<?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-1812205025705469604</id><updated>2011-07-29T08:39:05.942+08:00</updated><title type='text'>BLAH.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-4861243185575831944</id><published>2010-06-25T19:37:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T23:19:11.537+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stepping Out</title><content type='html'>of what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, out of the one thing most people are unwilling to step out of. you've guessed it.&lt;br /&gt;it's something called "comfort zone".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i've&lt;/span&gt; started my walk with God about 6 months ago. that's about 180 days of a journey that i will take all the days of my life from the moment i was saved till i breath my last. and then you know what happens next yea? &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;alright. ever heard of "revival night"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;i've&lt;/span&gt; came back from a three day-two night church/zone camp last week and there were revival nights on both nights. it's kinda like the normal church service, with the usual praise &amp;amp; worship and word. but on revival nights, it's wonderfully powerful and amazing, because people get ministered to by Father Himself. come with an expectant and open heart, and you will definitely receive as He speaks to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;how'd&lt;/span&gt; you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, that's because i have heard. i have received.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Step out," He says. and i knew of what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father knows all His children well. even better than we ourselves do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i sobbed. pretty embarrassing alright, but it was uncontrollable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stepping out ain't easy for someone like me. but i will obey, because i trust. step by step, i hope and pray that i will be able to step out of that circle of comfort, then move away from it. for someone like me, this takes plenty of inner strength. it's difficult. many times i just want to stop crawling and shirk back into my hidey hole. it's like i'm within the boundary of a rubber band, and i need strength to push at its sides. keep expanding it, keep going against my awkwardness and discomfort, keep confronting my insecurities. till i break it. sometimes, or should i say many a times, i really don't think i can do it. but somehow, i feel that Father believes more in me than i believe in myself. i look at myself and sighs. He looks at me and smiles. He knows i can, and i will. like i said, He knows us way better than we ourselves do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;take that leap of Faith will ya?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;six months ago, i would never have believed myself to be writing about this. six months ago, i didn't have a relationship with God. six months ago, i was a skeptic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i now know that when God moves, even skeptics will actually end up moving over to the other side and stay at the other side. amazing huh? i'm really glad and grateful to be found in the House of God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amen to that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-4861243185575831944?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/4861243185575831944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/06/stepping-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/4861243185575831944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/4861243185575831944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/06/stepping-out.html' title='Stepping Out'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-8906334259177749629</id><published>2010-06-12T18:33:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T22:21:29.369+08:00</updated><title type='text'>i lead my life, and God leads me.</title><content type='html'>because the Lord is my shepherd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ain't that right? i dunno why but i just wanted to pen this down as soon as possible. as in it popped into my head and i thought: "i should get this down". so yep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY it's been long since i last blogged eh? haha sorry man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've just got back from Japan about a day ago. lovely country. love the scenery. love Hokkaido. love the food there. love the uber adorable little kids (man i wanna adopt one!). but like they say, there ain't no place like home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Japan's really cool. the people are really polite and i think they've got the world's most considerate culture. i mean, you should see how well-equipped their toilets are. the toilet seat warmer was great, i tell ya. i was so pleasantly surprised when i sat down and exclaimed: "woah! it's warm leh!" nice invention babeh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i had a wonderful time people-watching. some are real fashionistas, while others (most of them) are just pretty much over-dressed. man, you oughta see the gothics there! dramatic make-up and all. they really love dressing up i think. and it was like the norm for high school girls to wear make-up to school. but i think that's more common in Tokyo. when i was in Hokkaido, the high school kids were more mellow. and i realised that what i saw about Japanese school culture and students were parallel (more or less) to what's depicted in the Japanese mangas. really! not just in appearance (i meant school uniforms, not girls with overly large sparkling eyes), but in behaviour too. i thought it was pretty amazing. i dunno, i felt like i've learnt something that would be of help to my dream career, which i am much more serious about now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;teehee~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-8906334259177749629?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/8906334259177749629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-lead-my-life-god-leads-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/8906334259177749629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/8906334259177749629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-lead-my-life-god-leads-me.html' title='i lead my life, and God leads me.'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-2847824220566621128</id><published>2010-04-30T23:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T00:25:06.671+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oops.