<?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-8236354319953010823</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:19:59.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Diary of a Madman.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236354319953010823.post-602290195797227460</id><published>2008-06-30T03:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T04:31:43.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To the past.</title><content type='html'>Can I ever go back to the past?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To when I was carefree and wouldn't even notice the world is ending if it is. Walking around the obstacles in my life instead of overcoming it. That was me. In the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never quite cared about anything. Because it doesn't concerns me. Nothing is a problem when you consider it no problem. I always think of it this way. And nothing is a problem for me. I don't have to overcome it. It'll resolve by itself. It seems that miracle will somehow strike down my problems whenever they arise. But the last time miracle strikes, it made me the happiest person alive. Though it was short-lived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my short-lived happiness, I no longer can walk around my obstacle. Because on top of that, other people's problem became my problem. At first I was just being helpful. Then it became a routine. Soon, it was unstoppable. I guess this is what growing up is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to club without feeling tired and enjoy myself, looking forward to the next clubbing with my friends. But this is what happen last saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We reached MOS and the crowd was fantastic. Not the usual crowd you see around. Most of the people there are those we love to see, if you get what I'm saying. We grab a bite first and by the time we return, the crowd got bigger. But it was still cool. We went in and dance for a bit while looking out for "prey". As usual the "prey" that fits our appetite is harder to spot at MOS then at Zouk. All of a sudden, a group of Korean rushes past us and took our spot. The three of us was no match for their enormous group. So we just stand behind em and continue dancing. All of a sudden one of the girls from the group who we don't find attractive one bit at all started to dance very close to me and in between using her body to touch mine. She even look back and smile. I kept my distance. A safe distance that is. Somehow she was push a bit to my right thus Doman becomes her target. Doman keep telling me she is too much. A bit overboard that is which I reply with a loud laugh. And it is at this time I notice from the group that at the opposite side of me stood one girl who caught my attention. Her single eyelid eyes isn't too big or small, just nice. Her figure was slim and she was tall, which is the problem. She is way too tall. Taller then me. And she is wearing heels. But she is really pretty. Although I find her attractive, I spent the rest of the night laughing at the change of crowd as the night passes through and at the end of it I fell asleep every now and then. I'm too old for such stuff I guess. I'm having lesser and lesser fun as my days passes me like a speeding bullet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I don't feel any link for the two things I've wrote above.&lt;br /&gt;No problem is a problem if you consider it no problem. I ought to do it sometimes now.&lt;br /&gt;And can somebody please write in the freaking tagboard? I put it there for a purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one ever said it would be this hard.&lt;br /&gt;Take me back to the start.&lt;br /&gt;Nobody said it was easy.&lt;br /&gt;No one ever said it would be so hard.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going back to the start.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-602290195797227460?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/602290195797227460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=602290195797227460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/602290195797227460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/602290195797227460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/06/to-past.html' title='To the past.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-8076354696067659646</id><published>2008-06-06T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T08:27:50.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Head or heart.</title><content type='html'>"You always think with your head. But not your heart."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was told this just a few hours ago. I don't know when I started using my head more then my heart. In the end my heart was left alone. It was kind of like being put to sleep. No longer in use. And then I choose reasons over feelings. I choose to let reasons shines brighter then my feelings. I choose to let reasons flows stronger and faster then the feelings can from my heart. But those words struck me hard. I wonder for a moment. And I did some thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Logically or emotionally.&lt;br /&gt;Logically.&lt;br /&gt;I still like that best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-8076354696067659646?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/8076354696067659646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=8076354696067659646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/8076354696067659646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/8076354696067659646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/06/head-or-heart.html' title='Head or heart.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-8422480420464915110</id><published>2008-05-31T11:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T11:49:21.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Truth.</title><content type='html'>Anyone who knows me knows that I'm quick to anger. At least I used to be. But now I angered at the slightest thing. I don't know what it is because I am confused too myself. I've been leading my days aimlessly. No goals, no aims. Nothing. But something always comes to mind that makes me smile and look at the sky above.&lt;br /&gt;My friends.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone of em.&lt;br /&gt;The crappy nonsense we shared, the silly fun we had. Everytime I got drunk, they were there to take care of me. I have no worries. Even though I'm mostly the only one dead drunk. But I always ended up safe and sound back at home. I don't need to bring up names because we all already knows in our heart who we are. I'm not the friendly-ist person because I've already got all the best friend I've need. I don't need many friends. Just a handful will do. Just a few good men. And women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I wanted is to hug my friends and laugh with em. Drink beer or whatever till we drop. Club, dance and grind b*tches all night like we used to do. Even though we don't see each other often, I appreciate my friends. I love you all. I really do. Important no longers describe what you all are. Because its beyond words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-8422480420464915110?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/8422480420464915110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=8422480420464915110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/8422480420464915110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/8422480420464915110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/05/truth.html' title='Truth.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-2277851302389723545</id><published>2008-05-25T01:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T01:55:07.949-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spinning kicks.