<?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-29656828</id><updated>2012-01-11T13:04:35.681+08:00</updated><title type='text'>errant thoughts</title><subtitle type='html'>someday... i'd be there someday...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>244</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-414219568903438705</id><published>2011-12-11T19:45:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-11T20:08:57.989+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tears and Rainbows</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;The past couple of days was hard. What I have always known came back to the surface to hit me again real hard. I guess I was just too stubborn to accept what I should have accepted a long time ago. You were never mine. Yes, maybe you did try to see if you will feel something for me, I would like to believe that the effort would not have been there if you did not try to see me as other than your friend. But it was just not enough. You feel so strongly about her that nobody else will do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;What you said the other day, that you are willing to wait no matter how long for her even if you know that your chances are slim, that hurts. But it also made me realize that i'm a fighting a lost fight. Whatever slim chances of hope that I have, it all vanished with that statement. Maybe it's for the best, maybe it's for my own good. Maybe that is what I need to really start forgetting what I feel about you, heal my broken heart, and eventually move on. But it will take some time, I don't forget easily, that's the problem. But that's my problem not yours. Actually, this whole thing is my problem, not yours. You did not ask me to fall in love with you, I just did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;I will still be your friend, yes, that much I can promise you. But maybe, just not like as before. Because, i'm still hurting after all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;I will be okay, someday I would be able to look back at this whole thing and just smile with fondness, maybe. As they say, there's always a rainbow after each storm, so i'll just let myself be sad for a while and let the tears flow, so that after all these, I will finally see my rainbow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-414219568903438705?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/414219568903438705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=414219568903438705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/414219568903438705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/414219568903438705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2011/12/tears-and-rainbows.html' title='Tears and Rainbows'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8631542449407746277</id><published>2011-12-04T13:50:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-05T09:27:36.845+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;by Pablo Neruda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;I do not love you except because I love you;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;I go from loving to not loving you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;From waiting to not waiting for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;My heart moves from cold to fire.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;I love you only because it's you the one I love;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;I hate you deeply, and hating you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Maybe January light will consume&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;My heart with its cruel ray&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Stealing my key to true calm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;In this part of the story I am the one who dies,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;The only one, and I will die of love&lt;br /&gt;Because I love you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Because I love you, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Love, in fire and blood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8631542449407746277?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8631542449407746277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8631542449407746277' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8631542449407746277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8631542449407746277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-do-not-love-you-except-because-i-love.html' title='I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3824779772687478015</id><published>2011-12-01T15:51:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-01T16:15:47.332+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing you...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lately, you and I haven’t been talking… (Is it Over Now, Nina)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As with all recovery process there will be good days and there will bad days. This is one of the bad days. I don’t know if it’s just that time of the month but I find myself getting lonelier and lonelier each day. I miss you. No matter how much I pretend that I don’t, I really do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I miss the times that we never had… (Almost, Tamia)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, maybe it’s more of I miss our friendship, if you could call it that. I miss our conversations, no matter how silly the topic is. I miss how you would ask me “balita” when you see me online in facebook, even if we just went our separate ways a couple of hours back. I miss making fun of you and how I could just be myself when i'm with you. The companionship, the laughter, even the silence. I even miss how you nag me when I stay up really late. Sometimes I wish I could turn go back to that time when I haven’t fallen for you yet, back when everything was just fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;There’s a difference between dreaming and pretending… (Goodbye Alice in Wonderland, Jewel)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I must keep my resolve. I must keep that space between us so I could get over you or whatever this is that I feel for you. I must do this for myself because it has already hurt too much and I could only take so much. In time, maybe I could go back to being your friend, but for now, I’ll just keep on missing you until it all goes away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead… (Someone Like You, Adele)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3824779772687478015?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3824779772687478015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3824779772687478015' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3824779772687478015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3824779772687478015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2011/12/missing-you.html' title='Missing you...'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-4354073145078884350</id><published>2011-11-14T22:14:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-14T22:33:24.424+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Never Mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="trebuchet ms"&gt;I'm listening to Glee's mash-up of Rumour Has It and Someone Like You both by Adele and i'm absolutely loving it.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;----------&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;It's getting harder everyday but I know that this is the right thing to do. I think he's starting to notice that i'm distancing myself from him but it's better this way. Maybe i'll lose a friend, maybe not. But I know that it's time for me to give myself a chance to heal and move on. I don't want to waste my time and feelings anymore on something that's going nowhere, I think I deserve better than that.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;----------&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;I'm going to Baguio!!! I'm going to my happy place, hopefully it will do wonders to my current disposition. Really looking forward to this trip. :D&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;----------&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;font size="2" face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;We celebrated my Lola Cely's 76th birthday yesterday. As always, it was fun being with that side of my family. Sayang, Lolo Dinong is not with us anymore, he would have enjoyed making fun of Lola. God, I miss him so much, we all do. So much.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-4354073145078884350?