</title><content type='html'>my my it's been a reeeally long while since my last visit. guess i broke my promise of writing at least one post every month huh. haha but i'm not keen to break a promise i made to a certain (tall and skinny) someone that i'd write again soon, so here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how's life, you say? well, it's been very very... interesting? boring? stressful? happening? busy?oh i don't know. it feels like rojak, honestly. and then again i don't really know how to put this. but life, at the moment, cannot be described by mere bombastic words or beautiful phrases. so, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all i can say is everyday's a daily struggle to survive and pass into the the struggles of the subsequent days. like the verse in the Bible, "... for tomorrow will worry about its own things. sufficient for the day is its own troubles". Matthew 6:34. not only is this verse a vital mental note-to-self to stay on track, but it's a survival tool in my hectic JC life. it's so easily understandable, but just so difficult to act on. because apparently the world is full of worry warts like you and me. haha alright i wouldn't say you but i'm pretty sure of me. i feel my hair turning gray already. bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i need to get to bed now. i must be getting old.. i can't seem to stay up late till around 2am plus without feeling the backlash of it in school. sigh. ah i'll continue this anther time. soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stay tuned i guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-2847824220566621128?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/2847824220566621128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/04/oops.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/2847824220566621128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/2847824220566621128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/04/oops.html' title='Oops.'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-6092088856554387743</id><published>2010-02-14T22:45:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T23:55:44.662+08:00</updated><title type='text'>in living memory of CGS</title><content type='html'>JC has started and i'm having the blues. sigh. i miss crescent. i miss going to an all girls school. i miss my secondary school friends, classmates and schoolmates. i miss the crescent culture. this long list of misses could go on forever, but you get the general idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;guess i'm not ready to just let those 4 years of my life slide into being a part of a memory which can only be reminisced. it pains me to leave that 4-year period behind forever. only now do i actually realize the significance and true meaning of  the phrase "a once in a lifetime experience". my time in crescent fits it perfectly. it's really a pity, and i can't emphasize enough just how much i miss those 4 years in crescent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but this is life. progress is inevitable. knowing how to move on is an essential lifeskill that everyone needs. i know that. but i'd like to move on at my own pace. right now i'm still unable to fully let go of the time i had in crescent. like grasping onto loose threads of an entire quilt that's being blown away. and each and every one of the pattern on the quilt represents a memory of a day in crescent. and every day in crescent was different. a quilt made of hundreds of unique and special patterns that are never repeated. beautiful ain't it. ah! my precious quilt! haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the 4 years spent in crescent was like a 4-year long treasure hunt. the treasure doesn't exist initially, but was built up over time. when i started out, i didn't even know what i was supposed to find. only when the search is over and i come up empty-handed do i finally realize that i had actually found it. the entire process of searching for it is, in fact, the true treasure. and it is my treasure of this lifetime. however, it is sorta like fireworks. (except that it only occurs once in, say, a thousand years.) it'll look brilliant in the nightsky for a few seconds. after that it disappears and all that is left is an empty black backdrop. and if you ever wanted to see it again, all you could do is relive and revisit it in your memory. same thing here. all i can do is remember the fun times, funny times, great times and troubled times i've had during the treasure hunt. time only ever move forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ahh. i feel kinda silly for writing this in a rather kiddie way. but oh well. guess this is how i relate things. anyway, just wanna say that i'll never forget the crescent times. and i'll never forget y'all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;miss you guys loads. SOBS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-6092088856554387743?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/6092088856554387743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/02/in-living-memory-of-cgs.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/6092088856554387743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/6092088856554387743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/02/in-living-memory-of-cgs.html' title='in living memory of CGS'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-1947845325031063979</id><published>2010-02-14T22:40:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T22:45:06.464+08:00</updated><title type='text'>DISCLAIMER</title><content type='html'>ATTENTION: if you've read the previous post, please forget about it. it wasn't by me, so don't get any wrong ideas about me. it was written by a certain friend of mine, whom i will not name nor blame. guess she was just having a strong hormonal urge. you know what they say about teenagers. haha well happy chinese new year to y'all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-1947845325031063979?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/1947845325031063979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/02/disclaimer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/1947845325031063979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/1947845325031063979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/02/disclaimer.html' title='DISCLAIMER'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-1309873080655648093</id><published>2010-01-14T13:16:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T13:37:26.264+08:00</updated><title type='text'>i've done it!