</title><content type='html'>I've actually wanted to write tonnes of things here but the bloody god damn rain has got to come. Now I can't see a damn thing through my window. Not a damn thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elise suggested that I find a girl and moved to her house. I think thats a great idea. I mean whats better then slots and hugging your loved one? But I think its gonna last me two months before it ends. I have very little attention-lifespans. I cannot concentrate. Actually all of us cannot concentrate. Nevermind it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to a friend. Hope you learn something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to feel what you feel right now. The sky darkens to a grey, the peace turns up to a deafening scream. Yes, I used to miss someone greatly and deeply. No one knows of the deafening silents I endured every day and night. Because I shared with no one. It was painful and yet I kept that feeling. Why? Because the very thought of forgetting that person makes my heart shivers. Maybe mine is worse then yours. The only one I've ever felt close with. The only one I open my heart to. And I did stupid things just to preserve that thought.&lt;br /&gt;But as time went by, I grew. So does that thought. I no longer want her to return. Just knowing that she smiles and felt happy from day to day satisfied me. And as more time grew, that thought slowly vanishes. And I learned that I was just been selfish. Not knowing how and when to cherish what is most important to me and regretting at the loss of it. In the end I realised that whatever I do she's still besides me. Even though after the disappearances of that thought, I still miss her once in a while. But its the memories I truly missed. Even though we no longer feels the same as before and even though I still miss her sometimes, I know at least we used to share something similar.&lt;br /&gt;Now my friend, isn't that enough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the rain, the temperature rises to a great heat. My spinning kicks no longer reach that height it used to soar. So does the turning kick and back kick.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm not young anymore for such stuff.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I need a new heart.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe..&lt;br /&gt;Somehow..&lt;br /&gt;Well..&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-2277851302389723545?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/2277851302389723545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=2277851302389723545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/2277851302389723545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/2277851302389723545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/05/spinning-kicks.html' title='Spinning kicks.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-9127966729069674166</id><published>2008-05-23T11:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T11:55:15.841-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lately.</title><content type='html'>I'm surprised that people actually read what I wrote. But I never read anyone's blog before. I never thought that without giving, you receive. I really think that my blog is boring. No pictures and stuff. Only entries. I'm really lazy. Its already a chore to me to type all this. But despite that I still wrote it. Because people actually ask me to update my blog. So I guess this is this week's dose of boring life. Enjoy people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been watching tonnes of movies lately. The latest of all is Made of Honor with Priscilla. As usual, she laughs at the top of her voice and love to put her feet on top of the seat in front of her. Before that was Chocolate with Andy, SinHwee, DunQuan and Lynn. Its a pretty neat movie. Though the fighting wasn't what we expected, its still pretty neat. I realised something lately. There's always be at least one tranny in thai movies. Most of em that is. A few weeks back I was watching Shutter in camp and thats when I took notice. Chocolate has em figured in it. So is Tom Yum Goong. Enough about trannies. I wouldn't want to get myself started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a pair of earrings lately. It looks exactly like the first series of CDG. Red hearts. Priscilla spotted it first so we both got one each. Or did she? I can't remember. I just remember she got herself a headband. And I also got a eco-friendly bag. Kenneth said that they actually give em for free. And wonder why would I actually purchase it. Damn. How was an army man gonna know that. Oh ya, spotted another feast-able eating place. Its at Bugis. Called MOF. Ministry of Food. Pretty good food but the miso soup isn't. The dessert was really sweet. I had some kinda red bean paste with ice cream and tang yuan in it. Priscilla had some kinda mango stuff which I wasn't keen in trading with her. She stole mine when I rejected her offer. Somebody is just that bandit. Oh, we saw Fiona Xie at Black Clover. She doesn't look different. Just like the one we saw on TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe that after so long, I still get the jiggles down my body whenever I played A Lonely September. September is really a great month. Or it used to be. One of the reasons being its next to October. The latest September has been.. Ordinary. But the feelings from the red box isn't there anymore. It has become just another dusty box. Old habits die hard. But sometimes, it just goes again. Priscilla said that people like us just doesn't really knows what we really want. But I think that the truth is, we've always know what we wanted. Its just that it no longer exists anymore. And we hold on to the shadow of it. After all, we're no longer young anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time doesn't heal all wounds.&lt;br /&gt;Maturity does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-9127966729069674166?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/9127966729069674166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=9127966729069674166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/9127966729069674166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/9127966729069674166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/05/lately.html' title='Lately.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-9057289151020784331</id><published>2008-05-18T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T15:04:40.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unstable mind.</title><content type='html'>"A slight mistake triggers an explosion of a unstable mind."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been easily pissed by simple things this few days. Everyone just stands in my way or just had to provoke me.&lt;br /&gt;Stuff like touching my f*cking computer volume when I've adjusted it to perfection myself. I don't care if its too loud or soft because its adjusted to suit me.&lt;br /&gt;F*ck it.&lt;br /&gt;Going through my stuff in my computer and having the cheek to tell me what you saw. F*ck that, its already labelled "MY DOCUMENTS" damn it, just leave it alone and do things that were permitted for you to do.&lt;br /&gt;Using my space on my desk as yours isn't a very intelligent thing to do. Obviously its my desk and yet stuff unknown to me laid around freely.&lt;br /&gt;And PEOPLE! For god sake, ugly ugly PEOPLE!&lt;br /&gt;Walking slowly like taking a stroll and blocking my way. The PARK is a place where you can stroll till your freaking uncivilised legs falls off.&lt;br /&gt;Rushing into the train when "Please let passengers alight first" has been repeated plenty of times. Must you people rush in and pick a seat? Is sitting down so important that if you don't sit down, your butt mutate into mindless zombie and bite off your windpipe?&lt;br /&gt;Giving an agitated impression when someone else accidently touched you in a crowded place. Mind it please! Because we don't like to touch the likes of you either.