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/4354073145078884350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=4354073145078884350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4354073145078884350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4354073145078884350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2011/11/never-mind.html' title='Never Mind'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5007093036832846428</id><published>2011-08-24T21:52:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T22:02:12.661+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Will I Ever?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I've been drowning in sadness and longing for quite sometime now and honestly, it's getting tiring. Each time that I think i'm feeling okay, something will happen that somehow i'll find a way to make a big issue out of which in turn will cause me to feel sad again. I don't want to unload on my friends anymore because it's the same topic again and again and I know that eventually I will also tire them out so i'm keeping all of it to myself. I've been snappish, and moody, and basically pretty hard to live with for the past months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Problem is, I don't know exactly what it is that i'm looking for. I don't know if i'm where I am now, emotionally, because of a specific person or because there is something that I so desperately want but I can't seem to have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I want to be in love and be loved in return, why is it so damn hard?? Will I ever get a shot at it? Will I ever find him? Sometimes i'm not so sure anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5007093036832846428?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5007093036832846428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5007093036832846428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5007093036832846428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5007093036832846428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2011/08/will-i-ever.html' title='Will I Ever?'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8165893707481620678</id><published>2011-06-22T12:57:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T12:57:46.813+08:00</updated><title type='text'>062211</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Letting go by its nature is hard. For me, letting go of something you never had should be the easiest type of letting go. Then why am I finding it so hard to do so?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It probably is my fault. Maybe I gave more meaning to the friendship that you offered. Maybe I allowed myself to hope that there could be something more, that somehow there is something more. Maybe that is why I find myself hurting now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if the reason why I was so gullible was because I am so desperate to fall in love, so frantic to experience how it is to be in love and be loved in return that I see each act of kindness or friendship as so much more. This feeling of desperation is what makes me vulnerable, more susceptible to hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When things were starting, I only had one prayer. That if it is not you that you be taken away from me. That we don’t become too close that I won’t be able to hold myself back from falling for you. That if it is not you, that God won’t allow me to fall for you. But I did. And it probably was my fault, because I failed to recognize the signs, or that I stubbornly refused to recognize the signs that He has given me. And now I am again asking for a sign, and I sincerely hope that this time I will listen. So that I truly let you go and just accept the friendship that you offer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And maybe then, I will be ready to open my heart to the one who is truly meant to be in it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8165893707481620678?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8165893707481620678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8165893707481620678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8165893707481620678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8165893707481620678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2011/06/062211.html' title='062211'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8422184886108757837</id><published>2011-01-20T09:33:00.014+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T10:50:48.011+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Raisin Bread</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;There are several things running through my mind that I thought Twitter would not be enough then I remembered that I have a blog! :P  So, just random thoughts. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I want a raisin bread, like the ones from Baguio Country Club.  I don't know though where I can get the same here in Manila.  And speaking of Baguio, I really want to go back there this year!  I also want to try the breads from Palaganas Bakery that I read in one of my &lt;a href="http://dessertcomesfirst.com/archives/3288"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt; hops.  I also want to join the &lt;a href="http://baguio21k.com/"&gt;21KM&lt;/a&gt; run in Baguio this coming April 21.  Hmmm, we'll see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I like breads.  I know several people who doesn't like it but I love them.  I even like trying unknown ones.  But I don't like plain bread.  I like them with raisins (fave!), or nuts, or with spread (fave is just a bit of butter with jam).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;For my 1st run in 2011, i'm running for the &lt;a href="http://www.conduraskywaymarathon.com/"&gt;dolphins&lt;/a&gt;!  My registration was a gift from my dear friends, Mark, Bom, and Jela so this run is also for them.  I wish to do a better PR, and it's kind of exciting because this is a new route for me.  And imagine running on the skyway!!!! (huge grin on my face!).  I want to do a full marathon sometime towards the end of the year, I hope and pray that i'll be able to do it. :)  But i'm planning on doing shorter distances for the meantime with a couple more of half-mary's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Yesterday I got a bit sad about something.  Well, it was mostly assumption on my part really.  And if I would say it outloud, I think my own self will turn to me, one eyebrow raised, dead stare and say "Huh?".  It's silly I know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I can't seem to summon the willpower that I had when I started dieting.  Ewan ko ba, nakakainis.  I can't say no to food na ulit ngayon, I just compensate it with gym and exercise.  That's why I can't lose the 10lbs that is stubbornly clinging on to my body.  Argh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sometimes I don't want to look at Piolo anymore... lalo lang ako nai-in-love sa kanya.  Hahaha!  And i'm giving Fully Booked a wide berth these days, kasi baka pag dumaan ako, i'll go out P2,500 poorer because of his coffee table book.  Actually, good was there was an open copy at the Rockwell branch so I was able to browse it.  Isang malaking "haaaaaaay Piolo".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;How do you know if a guy likes you?  How can you tell?  Pag ba mas madalas syang nangungulit is that paramdam?  Or baka sa mga panahon na 'to wala lang talaga syang masyadong friend?  Hehe.  Bano talaga 'ko when it comes to these matters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I know I shouldn't complain and be thankful that I have a job, but sometimes you get so tired that you can't help but complain. :(  Year-end closing is almost over BUT only a week left and it's month-end closing again.  Sometimes I really wonder if i'm at the correct field.  I'm good at what i'm doing, I do enjoy it, but sometimes, really... it's just so tiring and stressful!  But then again, what job isn't? :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8422184886108757837?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8422184886108757837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8422184886108757837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8422184886108757837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8422184886108757837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2011/01/raisin-bread.html' title='Raisin Bread'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3402453874871243867</id><published>2010-08-30T18:31:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T18:32:53.801+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sacrifices and stuff</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Some things are just not worth fighting for.  