</title><content type='html'>haha. i've just submitted the jc admission form about 15 minutes ago. and my last four choices were all courses in singapore poly. heh. in case you were wondering, none of them had anything to do with the culinary arts. though about two of them involved food sciences. haha. cos i had a vague idea of working in a health magazine or writing a column for mind your body while i was putting down the choices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway that's that. oh! i'm gonna have my very own POSB atm card made tomorrow. heh heh. tis a dangerous item for someone like me to have. adieu, money woes! haha, kidding. it'd be a good (if not risky) way for me to exercise some self control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmm. now, what should i do? i mean, i've submitted what i needed to already. sigh. man, gotta treasure moments like these and all the no strings attached free time i have right now. cos in about 2 more weeks time i'll prolly be barely afloat in the sea of jc assignments, projects and activities. eeps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let's all rendezvous soon. teeeeeheee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-1309873080655648093?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/1309873080655648093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/01/ive-done-it.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/1309873080655648093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/1309873080655648093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/01/ive-done-it.html' title='i&apos;ve done it!'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-3821241614714254713</id><published>2009-12-29T23:35:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T00:05:46.950+08:00</updated><title type='text'>hey there.</title><content type='html'>it's been a (long) while since i last wrote. well life's been preetty dead recently. but that's alright. i mean, matches my pace. as to why i'm writing this now, uh, well, let's just say lookbook got boring and apparently someone said that my blog was dead and so i thought since i'm on the net i might as well write something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let's see... oh i've watched drag me to hell last saturday and i was incredibly exasperated by it. heck, half of it was so bad it was laughable. stupid show. should've watched sweeny todd instead.. bah. oh, i've just got my hair cut today and it's bloody short. the shortest ever in (my short haircuts) history. i must admit, i kinda regretted it. sigh. but it feels light and airy. which is good. oh yeah, think i saw ms azlin and her, uh, husband maybe, at bukit timah. she was having dinner and i walked right past her table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it sure doesn't feel like christmas has already passed. heck, i didn't even felt that it was coming. and now it's already gone. sobs.. is it just me or what. ugh. 2 more weeks and we'll all be putting on the crescent uniform for the last time. come to think of it, i don't think my skirt fits anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...what else can i write? i feel so sombre.. i feel like going for a few drinks and get hungover... i feel as if i got sacked. ya know? am i spiralling into depression? probably not. i'm probably just sad that my hair got cut too short. and i feel tired. it's 12 am now. i'm getting old. my left shoulder's aching. i can't stay up for long anymore. hmm better end now before i continue to whine on forever...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;w-ell, tune in for more when 2010 arrives. i'm pretty sure things will get hectic when we all go back to (ugh) school yea? haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;have a happy new year folks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-3821241614714254713?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/3821241614714254713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/12/hey-there.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/3821241614714254713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/3821241614714254713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/12/hey-there.html' title='hey there.'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-5488489309775282011</id><published>2009-11-22T23:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T23:44:58.938+08:00</updated><title type='text'>TODAY!</title><content type='html'>today, i had finally gotten around to packing my stuff. i mean, i was supposed to be doing that right after o levels ended. but obviously the procranstinator in me kicked in and thus i had to use up an immense amount of my willpower to get going. sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i started on packing all the worksheets and paper kinda stuff. hell irritating. and dusty too. man, imagine the amount of paper wasted on printing worksheets and past year papers. some of which, i must say, were completely left undone. burning them all would've given me a greater sense of satisfaction i guess. but for the sake of mother earth (and possibly tania too), i have thus separated the papers into to 2 piles when i was packing; rough paper pile and recycle paper pile. and for some reason, placing paper on my lap makes me all itchy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ah well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have also made 2 discoveries today. firstly, the greatest paper waster in my family, i believe, is my darling brother. surprising huh. thought it would've been me since i do need lots of paper for doodling and stuff. but at least i usually do that in textbooks and worksheets and rough paper. you know, all the non-important material. but to my utter horror, HE certainly wastes loads more than i do! haha. really, the way he uses paper... it is hence no wonder why he runs of foolscap paper so quickly. and so the second discovery is that, well, he'd probably be tania's nature adversary. but i feel pretty accomplished after accumultating a whole stackful of paper that can be recycled. (tania, you'd be so proud of me)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ahh-ah. gotta pack the books tomorrow. then maybe clear out my study table.. ugh. better now than later i guess. got christmas cards to get too. i saw forever friends christmas cards in a pack! so i'm thinking of getting that.. hahaha. oh yeah gotta search for more christmas scores to play.. wanna get a job too.. and learn how to rollerblade up and down hills..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll focus on packing first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(i'm hooked!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-5488489309775282011?