&lt;br /&gt;Making a lot of noise in a public place even though it is a "public" place doesn't makes you any cooler or shows that you're very happening. It just makes you an attention seeker. Or sucker. Whatever anyway. I'm in no mood to care.&lt;br /&gt;People who can't make a firm decision should just drop the dilemma and f*ck off. Troubling others by needing their precious time to talk to you or console you when you make the wrong choice. Very irritating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to be so nice the next time someone agitates me. Its not going to be "Please don't touch my stuff" or "Please leave me alone". If you wanna lent stuff from me, drop that idea. Go get it yourself moron. Reading my mag when it only costs two dollars. I didn't buy it so that you could read it for free. Misers should sit in their own corners and wait for their turn to die. Be glad I say sit and not stand. Freaking lame-ass.&lt;br /&gt;Unestimating something and thought that it should be the way you think it is but actually isn't, that makes you look stupid. Words like "It doesn't looks like it worth it" or "I could probably get it cheaper at some *&lt;em&gt;wulu&lt;/em&gt; store" simply confirmed that you are not in the same league as me. If you aren't then don't shoot your mouth around dumbo.&lt;br /&gt;Didn't know what to do in a club but keep acting like you actually had the powers to attract girls when you look dumber then a hippo earns you a punch right in your guts. If you don't pity yourself pathetic looks, at least pity your pride.&lt;br /&gt;Acting like you're somebody else when in fact you didn't have the ability sure makes you hateful to me. Not courageous enough to show your comfortable self? Admit it, you're not with the big boys. You're trying to be, with no efforts at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someones turns their back at you and walk away, turn yours and walk away too. Don't just stand and stare. I'm actually happy to remember someone who did that. I turned and walk away and like you promised before, you didn't stand and stare hopelessly. You did the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn it. I had enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-9057289151020784331?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/9057289151020784331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=9057289151020784331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/9057289151020784331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/9057289151020784331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/05/unstable-mind.html' title='Unstable mind.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-1509108708349242706</id><published>2008-05-05T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T11:11:23.058-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello.</title><content type='html'>"I'm going on the rails of a crazy train!"&lt;br /&gt;The is one of the lines from one of the songs by Ozzy Osbourne. And thats what I'm feeling right now. Going on the rails of a crazy train. And who knows whose train is that. Give me some entertainment from above! I get a whole loads of off days lately but I just spent em at home. I sleep my way through the whole day which makes me lazier and lazier. Jogging is all that gets me going. Like gives me the motivation to get up and start moving around. But its boring to jog by yourself. So I tend to get somebody to jog with me. But it isn't looking very good. I guess being in the army gives you super stamina to run around an estate for like five rounds in fast mode. Most of the people I get to jog with me died after like one and a half. Well, actually just the two of em. Maybe I should try some friends making site and make more friends like Elise does. But then again, how troublesome will it be. Very, I guess. Yes, I just can't make up my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there something magical out there somewhere? I kept thinking about that. How I'm gonna magically meet someone and how this life is gonna change. Its not emotional at this point of time but somehow its just... Hope I think. They always says when there is a will, there is a way. So how do I start with this will of hope? Randomly talking to strangers? You wouldn't even caught me talking to my neighbours! Let alone a stranger. I've brought this issue up for like many times. I just can't get an answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realised I always miss shows I wanna watch. Like AVP2. I remembered that clearly. Yuwen said she gonna watch it with me. Its our show after all. But like a empty hollow log her promise has always be, we missed it. Thanks to her ever busy lifestyle. Can't blame people from changing, can I? I realised how it is to only be called up when you were thought of during the time of boredom. If you're bored and has no one to turned to, keep to yourself and don't contact people you haven't contacted for a long time. Or your head gets bitten off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My language has somehow being influenced. I just can't put a word to it. But here's something.&lt;br /&gt;Intelligent and character.&lt;br /&gt;That is the true power of Education. =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-1509108708349242706?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/1509108708349242706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=1509108708349242706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/1509108708349242706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/1509108708349242706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/05/hello.html' title='Hello.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-5311893701066618616</id><published>2008-04-26T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T23:06:57.148-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mistakes.</title><content type='html'>The previous post was nothing but a fake. One day's event can change a whole concept. The feeling of comfort and ease can only be imagine.&lt;br /&gt;I was never borned with that affection towards my loved one. Or rather, I was never given one. I've repeated this a million and one time. No point showing that after I've grown and my thoughts has matured itself. You have made your problem my problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no more to say. It will all go away when I leave this house. And for people who always tells me to stand in their shoe, you all can only imagine the situation I was put upon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that feelings and the need to sacrifice for someone you love is just plain stupid and absurd.&lt;br /&gt;I hope this is the last time I'll post about something so absurd.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-5311893701066618616?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/5311893701066618616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=5311893701066618616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/5311893701066618616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/5311893701066618616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/04/mistakes.html' title='Mistakes.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-3359172691963921162</id><published>2008-04-26T05:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T06:25:06.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Smiles.