Probably because there will come a time when you will realize that just so you could get what you want and be happy, you'll have to fight the whole world for it and isn't that saying something?  Maybe it is not meant to be yours in the first place so why push it?  Yes, some people would urge you to go on and fight for what you want, but some rational part of you would say if it's for you, then why would you have to go through all that hearthache and pain?  And what if there are other people involved?  What if in the process you could hurt some people, is it worth it?  In the end, will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror and honestly say that you're happy?  I can't.  I don't know.  I'm not a goody-goody type of person.  But I do know that I can't step on somebody else's toes just so I can be happy.  I'd rather sacrifice my own happiness, my own dreams than hurt someone else.  I'm not being self-righteous here, i'm just not wired that way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3402453874871243867?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3402453874871243867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3402453874871243867' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3402453874871243867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3402453874871243867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/08/sacrifices-and-stuff.html' title='Sacrifices and stuff'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-2862379066887418093</id><published>2010-05-24T13:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T13:49:52.465+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nice read :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/S_oTVBhGDaI/AAAAAAAAAHo/iVQSMCJVp3A/s1600/ATT00001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474709548927684002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 373px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/S_oTVBhGDaI/AAAAAAAAAHo/iVQSMCJVp3A/s320/ATT00001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-2862379066887418093?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/2862379066887418093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=2862379066887418093' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2862379066887418093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2862379066887418093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/05/nice-read.html' title='Nice read :)'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/S_oTVBhGDaI/AAAAAAAAAHo/iVQSMCJVp3A/s72-c/ATT00001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6527267006018252849</id><published>2010-05-12T22:11:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T08:14:37.503+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank you</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Dear Lolo Dinong and Lola Cely,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Thank you... thank you for making me see that the words "to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part" can still come true. For making me see that love can last and that people can really grow old together and keep the love intact.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Lola, thank you. Thank you for taking care of Lolo until his last breath even if you yourself are very tired. Thank you for staying with him through the good times and the bad, for loving him inspite of his faults, for making him happy until the very end. For holding his hand even in the wee hours of the morning. I remember when I stayed with you for a couple of nights, we have to wake up very early in the morning because Lolo had to take his meds then afterwards, he can't sleep anymore. He was singing Monalisa, and you were like, "Nako, eto na naman tayo kay Monalisa", then he just smiled at you... I really felt good that time. I thought, this, this is love, it can happen pala talaga. I can't imagine the pain you are going through right now but I hope that you do know that we are here and we will take care of you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Lolo, thank you. I don't even know where to begin, we owe so much from you. You are a really good man. You don't say much, but we can feel your love through the things you do and not do. I have a lot of things to thank you for: welcoming us into your home and taking care of us when we were kids; accepting us and loving us even if you did not approve of Mama and Papa's early marriage; forgiving Papa of his faults and for loving him. And for Mama, thank you for her. Not even once did you make us feel unwanted because we have taken your favorite daughter from you so early. But most of all, thank you for teaching us to have faith...for showing us that all things are possible, you just have to have faith. In your last days, even if it hurts so much, not even once did we hear you question God why he gave you that kind of sickness, you just accepted and respected His will. When I last saw you before we left for home, I was looking at you and secretly I was scared. Somehow I had a feeling that our time with you is about to end, I kind of felt that it's just a matter of days. One time I prayed, "Lord, kahit ano po, kahit anong decision nyo... basta po wala na lang pain, basta po hindi na lang sya mahihirapan, okay na po... sige Lord, okay na po..", I thought it was really okay, hindi pala ganon kadali. It isn't easy to just let go. But we will be okay, Lo. You need not worry about us anymore. Now you are in a place where there is no more pain, you are at peace and happy. You are with your creator now. I love you, Lo. Goodbye for now, till we meet again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Love,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Jen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P.S. this is for my Lolo Dinong and Lola Cely...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-602be1b754c6a594" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v20.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D602be1b754c6a594%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329916837%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D79275917A918E618DAC40A5188B8308EFA15A7BB.31D6FC08752058158C4DF3314B0F62ABF2D1FC82%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D602be1b754c6a594%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DOTvXdXW9mL08ETK3rKPICQqGQ8g&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v20.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D602be1b754c6a594%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329916837%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D79275917A918E618DAC40A5188B8308EFA15A7BB.31D6FC08752058158C4DF3314B0F62ABF2D1FC82%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D602be1b754c6a594%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DOTvXdXW9mL08ETK3rKPICQqGQ8g&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6527267006018252849?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6527267006018252849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6527267006018252849' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6527267006018252849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6527267006018252849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/05/thank-you.html' title='Thank you'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6124564372511506857</id><published>2010-03-29T14:37:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T14:42:15.857+08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Answered Prayer</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Last Saturday, my maternal grandparents finally came home after two long years of waiting. They used to come home every year, usually spending Canada’s winter season here. But after they went back to Canada on January 2008, Lolo Dinong was diagnosed with prostate cancer. A series of tests and treatments followed, preventing them from coming home to the Philippines. There were several instances that they almost but something always comes up, a new lump is found, or a treatment has been scheduled, or my Lolo was simply too weak to make the trip. The worries we had is coupled with fear that we won’t be able to see him again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Then a few weeks ago, Lola Cely called to say that they just might come home, but it is yet to be confirmed. Until the last few days before their scheduled arrival we still aren’t sure that they will be able to make the trip home. Three days before their departure, Lolo underwent a radiation treatment that made him feel so weak and they almost cancelled their flight. Good thing that the day before, he felt better and they decided to go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Saturday morning, we were at the airport at around 8 AM because Tita Des said that their flight from Hong Kong will be coming in at 9:55 AM, it’s not so obvious that we’re excited right? But then, the flight was delayed and it arrived at 11:24 AM. After an hour, we still can’t see them, you can just imagine the agitation and worry that we were feeling then, not knowing what happened to them. We keep on asking the information and all they can tell us is that there were a lot of passengers because four flights came in at the same time. Around 12:45 AM, they finally went out. Of course, the crying session started. We can’t help it, the moment we saw them the tears just came. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;We all went to Antipolo afterwards and stayed there for the whole weekend. We had prawns, crabs, lechon, and a lot of deserts to celebrate their homecoming. The weekend was full of laughter and bonding moments. Lolo even stayed up for an hour to chat and mingle with us. He even threw in a couple of jokes at Lola, which Lola gamely took because she said that it’s very rare that Lolo would laugh these days. And Lolo, the ever generous one, gave all of us money because he said that he wasn’t able to buy pasalubongs for us. I promised myself that I won’t ever touch the money he gave me, I’ll just keep it as a remembrance. Plus, he told me that I’ve grown beautiful after losing all that weight, LOL! :D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It was a happy moment for us. But somehow underneath all the laughter and teasing, you know that all of us were sad. Seeing Lolo so weak, always needing Lola at his side, it hurts. Knowing that he won’t be able to do the things he used to do, like go to church every morning, going off to the market to buy anything and everything for the grandchildren, sweep the outside of the house, go over the railings at back garden just so Lola won’t see him going out again (LOL!), it’s disheartening. Then yesterday, when each of us were saying goodbye because we’re going home, he held my hand and said “magi-ingat ka, at sana makahanap ka ng mabuting tao na makaka-tuwang sa buhay”, I just joked “Lolo, pati ba naman ikaw nam-mressure?”, but inside I was secretly afraid because I felt that he was sort of saying goodbye. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;We are all currently arranging our schedules so we can spend as much time as we can with our grandparents. We want to ensure that their stay here will be a happy one. They will only be here a month and we don’t really know what is going to happen in that month. We know that it’s just a matter of time before our beloved Lolo will be gone from us, we can see it and we can feel it so there really is no use denying it. Our only prayer, that he be able to come home before he join the Lord has been granted and we would always, always, always be thankful for that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6124564372511506857?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6124564372511506857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6124564372511506857' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6124564372511506857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6124564372511506857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/03/answered-prayer.html' title='An Answered Prayer'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-1442960209543109259</id><published>2010-03-09T21:51:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T22:07:25.588+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank you, but...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;There comes a time when you ask yourself if all the energy and dedication that you give your job is worth it.  All the late nights, the headaches, trying to meet your customers' impossible expectations, the time you don't spend with your family and friends, all of it.  When you feel that you've given your job almost everything that you have but somehow for some it still not enough, doesn't it makes you want to cry?  And then scream, "What do you want, blood??".  Yes, you say that you recognize all our efforts and everything, you say thank you and such.  But sometimes, words are just not enough.  You have to make us know that you really appreciate us, the things we do for you by giving us something in return also.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'm crying right now because I feel unappreciated and sad.  Some will say that it's just money but somehow it really is not.  It is a way of showing your appreciation and thanks and respect for the people who works for you.  A way of saying that you value them by giving them what is due them.  I wasn't really expecting much really, and yet i'm still disappointed.  What does it say now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Maybe it really is time to re-evaluate things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-1442960209543109259?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/1442960209543109259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=1442960209543109259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1442960209543109259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1442960209543109259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/03/thank-you-but.html' title='Thank you, but...'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-7349230982910210276</id><published>2010-03-02T14:56:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T15:06:07.800+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Huh?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Why do some people don't just say what they want to say? Dinadaan sa pa-cute at pagpapansin. It gets irritating sometimes and it also confuses the other person kung ano ba talaga ang gusto nung isa. Sana naman di ba, sabihin na lang... para malinaw lang, para klaro.  Ang weird kasi, and so i'd also stop assuming.  It's not a good habit.  Parang masyado kong feeling, hehe!  :P  Kung puede lang tanungin ng "Ano ba ang problema mo?", kaso I don't want to be rude naman.  Suplada na nga eh, rude pa.  :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Haay, basta.  Sana magsalita na lang di ba? :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-7349230982910210276?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/7349230982910210276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=7349230982910210276' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7349230982910210276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7349230982910210276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/03/huh.html' title='Huh?'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-4095315436565754287</id><published>2010-02-26T08:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T08:42:19.730+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Really?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;A conversation I had this morning:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;(Looking at the television)&lt;/em&gt; Wow, Panagbenga!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Guy: Tiga-Baguio ka ba?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Me: No, favorite place ko lang talaga sya.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Guy: So, pag kinasal ka duon?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Me: Hmm, puede!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Guy: Invite mo ko ha. &lt;em&gt;Pauses&lt;/em&gt;. Kelan kaya yun?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Me: Sige, dumagdag ka pa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Guy: Pero hindi nga, di mo ba plano?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Me: Eh di ba di naman pina-plano yun? Kasi if you plan it tapos di matupad, made-depress ka lang, mas-stress.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Guy: Ah, ibig sabihin gusto mo na magka-boyfriend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Me: Ha?!? Bakit?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Guy: Kasi nabasa ko yun, pag ang babae daw tinanong mo kung may plano na magka-boyfriend or magpa-kasal tapos ang sinagot sa'yo wala kasi made-depress lang, subconsciously daw gusto na magka-boyfriend or mag-asawa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Me: Ganon? Talaga lang ha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Guy: Oo, ganon daw yun. Parang ayaw lang aminin sa sarili, either ang concentration nasa career or mataas ang standards.  Ganon daw yun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Me: Sige, sabi mo eh.  Bahala ka.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So now, ano subconscious, gusto mo na ba magka-boyfriend???  :P&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Subconscious: Di din.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hahahaha!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-4095315436565754287?