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/5488489309775282011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/11/today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/5488489309775282011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/5488489309775282011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/11/today.html' title='TODAY!'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-8063876297201994185</id><published>2009-11-11T19:22:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T19:48:15.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'>promises, promises</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;no promise, is better than an empty promise. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;right? right. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;there is a promise i want to make, but i doubt that it would be within my capability to keep it. it's a promise for someone. but it's a promise i made to myself. no one knows of it except me. if i were to let it become an empty promise, i'll be letting myself down. but i do really want to make it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;it's just that it's not gonna be easy to keep it, duh. but i want to try. but if i still can't fulfill what i promised, then what? is that considered an empty promise still? i think so. cos if i really did try, i somehow believe that it would not become an empty promise. that's really trying ain't it? putting in your best effort and all. so i guess my problem lies in the effort part. i am born uh, lazy, i suppose. so why am i bothering to do this? beats me. i just wanna yannow? haha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;but i think it's more because i don't want it to happen. as in, the promise i want to make is to prevent something from ever happening. i really wish it not to happen. but i know i have to DO something in order to prevent it. not just sit there and watch it develop into a uh, something monsterous, i guess. so i guess this means i'm making it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;yessir. i promise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-8063876297201994185?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/8063876297201994185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/11/promises-promises.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/8063876297201994185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/8063876297201994185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/11/promises-promises.html' title='promises, promises'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-6951551819652571979</id><published>2009-11-06T22:37:00.010+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T23:28:43.931+08:00</updated><title type='text'>grrraaAAAGH.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;i'm in a dilemma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;and it's not the first of its kind. it's happened before. though not many times i think. to choose, or not to choose.. actually, more like to choose this, that or.. or.. aah whatever. haha, more specifically, caught between friends and family, which should i choose? depends on the circumstances right. but what if the circumstances doesn't really help much either? this is troulesome. i'm a lover of convenience. though laziness oughta be a better and much more apt word. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;by the rule of convenience, i would naturally go with family. much less conflict. much less trouble. but rather unfair to my friends. thus i know i shouldn't choose something out of the convenience of it. so, friends it is. but i've been told that i'm being a pushover this way. and it is also unfair to my family. more so to my mother actually. so what next? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;why is it that all i ever consider are these two groups of people? why do i not consider myself? hahaha oh man do i sound like such a selfish prick at this point. but really, what do i think? well i'll tell ya what i think! i think that i go by the "first come first serve" policy. and i do find it tiresome and meaningless to rush by compromising just cos i want to have both. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;however! this means that i'll choose to forsake my friends. and that would upset them. which is not good. duh. how can i please both parties? actually i can, but where does that leave me? a mite miserable perhaps. for having to be steered in different directions by others. so how can i please us all? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;no idea man. i guess that in order to really think for yourself, you'd have to kinda displease someone. that's thinking FOR yourself ain't it? in a way, it's not right to say that this is selfish of me. because it's natural to be like that. to not get uh, trampled on. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;sigh. i still am in a dilemma. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-6951551819652571979?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/6951551819652571979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/11/grrraaaaagh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/6951551819652571979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/6951551819652571979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/11/grrraaaaagh.html' title='grrraaAAAGH.'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-3365109068596803117</id><published>2009-10-14T21:42:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T22:27:32.608+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;recently, i've been searching all over the net for piano scores and classical pieces that sound etheral. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;don't know why i've suddenly developed this hobby. but i do enjoy playing the piano very much. i love letting my fingers run through the keys and how individual notes can woven into a beautiful piece of music. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;when i'm sleepy, i'd play the piano. when i want my mind to be empty of all thoughts, i'd play the piano. when i don't feel like studying, i'd play the piano. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i'm really grateful for the piano. as well as my mom who signed me up for lessons when i was a kid. who knew that i ended up liking it. when i was a kid, i dreaded every piano lesson. then a few years ago, i rejoiced when i quit. it was only last year that i started picking it up again. and i believe it was because of sicheng. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i used to visit sicheng often, almost during every weekend. the first few times i went over, we'd always be by the piano. she'd be playing (like a real maestero!) and i'd just sit by the side and watch in amazement as her fingers quite literally flew over the piano keys. i'd never seen anyone play as fast as she does. at least not up close. yep, so that spurred me to start reviving my long lost piano playing skills. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i must say it wasn't easy picking up something i've not touched in about 3 years. but i'm glad i did. it's weird huh? i'm now liking something i used to dislike. actually, i don't think i disliked playing the piano ever. it was more like i disliked learning a new piece. which means it's out of pure laziness. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;so, i'm grateful for sicheng for that too. man, i miss her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-3365109068596803117?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/3365109068596803117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/recently-ive-been-searching-all-over.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/3365109068596803117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/3365109068596803117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/recently-ive-been-searching-all-over.html' title=''/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-4928273067027519754</id><published>2009-10-11T22:16:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T23:24:44.089+08:00</updated><title type='text'>something that i couldn't forget</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i like reading manga and watching japanese anime alot. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;and there was just this particular anime scene i saw when i was really young. it just suddenly popped up in my head. as if an invisible magnetic force pulled it out of a pile of junk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;it was set somewhere between now and the GUNDUM era. that particular anime episode was the first of its kind i had ever seen. there were soldiers that looked around the age of 7 to 15, and there was gunfire and canons and stuff and buildings that were already destroyed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;the characters in that scene was a typical japanese boy around 15 years of age. he had a companion; a small african american boy that was about 9 years old. they were walking to a camp i think. then elsewhere, there was another japanese boy. he was younger, about 13 perhaps, and he had a little sister that was around the same age as the african american boy. maybe 10 years old or so. both of them looked like they had already lost their parents. during then, they were running away from something, i think. their clothes were simple and plain, but rather ragged and dirty. they were unkempt. the 13 year old boy seemed to be the main character.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;they both came to some place where everything seems almost wiped out. there was no one, only lots of debris. the older brother went into one of the half detroyed houses and he found a group of really young kids (about 5 or 6), in the same state as he was. then, the two child soldiers (mentioned earlier) found them. seems like they were raiding the place or something. but there was only the few of them in that entire area. meaning the two soldiers weren't with their troops. so, there's the bunch of kids, the two soldiers, and the siblings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;the older soldier went in first, and he stood at the doorway. he stood facing the older brother directly, who was some distance away, standing in front of the bunch of kids, protecting them. they were up against a wall. (can imagine?) and then the older soldier pointed his rifle at them, but the older brother still stood his ground and the some of the kids were whimpering. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;they just froze there like that. i think the older soldier was contemplating on shooting or not. and then the screen showed the younger sister, who was holding a rifle (dunno where she got it from). she was standing nearby, behind the 15-year-old boy. she was aiming at him, ready to shoot him in the sly. the older brother can't see her because the 15-year-old boy was standing at the doorway, so he was blocking his view. his 9-year-old companion was beside him. he could see into the house, but he wasn't exactly facing the house directly. his body was half turned, so his back was half-facing the sister.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;at first, he didn't see her. but at the last moment, as he realised that she was there and all, she had opened fire. but the african american boy took the shot just in time to save his older companion. he died, i should think. they showed him diving in front, with one hand held out in a 'stop!' action. his eyes were wide as the bullet went into him, his expression bewildered. it was slo-mo like that for that few seconds. and then he fell. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;then a series of events took place. the 15-year-old boy turned as the sound of the shot rang out, just in time to see his companion fall. he was shocked, and upset. i think he shouted his young companion's name (which i can't remember what it was). then he saw the sister standing there, and before she could react or run or scream, he killed her in one shot. the older brother saw this then, and i guess he shouted his younger sister's name as well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;so they both lost someone dear to them each.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;after that, i can't remember what really happend next. i can't remember if the bunch of kids survived, i can't remember if the two older teens fought or not. but i remember flashes and snippets of different scenes. like the older brother being taken to some place where he was beaten up rather badly and middle-aged men in black suits (like office wear) and a young girl sitting at a long table in what looked like a big, dark conference room, amongst the men in suits. she was of the, uh, high class type. not a rich spoilt girl, but the refined and royal and high status type of girl. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;she around the same age as the older brother. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i think they met somehow. that part of my memory is really foggy and vague, but i think they did meet eventually. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i think the reason why i couldn't forget this was because it struck a chord in me. a really deep one. probably because i've never seen such a.. a.. 