</title><content type='html'>I'm utterly down on my luck this month. Sometimes you just can't remember how things starts. Like how my downfall this month starts. And when I started to distance myself from my family. And also how I started feeling familiar with this current situation like I felt before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But thanks god I came across a few songs which draw me towards it. And also a person who add colors to my life. Again. Life isn't so boring after all now. But unlike in the past, I just wanna enjoy and appreciate all of it now. Yes, appreciate will be nice. Appreciation. I should have learn it ages ago. Sometimes I dream of it and waking up thinking it really happened for that few seconds before I realised it was all but a dream. Unlike in the past I get frustated from the moment I realised it was all a dream, I felt lighter and brighter ever since. Maybe thats what they call growth. I don't know. Whatever it is, I love to keep it this way. As long as I can. This positive feeling and this comfortable feeling. Knowing someone is there. Its a... What do we call it? Its a... A strong feeling. Yes. A strong feeling. Not just consoling words but down to earth words which pulls you back. Not many are good at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never really cared about anything. In fact, I've been selfish all the while. But I've learnt to just share. Right now I felt like I'm standing on top of the world. That breezy feeling. I still can't find any poetic words to describe it. Let me think.&lt;br /&gt;Nope. I don't feel the words in my bone today. Maybe next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've died in your arms that night.&lt;br /&gt;It must be something you said.&lt;br /&gt;It must have been that kiss.&lt;br /&gt;I refuses to die.&lt;br /&gt;Until I let go.&lt;br /&gt;Now.&lt;br /&gt;I'm leaving peacefully.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-3359172691963921162?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/3359172691963921162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=3359172691963921162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/3359172691963921162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/3359172691963921162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/04/smiles_26.html' title='Smiles.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-7394427662216627129</id><published>2008-04-11T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T11:22:26.547-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waffles.</title><content type='html'>I've never put any thoughts into anything lately. I smile in my sleep lately and I love eating chocolate lately. I thought I'll be left bitter about that decision I made but I guess not. Sweet beginnings do appear. Although its just simple communication but I felt taken back to the past. Nevermind about that but I looked forward to it instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I haven't left that self imagined room. Can I leave it or will I be trapped? I never know. Is it really ain't no mountain high enough and ain't no valley low? But the more I think about it, the more I wanna do something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is to close that door of mine and falls sleep. Hope that door never opens. I felt safer that way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-7394427662216627129?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/7394427662216627129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=7394427662216627129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/7394427662216627129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/7394427662216627129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/04/waffles.html' title='Waffles.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-8505703873267756607</id><published>2008-04-05T07:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T08:19:00.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Detacting.</title><content type='html'>Many people thought that I was grieving for a lost love in the last post. Yes I'm grieving. But that story never happened. But this is not what I want to say. I wish you were reading this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Affection of blood relatives. Absurd. I never possessed such absurd emotions in the first place. I changes myself just so that you could feel happy. I changes myself just so that you could continue your endless complaining of how this world is unfair to you. But have you ever think about how its unfair for me? Or us? You might have, but I don't feel that you thought about it seriously.&lt;br /&gt;Can you understand how hard it is to face one's fear and problem all by themselves? With no help and no one to turn to. You can turn to me when you feel stress and you can dump it all on me when you don't feel good. Because I forced this so called affection of blood relatives onto myself just so that you could complain and feel good. I'm trading my sanity for yours. I lost my childhood just because of your outrageous anger. I thought you cared. Because all my life I didn't felt you did. But I was wrong. Because everything beats down to a payment? A payment for my youth.&lt;br /&gt;While kids were complaining about having to finish their vegetable or what toys their friends have, I was forced to face the world and grow. I stand in your shoe and thought for you. But did you stand in mine and thought for me? I had enough of everything. Your screaming and your groundless reasons and concept is not what I could tolerate nor contain. I don't feel the needs to stand by you anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I never possessed such absurd emotions in the first place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-8505703873267756607?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/8505703873267756607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=8505703873267756607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/8505703873267756607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/8505703873267756607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/04/detacting.html' title='Detacting.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-7027203075221824026</id><published>2008-03-16T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T12:12:59.435-07:00</updated><title type='text'>la~la~la.</title><content type='html'>To be or not to be.&lt;br /&gt;Its a phase which we heard quite often from plays and shows. I've been asking myself that nowadays. But not to be is always the decision. But then the question is did I made the right choice?&lt;br /&gt;Lately I've been thinking if I had got myself a girlfriend, I wouldn't be in the loners club wondering what to do every weekend. But then again if I got one, I'll be lost in the twin heaven. And so it sent me back to my memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I didn't let go of my past romance, would I be happier?&lt;br /&gt;If I've taken my studies seriously, would I be happier?&lt;br /&gt;If I'm not the "anything" kind of person, would I be happier?&lt;br /&gt;If I've been more social, would I be happier?&lt;br /&gt;If I've been born as a girl, would I be happier?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn. So many questions. So little knowledge. But I know that I'll find all the answers to this questions on June 2009. Its coming soon. It has to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I didn't threw it away, would I had felt that happiness that we planned to have?&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to savour it. Every moment with you. But time passed so fast that I almost forgot how you looked like sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;But I'm still influenced by some of your habits though I wonder if they still lingers in you.&lt;br /&gt;I see that you've changed. Something I didn't imagine you would become.&lt;br /&gt;If its in the past, I would have done everything I could to bring you back to my side and kept you safe from the outside world which I know so clearly that was corrupting you.&lt;br /&gt;But time has drag us apart so far that I could only speak to you and feel for you, blaming myself.&lt;br /&gt;I remembered how you hold my hands and how I hold yours. That feeling your eyes emit when we lock eyes together, it never left.&lt;br /&gt;Your touch on my body send chills of excitement and joy. And that feeling too has never left.