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/4095315436565754287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=4095315436565754287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4095315436565754287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4095315436565754287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/really.html' title='Really?'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-7866091239784530753</id><published>2010-02-25T12:56:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T14:04:28.204+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My 27th</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I’ll be turning a year older in a few days and I’m kind of looking forward to it, to my birthday I mean. Of course, getting older makes me realize/think about some things that I feel I should have done or doing already or things I should have accomplished and haven’t, but for some reason, the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/28-before-28th.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;cloud of sadness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; I’ve felt a few weeks ago has somehow lifted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back, the past year has been pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I was able to clear up some of my debts. Which really feels good! Growing up, I’ve been too careless with my finances which resulted to me accumulating quite a load of debts but I was finally able to clear most of them last year. It feels good not having to worry so much about where to get the money to pay your bills. Now I’m really trying to be more disciplined when it comes to my finances. And this leads to number 2…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;2. I now have savings too! And that my friends, feels better than number 1! It may not be a lot, but at least I’m starting to have savings! :D &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I’ve got a new sport. Lately, I’ve been quite addicted to running. Though I’ve only joined two marathons (1st is 3KM, 2nd is 5KM), I’m liking it a lot. I run on the treadmill (and to think that I was scared of that machine before!) for an average of 30minutes when I’m at the gym. Then my office friends and I have one running day in a week, sometimes when things are not so toxic, we run twice a week. I’m also planning to join a marathon every month. My goal is to run a half marathon by the end of the year (hopefully with Piolo during the next Timex run!). Oh, and I’ve joined the badminton competition for our sports fest here at the office, although I have no idea how to play it! :P&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442041710799452994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/S4YEGlEPe0I/AAAAAAAAAHI/cub-4NGB3Q4/s320/run.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I gained new friends. Isn’t that the most amazing thing? I’m not so friendly and that’s something that my friends and the people who knows me can attest to, so it’s really great when I get to know new people and eventually be friends with them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442042020678629842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/S4YEYndMedI/AAAAAAAAAHY/6b6mZcs6HbE/s320/friends.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I finally lost those unwanted pounds! Honestly, this is the biggest thing that happened to me the past year. I started dieting and going to the gym on Feb2009 and after sooo many years of fighting a constant battle with my weight, I finally won. I’ve lost a total of 54 lbs. in one year and it really feels good. What it did to my confidence and health are amazing. I feel lighter, I don’t have to catch my breath after taking just a few flight of stairs, I can do sports (yey!), I don’t hear myself doing weird sounds when I sleep at night. I don’t feel so self-conscious when there are a lot of people, I don’t feel so frustrated when I try on clothes. I feel good about myself, inside and out. And I hope that I’ll be able to maintain this. :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442042304396488802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 178px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/S4YEpIYzcGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/Lx3sByQXwqQ/s320/weight.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. And I almost forgot, one of the highlights of my year... finally seeing Piolo Pascual in person. 'Nuff said. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now, what will happen on my 28th? Not sure yet, but I think I’ve become more optimistic about it. Hmm, most of the predictions, by my friends and horoscope alike, says that I’ll fall in love this year. Well, we’ll see. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-7866091239784530753?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/7866091239784530753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=7866091239784530753' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7866091239784530753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7866091239784530753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-27th.html' title='My 27th'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/S4YEGlEPe0I/AAAAAAAAAHI/cub-4NGB3Q4/s72-c/run.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-4919390262224713161</id><published>2010-02-25T07:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T07:49:26.442+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not bad... :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/S4W66TJp_sI/AAAAAAAAAG4/-xhFtlHSqO8/s1600-h/Century+Tuna+Results.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441961235483066050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 345px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 355px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/S4W66TJp_sI/AAAAAAAAAG4/-xhFtlHSqO8/s320/Century+Tuna+Results.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-4919390262224713161?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/4919390262224713161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=4919390262224713161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4919390262224713161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4919390262224713161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/not-bad.html' title='Not bad... :)'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/S4W66TJp_sI/AAAAAAAAAG4/-xhFtlHSqO8/s72-c/Century+Tuna+Results.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-7015576186663238512</id><published>2010-02-14T09:40:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T10:11:31.241+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 14</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There is the kiss of welcome and of parting, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the long, lingering, loving, present one; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the stolen, or the mutual one;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the kiss of love, of joy, and of sorrow;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the seal of promise and receipt of fulfillment.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- Thomas C. Haliburotn (1796-1865)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-7015576186663238512?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/7015576186663238512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=7015576186663238512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7015576186663238512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7015576186663238512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-14.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 14'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-7961349129775084388</id><published>2010-02-13T03:35:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T03:35:38.970+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 13</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;How did it happen that their lips came together? How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill? A kiss, and all was said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;- Victor Hugo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-7961349129775084388?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/7961349129775084388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=7961349129775084388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7961349129775084388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7961349129775084388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-13.