'serious' anime before. worlds apart from the likes of pokemon and digimon and whatnot. that was so real. it came like a punch in my tummy, knocking the wind outta me. i believe i was no more than 10 years old then, when i saw it. probably 8 years old at that time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;yep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-4928273067027519754?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/4928273067027519754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/something-that-i-couldnt-forget.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/4928273067027519754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/4928273067027519754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/something-that-i-couldnt-forget.html' title='something that i couldn&apos;t forget'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-4464387570333088921</id><published>2009-10-10T23:21:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T23:23:49.680+08:00</updated><title type='text'>asinine</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;it means extrememly stupid or silly. i just came across it in the dictionary. was searching for the meaning of avarice. haha, now i know of an alternative way of saying stuuupid.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;isn't that great? we learn something new everyday!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-4464387570333088921?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/4464387570333088921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/asinine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/4464387570333088921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/4464387570333088921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/asinine.html' title='asinine'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-1360106500021710593</id><published>2009-10-10T20:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T21:30:16.783+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;if anyone else ever reads this, well, haha, nothing serious, but i'd like to say please don't uh, spread moi blog url or link it or anything. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ya know? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i mean, yes, i know a blog's meant for everyone to see, but i still want a wee bit of privacy please. ok, maybe lots of it. haha, i can't exactly explain it very well, but i like to keep my thoughts. so i do suppose that blogs can be thought-keeping places. other than a traditional diary (with a lock and secret key) which i used to write in a few years back. i've don't keep a diary. at least not anymore. guess i got lazy. sometimes, i wonder when was my last entry. hmm, i might start picking up the diary-writing habit again. but then again, maybe not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;when i grow older, say, maybe 10 years down the road, i'd want to read what my younger foolish self had written, and then laugh, chuckle and cringe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;my first diary entry was written when i was.. 7 years old i think. or was it when i was 9? i still remembered that i had used colour pencils to write, because i thought it would make it look pretty, as if it was a piece of artwork. hahaha, and if i didn't remember incorrectly, i was writing about how unreasonable my PE teacher was for cutting short the PE period just because we were a wee bit noisy. haha, imagine that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i mean, when i seven (or nine), PE was important and i could get angry over it. but now, i wouldn't even care. i guess what used to be important to me when i was a child no longer mattered to me now. perceptions change and people change, huh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;but sometimes, i'd wonder if i had overlooked some of the important things that i do not care for now. other people and the outside world shape a child. what if i had become what i am now because i had lost sight of what i used to think was of great importance to me 10 years ago? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;certain what ifs are better left unanswered, i think. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;but other what ifs can't be answered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-1360106500021710593?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/1360106500021710593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/if-anyone-else-ever-reads-this-well.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/1360106500021710593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/1360106500021710593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/if-anyone-else-ever-reads-this-well.html' title=''/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-5112299637626779158</id><published>2009-10-10T19:04:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T20:13:50.181+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Langage Of Others. a novel by Clare Morrall</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;what a great book! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;just the kind i like. it has depth, but not too much. i love books like these which lets me see from someone else's view. in this case, the view of brilliant pianist, Jessica Fontaine, who teeters on the edge between her private world and the real world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;the parts of the book which i love were the times she was alone as a child and her thoughts. the book paints a quiet, peaceful, hidden world that only she lived in when she was a young girl. it's so quaint! i love the impression i get of her childhood home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Audland Halls, it was called. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;big, empty, old and breaking apart. doesn't sound like the ideal place for most people to want to call it their home. but Jessica loved it all the same. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;and so do i. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;the emptiness was comforting. the age of the house felt familiar. there is warmth, left behind from the rich history Audland Halls held. this is all from imagination, of course. but nevertheless, i still think that it'd be lovely if i had also grown up in a place like Audlands, which was supposedly a country house once. it had a tennis court and a lake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;ahh..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;"i thrive on the emptiness of my house" was what Jessica thought. what a funny way to think, i think. isn't it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; "I'm seeing something new, my own life transformed by the removal of a filter, a different Jessica, someone I have never seen before.