&lt;br /&gt;I'll never forget that look on your pretty face when you said that to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"If we manage to live together till we aged, never ever die before me. For I'll pledge you unfaithful to me for that. Because to die before I do and leave me alone in this world knowing that you'll never come back, is just the worst that you could do to me. For I simply need that ounce of strength that you secretly gave me everyday to live through every single day. Let me be selfish, let youself suffer. Let me die before you because I just can't imagine myself without you. Promise me never to stop giving me that strength. Promise me never to leave me behind. Promise me, my love..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I failed and you've pledged me unfaithful towards you. But you still live on as a normal human being just like I do. I did not die neither did I left you behind. I just merely...&lt;br /&gt;Let go of you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-7027203075221824026?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/7027203075221824026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=7027203075221824026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/7027203075221824026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/7027203075221824026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/03/lalala.html' title='la~la~la.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-2862145526368295008</id><published>2008-03-08T20:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T21:00:17.905-08:00</updated><title type='text'>(sign...)</title><content type='html'>What should I write? Well.. Here's something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to believe in almost everything. Actually everything. Then it became almost everything. Now, nothing. You see, hear and come across stuff you thought it goes with the way it goes and follow it through like how Mary goes, around and around and around. You spin around in circles believing your own law of nature. But something is quietly hiding in a corner away from the degree of vision from your eyes to avoid detection. Reality or so is what they called it. I grow weary of people who used to share lots of memories with you but changed after meeting someone new or changes their character over time. We hit so many sh*ts together and fall hard together so many times yet in the end we're left with that few from the many we started with.&lt;br /&gt;Disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;It made me don't wanna step out of my space anymore. Readers who don't understand what I'm saying, just look back in your life and try to remember those you once shared wonderful and happy memories with. If you do, congratulations. If you don't, I hope you do in due time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all. I'm beginning to speak lesser and lesser. I'm gonna disappear.&lt;br /&gt;I really am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-2862145526368295008?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/2862145526368295008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=2862145526368295008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/2862145526368295008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/2862145526368295008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/03/sign.html' title='(sign...)'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-22721306341207562</id><published>2008-02-17T15:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T16:05:49.921-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh gosh..</title><content type='html'>Can anyone just tell me what is this that I'm feeling? Just anyone. Please.&lt;br /&gt;I'm lost and I'm frustrated. Everytime I spend a long weekend outside, I felt so happy. Because I got to spend time with my friends and all that. But when its time to go back, frustration grip me. Should I just disappear for another one year plus so that whenever I spend my weekend outside I won't feel lost? We all knew that is not gonna happen.&lt;br /&gt;I'm addicted to laughter, smiles and silly movements. What is to become of me? So many questions. So much time. So little energy. Just a sign. Just a clue.&lt;br /&gt;I was told to get over stuff which I can't get over. I was told to put stuff thats not important behind. Thats when the shitty part came in. This is what they think. Country over friends. So wrong. Dead wrong. That is why I felt so much agony.&lt;br /&gt;All my friends is a drug. And I'm addicted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;I've forgotten how to love. Teach me for I'm willing to learn. All over again.&lt;br /&gt;To Elise: NO! I DO NOT HAVE SOMEONE IN MIND!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-22721306341207562?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/22721306341207562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=22721306341207562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/22721306341207562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/22721306341207562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/02/oh-gosh.html' title='Oh gosh..'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-9125478871345954789</id><published>2008-02-16T12:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-16T12:34:40.064-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The definition of happiness.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;The definition of happiness.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What does the above statement means to you?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well, for me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It means to see people around me being happy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And that brings happiness to myself.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Is my definition of happiness.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recent events has made me realised that love doesn't just belongs to two people. It somehow magically and unexplainable belongs to everybody. Seeing that someone smile is not good enough. For me, its seeing that everybody smiles counts. The louder your laughter, the wider your smile, the more I feel completed. No matter how many of my friends turn attached or begin to distance themself from me because of a new relationship, I still remember. What do I remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I remember...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Being hit by a pillow till you got a head concussion.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I remember...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Riding late at night for hours and wake up the next morning with your groin hurting like hell.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I remember...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bullying each other into submission for our own personal gains everytime.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But what I remembered the clearest...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We're not friends. But buddies.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we celebrated Priscilla's birthday. No interruptions and no sadness. Perfect company and perfect planning. I will not go into details as because if I did, it would be endless.&lt;br /&gt;Once again Happy Birthday to my Goddess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To those who complete me.&lt;br /&gt;Our story will never has an ending.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-9125478871345954789?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/9125478871345954789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=9125478871345954789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/9125478871345954789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/9125478871345954789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/02/definition-of-happiness.html' title='The definition of happiness.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-5275652230116073806</id><published>2008-02-09T01:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T02:23:22.528-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chinese New Year!