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 13'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-1306354596302088621</id><published>2010-02-12T09:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T09:39:41.375+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 12</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;For twas not into my ear you whispered&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;But into my heart &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Twas not my lips you kissed &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;But my soul...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;- Judy Garland&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-1306354596302088621?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/1306354596302088621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=1306354596302088621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1306354596302088621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1306354596302088621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-12.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 12'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-1267382540378208954</id><published>2010-02-11T07:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T07:52:12.686+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 11</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;The kiss, a sweet discovery of oneself after a long search.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;- Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-1267382540378208954?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/1267382540378208954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=1267382540378208954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1267382540378208954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1267382540378208954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-11.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 11'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3848226427623561173</id><published>2010-02-10T08:20:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T08:20:47.036+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 10</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;A kiss is like a book, it can tell you a thousand words, but in order to understand the true meaning of it you have to be willing to read between the lines.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;- Source Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3848226427623561173?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3848226427623561173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3848226427623561173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3848226427623561173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3848226427623561173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-10.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 10'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6700687125675264221</id><published>2010-02-09T08:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T08:29:36.313+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 9</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- Ingrid Bergman&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6700687125675264221?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6700687125675264221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6700687125675264221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6700687125675264221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6700687125675264221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-9.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 9'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-1646596494780873674</id><published>2010-02-08T08:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T08:15:19.644+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 8</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Kissing is like drinking salted water.  You drink, and your thirst increases.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;- Chinese Proverb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-1646596494780873674?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/1646596494780873674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=1646596494780873674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1646596494780873674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1646596494780873674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-8.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 8'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6129456981962229274</id><published>2010-02-07T08:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T08:14:40.803+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 7</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;At the first kiss I felt something melt inside me that hurt in an exquisite way. All my longings, all my dreams and sweet anguish, all the secrets that slept deep within me came awake, everything was transformed and enchanted, everything made sense.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Hermann Hesse&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6129456981962229274?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6129456981962229274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6129456981962229274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6129456981962229274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6129456981962229274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-7.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 7'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6472567059147989897</id><published>2010-02-06T10:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T10:12:16.939+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 6</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Is not a kiss the very autograph of love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;- Henry Finck&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6472567059147989897?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6472567059147989897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6472567059147989897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6472567059147989897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6472567059147989897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-6.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 6'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-1216945828787421275</id><published>2010-02-05T10:08:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T10:10:31.570+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 5</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It is the passion that is in a kiss that gives to it its sweetness; it is the affection in a kiss that sanctifies it. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- Christian Nevell Bovee&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-1216945828787421275?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/1216945828787421275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=1216945828787421275' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1216945828787421275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1216945828787421275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-5.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 5'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3755778086205070915</id><published>2010-02-04T15:27:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T15:30:10.225+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 4</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kissing is a means of getting two people so close together that they can't see anything wrong with each other.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- Rene Yasenek&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3755778086205070915?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3755778086205070915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3755778086205070915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3755778086205070915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3755778086205070915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-4.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 4'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3091807501930684971</id><published>2010-02-03T08:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T08:06:13.822+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Oliver Wendell Holmes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3091807501930684971?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3091807501930684971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3091807501930684971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3091807501930684971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3091807501930684971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-3.