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;        It's me, I realise with sudden clarity. It wasn't Andrew who passed it on, it was me. I'm the one with the condition, the infinite space that separates me from the rest of the world. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;        I've spent all these years groping my way along in a bewildered silence, almost blind to everything except my own limited perceptions. I've been travelling without a compass or even a friendly hand at me elbow to guide me. I've lost my way, wandered in circles, never understood how you can use the stars to navigate.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;        And now, finally, after all this time, the dense fog is clearing, drifting away and I can see where I am. I'm on a narrow pathway that leads out of the strange land. I'm about to cross the border, show my passport and step into the real world, blinking at it's brightness.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;        A seven-year-old Jessica skates past me, her plaits swaying from side to side, her whole body absorbed by the rhythm. No wonder Harriet started to look elsewhere for friends, no wonder their mother gave up trying to communicate with her. That other Jessica was unreachable.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;       Music must have helped me to wake up. Something indefinable that dripped down inside, an imperceptible erosion over decades. a slow cresendo, poco a poco. Little by little. And then the shock of Andrew, not gradual but sforzando, suddenly loud, explosive, blasting his way in without subtlety. How could I resist him when I had no defences, no ability to assess other people?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;       I don't need to feel guilty anymore. The disability wasn't his, it was mine. He could have helped me, eased me more gently into the real world, but he didn't. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;       But maybe he did, by giving me Joel. The other defining experience of my life. the revelation that I could love a child, the discovery that everything was in place but hidden, waiting for the signal to emerge."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;you see, Jessica has Asperger's Syndrome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-5112299637626779158?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/5112299637626779158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/langage-of-others-novel-by-clare.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/5112299637626779158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/5112299637626779158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/langage-of-others-novel-by-clare.html' title='The Langage Of Others. a novel by Clare Morrall'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-8258837739575138929</id><published>2009-10-10T00:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T00:58:07.411+08:00</updated><title type='text'>P.S</title><content type='html'>oh oh! i take back what i said about the boring blog skin. in fact, i like it loads and it suits my tastes just fine! most likely cos i'm a boring person by nature. ah well. hohoho, guess i won't be blog skin hunting anymore. teehee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-8258837739575138929?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/8258837739575138929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/ps.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/8258837739575138929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/8258837739575138929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/ps.html' title='P.S'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812205025705469604.post-1501702743253708369</id><published>2009-10-10T00:14:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T01:00:31.404+08:00</updated><title type='text'>friday feelings and first time blogging.(not counted maybe</title><content type='html'>well well. this is my first time blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so! what do i write about? oh i don't know.. it's getting late and i really want to be in bed snoring. and i also wanna change my boring blog skin. i'm sch a noob at this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh yes, today was the official last day of school. the end my days in crescent. no more lessons in class. no more lifting up table tops to dig around for books in the desk frantically while pencil cases and water bottles slide off the table before we could catch them. no more catching people nodding off during lessons, which is really funny to watch. chuckles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sobs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today, i've reached another milestone in my life. the end of 4 years of secondary school life in an all-girl school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm a true blue senior!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahaha. ah well. time to move on. just like always. time is cruel. mean. uncontrollable. grrr. it's just like gazing at a glorious sunset while sitting in a car that's whizzing through the highway. all i could ever do was to crane my neck and press my face against the car window, looking till i could see it no more. then i resumed my previous position, slouching in the car seat, clinging onto the very last glimpse, completely dissatisfied. when time whizzes past while i'm having fun, this is how i feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shit. i closed my eyes for a wee bit and next thing i know, i'm at the brink of sleep. which means that i really oghta hit the sack now. this instant. a longer ost next time i gess. good night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812205025705469604-1501702743253708369?l=nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/feeds/1501702743253708369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/well-well.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/1501702743253708369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1812205025705469604/posts/default/1501702743253708369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nannygoatdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/well-well.html' title='friday feelings and first time blogging.(not counted maybe'/><author><name>bin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01068846078530372020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cJceOVZYAlo/Ss9eEuW0N4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/kLtMqd6DSjE/S220/Photo-0023.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