</title><content type='html'>A happy chinese new year to all my devoted readers! Haha! This year's new year is pretty much fun. Crushing over at my peeks place and going all over the country and meet up with relatives that I don't even know I had. Lets get started shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Chapter I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;First Chapter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Visiting Relatives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DAMN! Went over to Cheryl's mom place and I was shock to saw how everyone had grown. Yan Shan had grow even taller then me! I repeat, I was shock beyond words. Then I saw Cheryl's papa and he was so friendly! When we were young, the brought up of his name just spent us sitting down properly in order. The rest of the kids grow up beautifully and the day ends happily. Smiles to that.&lt;br /&gt;Next, went over to Gramps's brother place yesterday. And I can't describe how I feel when I saw tonnes of people there that I've never seen before. Yes, again I was shock. Then this mysterious uncle who said he was Pops cousin came up to me and started grilling me. His son was also serving the NS and he kept making fun of how his son is so tanned while I'm so fair. Armor soldiers stay in their AFV instead of running around, DUDE! I was frustrated. For a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Chapter II&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Second Chapter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Marina Square, My place and Kelvin's place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went over to Marina Square after some visiting and we did something fun. We did bowling. It was fun. We had some trash talk, laughing at Priscilla and of course, enjoying ourselves. Thats all we did there. Bowling. From what I can remember. Just bowling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To Priscilla: Call me Mr. Bowling next time okie? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First thing I wanna say when they crush over to my place is that all my BahKua is finished by em. I had nothing to eat the following day. Even Elise laugh about it. We played cards through the night and when everyone went back, I felt asleep on the sofa from the six cans of beer I drank. Elise was scared stiff when she came back when she saw someone sleeping on the sofa. She ran back to her room straight. Just imagine that.&lt;br /&gt;ALL RIGHT! Kelvin's place! I fell rock bottom there and I raises above to attain the names of the likes of God. Yes. My wallet started from three hundred plus to a mere small ranking amount of fifty dollars. Just when I thought I was going to fold for the night, I brought a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;YES! WO MAI LE YI KE XI WAN!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went over to Texas after I pludges deep from Black Jack. I decides to buy a chance with the mere fifty dollars I'm left. From a child to a strong adult. My small village strengthen itselfs into the MIGHTY FORTRESS OF DEXTER! Texas and Black Jack was easy to win from that point of time.&lt;br /&gt;I know what you're all thinking.&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I'm one damn lucky son of a gun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Chapter III&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Final Chapter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Feeling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joys fill up the emptiness within the depths of my hungry heart. Its no longer hatred I feel. I hated and condemned people I dislike. But the joy that came knocking this year taught me something.&lt;br /&gt;With love came forgiveness.&lt;br /&gt;Why do everyone becomes unhappy whenever someone you dislike came into the picture or the mention of their names causes an explosive reactions of rage?&lt;br /&gt;Because you dislike em. This spoils all joy that has been builded up from the happy occasion and everything just sank. The things you dislike about others is not what you can control or change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will forgive and I will not speak foul of em.&lt;br /&gt;But neither will I speak to em.&lt;br /&gt;Although with the birth of love and forgiveness, something else was born.&lt;br /&gt;A sense of &lt;em&gt;en guard&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-5275652230116073806?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/5275652230116073806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=5275652230116073806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/5275652230116073806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/5275652230116073806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/02/chinese-new-year.html' title='Chinese New Year!'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-70315680256249496</id><published>2008-02-02T22:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T23:23:28.677-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forbidden Entry.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;The line that divides good from evil.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The line that divides right from wrong.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where is the line that divides my sanity from the depths of the evolutions of insanity?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past few weekend has again left me in doubts. Plenty of doubts. I've been doing things for a good five minutes and right at the dot of that five minutes, I pulled back. So that left me wondering what do I really want? This questions has haunt me for like a decade.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, right from when I'm ten.&lt;br /&gt;We'll come back to this questions later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only recall what happened last week. And it isn't even somewhere near pleasant. I got my saturday burned just because I trusted someone who nobody would have trusted. Damn. They kept saying "Give em some yellow ribbon will'ya?" And I did. And I got slaughtered. Mercilessly.&lt;br /&gt;For that night I trembled. Not out of fear but out of anger. Frustations. An agression inhibitor. I stayed alone in bunk while every other went back home. Even those who were suppose to join me went out for the night.&lt;br /&gt;At that moment, that split second, I was alone.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't turn on the lights for the lights hurts my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;So in the dark I sat on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;Crossed legged. Deep breath down my lungs.&lt;br /&gt;I cursed.&lt;br /&gt;"How many more rotten people do I have to meet?"&lt;br /&gt;The following day came and go and before I knew it, Sunday has come. I was on the bus with John when the topic of what are we gonna do after NS came up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always wanted to be a teacher much to everyone's surprise. That can only come true if I were to put in a hundred and one percent in it. But being never had put it everything that I've got into anything before, it can only be afterall a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life seems to be an old, old country song.&lt;br /&gt;Its soothing to the ears.&lt;br /&gt;But can never keep up with time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-70315680256249496?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/70315680256249496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=70315680256249496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/70315680256249496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/70315680256249496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/02/forbidden-entry.html' title='Forbidden Entry.