for you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And forget about a quick fling with an alluring Leo. It's either everything or nothing with this sign!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead try dating: Virgo, Capricorn, Pisces, or Cancer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/whatsignshouldntyoudatequiz/"&gt;What Sign Shouldn't You Date?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O....kay...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Communicate Like a Woman&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/doyoucommunicatelikeamanorawomanquiz/woman.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You empathize, talk things out, and express your emotions freely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're a good listener, and you're non-judgmental with your advice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Communication is how you connect with people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're always up for a long talk, no matter how difficult the subject matter is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/doyoucommunicatelikeamanorawomanquiz/"&gt;Do You Communicate Like a Man or a Woman?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duh...I AM a woman...right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are 40% Lady&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/areyoualadyquiz/lady-2.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tend to make up your rules of etiquette, throwing all conventions aside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while you try to be a lady (sometimes), your behavior is often quite shocking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/areyoualadyquiz/"&gt;Are You A Lady?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OHHH SHOCKING you say? I guess I am xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Surfing Habits are 90% Male, 10% Female&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/doyouusetheinternetlikeamanorawomanquiz/surfing-1.png" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we had to guess, we would guess that you are a man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You use the internet to make your life more efficient - and to make you smarter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For you, the internet is like a vast encyclopedia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You search and surf extensively. You look up everything online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/doyouusetheinternetlikeamanorawomanquiz/"&gt;Do You Use the Internet Like a Man or a Woman?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh...is that contradictory?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Ideal Pet is a Big Dog&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatsyouridealpetquiz/big-dog.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're both energetic, affectionate, and a bit goofy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And neither of you seem to mind very slobbery kisses!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyouridealpetquiz/"&gt;What's Your Ideal Pet?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very...slobbery...kisses?! WHAT?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are 45% Left Brained, 55% Right Brained&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/areyourightorleftbrainedquiz/brain.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're left brained, you are likely good at math and logic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/areyourightorleftbrainedquiz/"&gt;Are You Right or Left Brained?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I...see...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Whoo wee...I guess Blogthing is dying off as a craze. Shall concentrate on my NaNoWriMo now. Must plan...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe CJ's challenge will be up soon...hope so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MRAN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8582903755020562897?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8582903755020562897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8582903755020562897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8582903755020562897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8582903755020562897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/10/quizzes-aka-anne-has-not-learned-from.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-1198847207183956922</id><published>2008-10-19T14:43:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T14:48:35.776+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Rules of Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the Rules.&lt;br /&gt;The ones everybody&lt;br /&gt;abides by,&lt;br /&gt;that we should too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't fall in love before 20.&lt;br /&gt;That's simple.&lt;br /&gt;Don't forsake your academia&lt;br /&gt;for mindless fancies that pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't be out alone with him.&lt;br /&gt;You might get into trouble,&lt;br /&gt;because, no one&lt;br /&gt;really trusts your judgment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't hang out with him and his friends,&lt;br /&gt;more than your girlfriends.&lt;br /&gt;You might become a tomboy,&lt;br /&gt;and too rough and harsh for your own good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't wink at him from across the room.&lt;br /&gt;You might distract yourself&lt;br /&gt;from all the work&lt;br /&gt;that really should be done first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't tell him anything.&lt;br /&gt;Young foolish dreams,&lt;br /&gt;will disappear,&lt;br /&gt;sooner or later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't do anything stupid.&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise known as&lt;br /&gt;don't do something,&lt;br /&gt;you'll regret later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too bad really,&lt;br /&gt;that I broke them all,&lt;br /&gt;the first time,&lt;br /&gt;I saw him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;A/N: Fun to write this. And I find it amusing that people think you can "control" love with rules. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MRAN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-1198847207183956922?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/1198847207183956922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=1198847207183956922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1198847207183956922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/1198847207183956922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/10/rules-of-love-here-are-rules.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-7967701981934754612</id><published>2008-10-18T13:12:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T13:27:07.692+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>[ 10 ] Firsts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Best Friend: Vera Loo xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Pet: Terrapins who were released into the Lower Pierce Reservoir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Piercing: Ears. First and only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Crush: Well...I don't think I ever had one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First CD : Coast to Coast, Westlife. Lost it. Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Car: A 7-series Black BMW that I'll probably wreck up. Hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Stuffed Animal: Charlotte, a turtle from Vera. One of the reasons she became my best friend. Charlotte can't be lost, because she's so big xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Love: If I want to go all philosophical, I can say that Love can't be defined as purely romantic, and that my first love would be a cross between my Mum, Dad and sister. But then again, I know what answer you guys want. So First Love? Reno probably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quote from FF.Net (that place runs my life): Why are the best guys either gay, married, or fictional? Unquote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My feelings exactly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Place Called Home: 1A Jalan Seruling S(576836)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ 9 ] Lasts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Beverage: OJ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Car Ride: To Thomson Plaza/Novena Square with my mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Movie Seen: Wall-E (it was bad. Argh.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Phone Call: Heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Song You Listened To: Innocence by Avril Lavigne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Bubble Bath: Long time ago. I can't remember really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Time You Cried: On Friday. I totally messed up my EYAs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Thing You Ate: Crackers and Cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Bad Thing You Did: Wrote a Fanfiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ 8 ] Have You Evers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have You Ever Dated One Of Your Best Friends: Dude. 13 ain't the age to date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have You Ever Been Arrested: Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have You Ever Skinny Dipped: What kind of question is that? No!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have You Ever Been On A Limo: Yep. Too long for comfort. Spent the whole journey with my sister telling me how it could never do a U-turn because it was too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have You Ever Cheated: Yeah. Well, I cheated on Ting Xie in P4. Ernest should know about this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have You Ever Been In Love: In love? Yep. With who? I can't tell you that. The closest is writing Reno's character for fanfictions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have You Ever Been In A Car Accident: Yeah, well, it was in California Disney Land, when I found it utterly amusing to smack my bumper car into my sister's, which landed us in a 5 car pile up actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have You Ever Broken A Bone: I might have. I heard a crack and felt it swell. But it was a minor one, so I don't really care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ 7 ] Things You Are Wearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christian Shirt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Track Pants&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glasses?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ 6 ] Things You've Done Today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrote&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slept&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drank&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laughed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sulked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Screamed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sang&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ 5 ] Favourite Things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fanfiction&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avril Lavigne songs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My journal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holidays (to America only. I dislike anywhere else.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Betas. They're amazingly helpful. (That's Rachel and Gabor FYI.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Argh, another quiz. Sigh...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-7967701981934754612?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/7967701981934754612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=7967701981934754612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7967701981934754612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/7967701981934754612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/10/10-firsts.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-655209499109165077</id><published>2008-10-14T14:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T14:57:15.865+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>At the moment, the things that are getting me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I'm deathly afraid that I offended Ben for some reason. I'm not sure how giving him my fanfiction Pen Name could have offended him, but if it did. I'm dreadfully sorry Ben.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) I have to update my stories. SNYSF isn't dying as much as I think it is, since I have the plot and all. The Last 100 Days, well, it's Rachel's turn. And for The Incident, I've yet to start thinking about it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I've promised Gabor that I have to edit his story. Which I will. Soon. Now. I hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) I have to judge in Genesis Awards. Which means reading things on pairings I don't agree with. Namely Yuffentine. (If you don't understand this, it's YuffiexVincent, one of the more popular het pairings in FF7.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) I'm getting back my results tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) I've stopped writing poetry. Amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Too many plot bunnies obscuring my view. (If you don't understand the concept of Plot Bunny, I'll explain in the footnote.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) SJO doesn't understand what I'm driving at when I criticised her Chapter. Oh dear, I do so want it to win in Genesis Awards, but the judges there want to DQ it blablabla. So confusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about all that's getting to me now. Will talk more later. Some other time. I'm not so sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The Footnote: A Plot Bunny is an idea, a random idea, that springs on you sporadically. Most of the time, it comes when it's not really wanted. And most of the time, it brings a plot, a part of a plot at least. Sometimes they're nice to have, especially when you really need inspiration. But for me, I hate them, because I already have so much to do.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-655209499109165077?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/655209499109165077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=655209499109165077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/655209499109165077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/655209499109165077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/10/at-moment-things-that-are-getting-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-8080060943377345647</id><published>2008-10-12T17:25:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T21:21:25.883+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wow...100th post!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did a quiz. Just one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are A Good Friend&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatkindoffriendareyouquiz/good-friend.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're always willing to listen to your friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you're the first to lend a shoulder to cry on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're there through thick and thin. You won't stop being friends with someone when times are tough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, you're such a good friend that many people consider you their "best friend"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/whatkindoffriendareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Friend Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this right? Sigh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from the one and only Shnutz!