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 3'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6689874021093701264</id><published>2010-02-02T07:57:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T07:59:02.779+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kiss: The anatomical juxtaposition of two orbicularis oris muscles in a state of contraction.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- Henry Gibbons&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6689874021093701264?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6689874021093701264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6689874021093701264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6689874021093701264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6689874021093701264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-2.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 2'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-1287045673126731039</id><published>2010-02-01T18:38:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T18:43:00.414+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Day 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;The decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story. It changes the relationship of two people much more strongly than even the final surrender; because this kiss already has within it that surrender.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;- Emil Ludwig&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-1287045673126731039?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/1287045673126731039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=1287045673126731039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1287045673126731039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1287045673126731039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-day-1.html' title='14 Days To Love: Day 1'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3034515636591327318</id><published>2010-02-01T18:35:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T18:37:52.212+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love: Introduction</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So…it’s that time of the year again.  When all the decorations are screaming with hearts and arrows and cupids and other red stuff that will remind the people that it’s time for the most commercialized occasion of the year again – Valentine’s Day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it also means that it’s time for the 14 Days To Love again! :)  And looks like the topic is all about kisses as per &lt;a href="http://dancing-teacosy.blogspot.com/2010/01/14-days-to-love-its-in-kiss.html"&gt;Jela’s&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://oneminutebeforedawn.blogspot.com/2010/01/prelude-to-kiss-14-days-to-love.html"&gt;Mark’s&lt;/a&gt; prelude entries… so why not join the fun?  I was initially going to do quotes about love but then when Jela mentioned during Friday night dinner that she was planning to do most romantic kisses for her 14 days to love, I felt intimidated because mine was so no-brainer, hahaha!  Mine is still a no-brainer but I’ve decided to be more specific, I’m going to do kissing quotes for my 14 days to love, sorry if that’s  the only thing I can do for this year, hopefully I’ll get a chance to redeem myself next year.  Enjoy! :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3034515636591327318?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3034515636591327318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3034515636591327318' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3034515636591327318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3034515636591327318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/14-days-to-love-introduction.html' title='14 Days To Love: Introduction'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-29413182002272841</id><published>2010-02-01T17:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T17:55:50.886+08:00</updated><title type='text'>28 before the 28th</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It’s 28 days before my 28th birthday and I’m starting to get the blues.  Yes, I know that age is just a number but still, that thinking won’t help you accept the fact that you’re getting old, at least not that much.  I used to get excited whenever the calendar turns to February, because it means that it won’t be too long before my birthday arrives.  But for the past couple of years, as soon as the calendar is turned to January, it’s like a very huge cloud slowly moves to cover the sun and I’m starting to feel, well, sad.  I hope this goes away soon, because I want to celebrate my birthday not just for the sake of celebrating but because I really feel like &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;celebrating.  I want to feel happy on my birthday, it’s my special day, for goodness’ sake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Funny, how just a few of days ago I was comforting someone who's feeling sad on his birthday because he feels like he's getting too old and he still has so much to accomplish and now i'm the one who needs comforting.  Life, sometimes you can't help but be amused. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-29413182002272841?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/29413182002272841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=29413182002272841' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/29413182002272841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/29413182002272841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/02/28-before-28th.html' title='28 before the 28th'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5195808400806800149</id><published>2010-01-22T16:10:00.016+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T17:31:28.344+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mad</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;When you know that you're just setting yourself up for a heartache, will you still pursue it? When you know that what you have are just broken dreams and useless yearnings, what do you do? Yes, he makes you smile, he makes you laugh... you enjoy spending time with him, he makes you feel good. But at the end of the day, you know, without an iota of doubt, that nothing will ever come out of it. Isn't it being masochistic? But how do you stop? How do you stop thinking about him, how do you stop yourself from falling an inch everyday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I was doing fine, I was okay with my being alone and single. Until he came along. Suddenly, i'm feeling things that I know I shouldn't because it's just not right. Just like that, my world is slowly turning upside down. I know that if I continue this, i'm only setting myself up for a major heartache and then it'll be hard to pick up the pieces and mend myself again. But what do I do? How do I stop? It's like he's awakened a part of me that has been asleep for a long time. I've never felt like this for anyone for really a long time, as in this strong. To be fair to the guy, he's not doing anything at all. He's not even aware of what i'm going through, and he really should not know. He's just being himself. He's just being his cute, lovable, nice, thoughtful self.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;The thing is, he makes me happy. He makes me happy without his even knowing it. He makes me happy with the simple things that he does, the simple things he says. And i've never been happy for quite sometime, not this kind of happy, the love-or-something-like-that happy. He can make me smile even when i'm in a really bad mood. He makes me feel special. I know that he does not do it consciously, he's just really like that and that is one of the things that I really like about him. It's like, i've found a really good friend but the problem is I want him to be more that my friend but can't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I don't know what will happen. I don't know if I will fall all the way in love with him. As of this moment, I really don't know. I just hope that I won't do anything stupid. I'm praying I won't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Note to friends: Please don't ask about this, i'll sort this out somehow. Thank you. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5195808400806800149?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5195808400806800149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5195808400806800149' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5195808400806800149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5195808400806800149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2010/01/mad.html' title='Mad'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-420696545759861769</id><published>2009-11-27T10:17:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T10:36:27.977+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The same old question</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'm just curious, don't people get tired of asking the same question and getting the same answer every time? If i'll have a penny for every time i'll get asked of when do I plan on having a boyfriend or every time i'll get a comment regarding my single status, I swear I could already go shopping and not think about how much i'm spending!