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-4080892892580800039</id><published>2008-01-19T09:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T10:12:53.762-08:00</updated><title type='text'>*Sign...</title><content type='html'>I'm sitting here with an empty stomach, a can of beer and a heavy heart. Trap in camp for two weeks and just when I got to book out, thinking that I could enjoy the weekend with all my friends, things just took an unexpected twist. I'm seriously pissed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend was a waste. I spent the whole of friday at town wondering aimlessly around town with shunnie trying to do some shopping. Then was rush for time when Lyon and friends wanted to go to MOS at night. Ended up just when I was leaving the house, Lyon called off the whole thing. I wasn't pissed about that. But about something that I got to know in the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, I don't know if she knows that I don't really like her. In fact, I felt that she was a cheat. Damn. I was blind. I don't blame nobody about it. But why do you have to do that?! All the things she said was obviously lies and nothing else. And yesterday when shunnie told me about it, I felt I got robbed. And Pris told me something that really makes me so angry. Forget about it. Lie your way around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought I would met "Masked" people.&lt;br /&gt;ARGH! You're terrible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-4080892892580800039?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/4080892892580800039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=4080892892580800039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/4080892892580800039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/4080892892580800039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2008/01/sign.html' title='*Sign...'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-5647999050540436312</id><published>2007-12-30T18:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T18:58:39.217-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't know..</title><content type='html'>I just can't get enough of been the biggest S.O.B in the area. The slightest stuff triggers me and off I go into a mindless rampage. I won't stop until I've killed your pride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't stop hating people. But lately, I seems to take this reasonless and mindless attitube of mine into considerations. I just seems to. So its just perhaps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIELD CAMP! I've got swollen fingers, bad knees, aching butt and a night without sleep. Yes. The whole night.&lt;br /&gt;I got swollen fingers from carrying my LAW tube and rifle wherever I go.&lt;br /&gt;I got two bad knees from squatting to proding right in the middle of a stony field.&lt;br /&gt;An aching butt from stings provided by countless flies.&lt;br /&gt;And a night of cleaning weapons all the way till dawn!&lt;br /&gt;How does it sounds to you? Manly? Tough? Insane or just bullshit? I preferred to refer it as "Nonsense." It doesn't make sense PETE! The things I do may have some reasons to it but its still pointless. Do you follow the drills when a real war breaks out or do you just simply find ways to stay alive? Enough of such stuffs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept asking all my bunk mates why can't I find a sexy and horny bitch to be a girl at the becks of my call? HAHA! I mean every guy would love to have that kind of lady beside him! Or a hot middle age lady to be your sugar mummy! I know what you all might be thinking about me now but at least my friends agree with me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All right, thats all I wanna say.&lt;br /&gt;Looking forward to your return, Elise.&lt;br /&gt;Don't forget what I told you the other time. Haha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-5647999050540436312?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/5647999050540436312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=5647999050540436312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/5647999050540436312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/5647999050540436312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-dont-know.html' title='I don&apos;t know..'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-1373202072780945248</id><published>2007-12-25T03:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-25T03:20:37.163-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You won't need other friends anymore.</title><content type='html'>My Christmas has left something to be desired. Celebrations always left me missing my friends. Especially now, cos I'm booking in later. I have a kind of mixed feeling inside. I've wrong perhaps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday's celebration left me wasted. Again. I've made a mockery out of myself as always so I have to take extra note that yesterday is gonna be the last time. I swear upon my own devil that it will be. I felt stupid everytime waking up in my room with no idea of whats going on.&lt;br /&gt;That concludes what happens during my Christmas celebration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Conclusions: I got drunk.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meeting the right person is not just through your feelings when you thought they are the one. Loving and sacrificing for the mistaken one is a terrible, terrible mistake. In others eyes, they will reason with you and try to pull you out of the pit you've dug and jumped right in. But in your eyes, nothing gets in. Even when you know that you've wrong. But once everything gets in, you swore vengeance against the very loved one you once loved. Hatred follows and soon you're on your way to search for another.&lt;br /&gt;I understand because I walk through that path and even swore that very vengeance before.&lt;br /&gt;Fuck it. I don't even have to do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its just all one sad, sad story. With nobody crying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-1373202072780945248?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/1373202072780945248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=1373202072780945248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/1373202072780945248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/1373202072780945248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2007/12/you-wont-need-other-friends-anymore.html' title='You won&apos;t need other friends anymore.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-3762798779182560164</id><published>2007-12-20T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T10:02:17.128-08:00</updated><title type='text'>YAAAWWWNNNNNNN!</title><content type='html'>YAAAWWWNNNNNNN! Its just boring having to guess what others will do the next moment. For starters, just wait and see what they'll do. You'll be surprise at what they'll do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell asleep in the evening and I woke up at midnight to find that Gramps and Pops are sound asleep. Its pretty normal for other people but not for me. Cos I didn't have dinner...&lt;br /&gt;I just live my life my ownself in this house. I'm not angry or anything but just.. Well.. Just an angry hunger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough about today. Its cold and its frustrating. Yesterday went clubbing with Zhihong, 'Do-min-ci' and Lyon. Had fun yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was the only day or it seems to me that I met my peeks without arranging it before hand. I met Andy and Jaci at Zouk when I'm with Kenneth and the rest of the three mentioned above. Then I went to MOS and met Kelvin and his friend there. And coincidentally Doman was there with Shirley. I didn't have a chance to see Doman's NSF appearance as he was moving way too slow. And as someone with no patience, I went back in before he came.