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You.Can.Only.Type.One.Word.&lt;br /&gt;Not as easy as you might think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Where is your cell phone? Bag.&lt;br /&gt;2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend? Non-existant&lt;br /&gt;3. Your hair? Brown!&lt;br /&gt;4. Your mother? Downstairs&lt;br /&gt;5. Your father? Same.&lt;br /&gt;6. Your favorite thing? Fanfiction&lt;br /&gt;7. Your dream last night? Blood&lt;br /&gt;8. Your favorite drink? OJ&lt;br /&gt;9. Your favourite colour? Orange.&lt;br /&gt;10. Say something about your life? Depressing...&lt;br /&gt;11. Your ex? Gone.&lt;br /&gt;.12. Your fear? Fats&lt;br /&gt;13. Where do you wanna go later? Pool.&lt;br /&gt;14. Who did you hang out with last night? Betas.&lt;br /&gt;15. What you're not good at? Writing.&lt;br /&gt;16. Muffins? Chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;17. When you DIE, you'd rather be CREMATED or BURIED? Cremated.&lt;br /&gt;18. Where you grew up? Dreamland.&lt;br /&gt;19. Last place you've been to last night? Fanfiction.Net&lt;br /&gt;20. What are you wearing? Ferrari.&lt;br /&gt;21. Where are you? Home.&lt;br /&gt;22. Your pet/s? Virtual.&lt;br /&gt;23. Your digital camera? None.&lt;br /&gt;24. Your life? Angst.&lt;br /&gt;25. Your mood? Moping.&lt;br /&gt;26. Missing? Reviews.&lt;br /&gt;27. What are you thinking about right now? Chapters!&lt;br /&gt;28. Your fav. place? Here.&lt;br /&gt;29. Your work? Chapters.&lt;br /&gt;30. Your nick? Anneh.&lt;br /&gt;31. Your relationship status? Feminist.&lt;br /&gt;32. Your favorite food? Donuts.&lt;br /&gt;33. When was the last time you laughed? Shrugs&lt;br /&gt;34. Last time you cried? Inwardly.&lt;br /&gt;35. School/work? RAFFLES!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FUN! FUN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okays. God Bless to the boys.&lt;br /&gt;LET'S SLACK! To the girls!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moira&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-8080060943377345647?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/8080060943377345647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=8080060943377345647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8080060943377345647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/8080060943377345647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/10/wow.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3565761807085131426.post-5258441271352215596</id><published>2008-10-12T08:54:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T09:07:33.826+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Cool quiz thingums from Ah Gong.&lt;br /&gt;kinda cute...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;      &lt;div style="display: block; font-family: Times New Roman, Georgia, serif; &lt;br /&gt;        width: 289px; height:436px;&lt;br /&gt;        background: url(http://www.oneplusyou.com/q/img/bb_badges/wanted.jpg) no-repeat 0 0;&lt;br /&gt;        text-align: center;&lt;br /&gt;        font-weight: bold;&lt;br /&gt;        text-transform: uppercase;&lt;br /&gt;        overflow: hidden;&lt;br /&gt;        padding: 0 10px;&lt;br /&gt;        position: relative;&lt;br /&gt;        color: #000;&lt;br /&gt;       "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;div style="font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial, Verdana, serif; padding-top: 255px;"&gt;listentothemusicwithin.blogspot.com&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;div style="font-size: 18px; padding: 15px 10px 10px 10px;"&gt;WANTED FOR THE VENOMOUS HATING of a LONELY FELLOW BLOGGER&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;div style="font-size: 22px; text-align: left; position: absolute; bottom: 42px; left: 20px;"&gt;$3500&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;      &lt;a style="text-align: center; width: 309px; display: block; background: #000; color:#fff; padding-bottom: 1em;" href="http://www.oneplusyou.com/bb/wanted"&gt;What's Your Blog Wanted For?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;      &lt;p&gt;Created by &lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com"&gt;OnePlusYou&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aww...if this is anyone, I'm so sorry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com/q/v/caffeine"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.oneplusyou.com/q/img/badges/caffeine_very_high__productive_worker_jittery.jpg" alt="The Caffeine Click Test - How Caffeinated Are You?" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Created by OnePlusYou - &lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com"&gt;Free Dating Site&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cool. Not that bad I guess...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com/q/v/cannibal_lunch"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.oneplusyou.com/q/img/badges/cannibal_lunch_10_cannibals.jpg" alt="How many cannibals could your body feed?" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Created by OnePlusYou - &lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com"&gt;Free Dating Site&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow...kinda funny don't cha think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com/bb/death" style="display: block; width: 241px; height: 107px; background: url('http://www.oneplusyou.com/q/img/bb_badges/death.jpg') no-repeat; padding-top: 75px; padding-left: 10px; color: #fff; text-decoration: none; font-family: Times New Roman, Arial, serif; font-size: 22px;"&gt;150,602 People&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;Created by OnePlusYou - &lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com"&gt;Free Online Dating&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aww...really?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="width: 320px; border: 1px solid gray; padding: 6px; font: normal 12px arial, verdana, sans-serif; color: black; background-color: white;"&gt;&lt;b style="color: black; font: bold 20px 'Times New Roman', serif; display: block; margin-bottom: 8px;"&gt;you are 65% crazy!&lt;/b&gt; &lt;div style="width: 200px; background: white; border: 1px solid black; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="width: 65%; background: red; font-size: 8px; line-height: 8px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 10px; border: none; background: white; color: black;"&gt;you are not calm but you are not crazy so you have plenty of crazy times but it's not overpowering!stay the way you are i think that you know how to control your crazy and that's great!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gotoquiz.com/are_you_crazy_or_calm" style="color: blue;"&gt;are you crazy or calm?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gotoquiz.com/" style="color: blue;"&gt;Take More Quizzes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, less crazy than Ah Gong at least!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheerios&lt;br /&gt;And boys, God Bless for the Exams!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3565761807085131426-5258441271352215596?l=whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/feeds/5258441271352215596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3565761807085131426&amp;postID=5258441271352215596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5258441271352215596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3565761807085131426/posts/default/5258441271352215596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatstheproblem-baby.blogspot.com/2008/10/cool-quiz-thingums-from-ah-gong.html' title=''/><author><name>Moira Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04447911292333342329</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