&lt;br /&gt;Thats that for yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is just round the corner. I got 4 invitations. I turn down 2 and I'm gonna turn up for 2. Doman ask me along to a wonder-ous celebrations! WOOHOO! And then there's the annual celebration of the west side community. Wonder what they'll plan this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt that I have to say this. If people think that I'm gonna be brought down upon my knees with the words they say and treat em like God, they might as well just fall asleep and keep dreaming about it. Taking kindness for granted is suicidal. Gonna get you killed one way or another.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know whats their intention and before I brought em down upon their knees and treating me like God, just wrap it all up and go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Je suis Dieu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-3762798779182560164?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/3762798779182560164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=3762798779182560164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/3762798779182560164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/3762798779182560164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2007/12/yaaawwwnnnnnnn.html' title='YAAAWWWNNNNNNN!'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-8938527520223562740</id><published>2007-12-16T09:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T10:07:44.180-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Many entries.</title><content type='html'>I'm getting tonnes of off this and next week. I get bored on offs but I get frustrated in camp. So what should I do? I'm so tired I wanna sleep. But I'm so afraid that when I woke up, its time to go back to camp already. So I suppose I like offs more then camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to section live firing on Thursday. Got myself all muddy but the thoughts of looking at the stars at night brought smiles to my face. But good things doesn't always happen. Cos I can count the stars in the sky with my ten fingers that night. Worse night I ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Because I get to see the star but not the star's'!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I should wipe Bianca off my mind. She is not even a person. She is just a future plan I had in mind. I guess it spooks the wig out of people who heard of her. I should concentrate on something more meaningful.&lt;br /&gt;I suppose..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday morning I got a call from Gramps saying that the lift broke down. I was shocked. Fear begin to grip me as I try my very best to think of ways of how to reach my doorsteps without having to climb 22 storeys. But I fail to come up with a solution so I end up playing Tomba 2 to forget the matter which is quite random. Moments later I called back to check if the lift is still down and yes it is. Then Gramps started bragging about how she climb that awesome 22 storey twice in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;She is practically taunting me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i decided to go climb that freakish 22 storey just to stay in the same league as her. When I finally reaches the top, I try to look as fresh as possible before I enter the front door. But Gramps could still sense the tiredness within me. And I lose. Just by one bit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At night I went to the movies with Yihui. But before that I met Shunnie at town. Her girl always irritates me whenever the both of us met. I guess I can't click very well with the younger generation. We watch Warlords which I think is quite a nice movie. Yihui was confused and couldn't understand what happen for like half of the movie. I had to explain in details before she got it. Maybe I could get a sketchbook next time. Will be easier. Haha! Just joking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stayed home the whole day today and all I did was just sit in front of the computer not knowing what to do. Maybe I should get a PSP or PS 2. Not a PS 3 because just buying its game would stir suicidal ideas in my head. But buying such items would mean I have to share it with all of Gramps' *Xiao Peng You. I guess everything does have its pros and cons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have nothing more that I want the rest of the world to know anyway. Till next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;*Xiao Peng You: Means little friends. They're in fact my cousins. And they are Gramps favorites.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-8938527520223562740?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/8938527520223562740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=8938527520223562740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/8938527520223562740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/8938527520223562740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2007/12/many-entries.html' title='Many entries.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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-8236354319953010823.post-779877925692861699</id><published>2007-12-08T22:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-08T23:07:51.824-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Restart.</title><content type='html'>Its a restart for me.&lt;br /&gt;To be a brand new person.&lt;br /&gt;Not some alien creature who doesn't talk much.&lt;br /&gt;To search for my &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Bianca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week being to field camp. Yes, one of my dreadest nightmare. 3 days of bathless nightmare. Slept in open space which happens to be an open field! With hundreds and thousands and millions of unknown bugs creatures swarming around waiting to have a taste of your blood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Bloodshed will not be prevent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days are hard to pass thats why the night time is my reward. We happen to sat on an open rocky site where we glaze up the sky which contains millions of beautiful stars.&lt;br /&gt;And I swear.. Millions of em. Its a sight to behold.&lt;br /&gt;I ask Sir Walter why don't we normally catches such breath-taking view in our CV life and even he doesn't have an answer for that. I think for an entire night and figure out my own answer.&lt;br /&gt;Because we rarely slow down our footsteps and take a look around our world.&lt;br /&gt;I mean, who would actually for once take notice of things around em? They're always busy and engross with the things they do. But for me, time is all I have because there's nothing for me to engross in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to sail the seven sea. Just like Sinbad, The Legends of the Seven Sea. Out in the sea, away from the busy lifestyle of everyone. I just wanna Hor-lan for once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, the star filled sky is really beautiful. How I wish the one besides me is a little girl called &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Bianca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;NOT COUGAR COMPANY'S PLATOON TEN!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;*Hor-lan: Lost in someplace.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8236354319953010823-779877925692861699?l=dexca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/feeds/779877925692861699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8236354319953010823&amp;postID=779877925692861699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/779877925692861699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8236354319953010823/posts/default/779877925692861699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dexca.blogspot.com/2007/12/test.html' title='Restart.'/><author><name>Dexter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14527680010936983261</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>