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Seriously, why do people seem so "concerned" about the relationship status of other people, especially those of single ones? Can't they understand that we have reasons for staying single? Or that maybe, we also want to be in relationship only we haven't found the one to take the plunge with? It's irritating (for me) and for some who really wants to be with someone, that question or comment could be quite painful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;This is the reason why sometimes i'm hesitant to attend gatherings, be it family or friends, because I know that somehow this topic will come up and most of the time, I really just don't want to answer. My common response these days is just a smile and then i'll change the topic. But when i'm in a bad mood and someone will ask why i'm single or if I don't have plans to change that, I answer, "Eh sa wala eh, alangan naman pilitin ko?", sabay irap. Hehehe!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Let me say this again. I'm happy i'm single. To be completely honest there comes a time when you long to be with someone and yes, it does get lonely sometimes, but that does not happen all the time for me. I'm still enjoying my life as a single woman and I really don't think I want to change that anytime soon. Maybe, who knows my time is coming but until then, will you please let me be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-420696545759861769?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/420696545759861769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=420696545759861769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/420696545759861769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/420696545759861769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/11/same-old-question.html' title='The same old question'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3693554865410932530</id><published>2009-11-25T16:13:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T16:35:54.661+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Emotions Galore</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I've been too emotional lately, the simplest things could really get to me.  I don't know why this is.  I don't know if this is brought about by my changing teams at work, which could mean i'm stressed with all the turnover stuff, or maybe it's more of i'm really sad because i'll be leaving the team that has been home to me for the past twenty-eight months, or it could also be that i'm really scared of my new process.  Or to simplify things, i'm scared of change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;This could also be because of another thing which I don't want to share, so let's just leave it at that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I don't really know, even this post does not make any sense to me.  All I know is that i'm an emotional wreck and it's not good.  I can't even pinpoint the reason behind this emotional mess i'm in.  It's sad and frustrating.  I want to cry, badly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;By the way, &lt;a href="http://www.oneminutebeforedawn.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mark&lt;/a&gt;, I really like this line: &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;"The heart will only spill what it contains, and it can only contain so much."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3693554865410932530?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3693554865410932530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3693554865410932530' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3693554865410932530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3693554865410932530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/11/emotions-galore.html' title='Emotions Galore'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-9057420606145933676</id><published>2009-11-07T12:45:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T21:29:15.047+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crossing The Lines</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Oh I can’t begin to tell you just how stressful the past week has been!  I was doing okay then all of a sudden I was fighting back emotions that I don’t think I should feel.  Don’t you just hate it when you think that you don’t have the right to feel what you’re feeling so you fight it back?  It’s like you don’t have the freedom with your emotions.  When feeling becomes a battle between the mind and the heart, it can be so tiring.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;When do you say enough to a person who is undergoing a difficult time in his life?  You know that what they're going through is hard but is that enough excuse to fall behind on their other responsibilities?  If you have personal problems, will you let it affect your work to the point where your other co-workers are also being affected?  Won't you feel it when you are also dragging the team down because of what you are going through personally?  I'm having a hard time dealing with this situation because whenever I would get annoyed with this person, I would feel guilty immediately after because I know that this person has a big, complicated problem.  I can't express what i'm really feeling out of sensitivity to what the other person is feeling and I also don't want to talk with this person regarding our "situation" because i'm afraid that I might say something that might hurt.  So in the end, I get frustrated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Add to that that i'm crushing on someone who I don't think I should be crushing on because, well, he's married.  And I don't want to dwell on this one because I know that the less I think of him the better.  I wouldn't get anything out of this but guilt and frustration and hurt, so there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So. There.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-9057420606145933676?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/9057420606145933676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=9057420606145933676' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9057420606145933676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9057420606145933676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/11/crossing-lines.html' title='Crossing The Lines'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5272788415910822580</id><published>2009-11-04T13:16:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T13:19:09.287+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing Blogging</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I miss blogging, really I do!  But ironically, I can't find any worthwhile topic to write about.  Not that everything I wrote before is worthwhile.  I have a lot of unfinished thoughts in my head, but the keyword there is &lt;em&gt;unfinished&lt;/em&gt;.  Haaay, wish I could write again.  It seems that all my energy is being spent at the gym, at least i'm losing weight.  Harharhar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I'm coming back soon, I promise.  At least, I hope so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5272788415910822580?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5272788415910822580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5272788415910822580' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5272788415910822580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5272788415910822580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/11/missing-blogging.html' title='Missing Blogging'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-374956950732176841</id><published>2009-09-26T11:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T11:26:49.888+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Updates</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Hmmm, it's been a while since I last blogged and so I wonder what's going on with me that I haven't had the time to blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Let's see, work is not really that demanding these days.  Honestly work is pretty boring at this time (oops, be careful what you wish for!), lots of admin stuff to do which I don't really like doing.  I'd rather you have me do reports or reconcilations than do a procedural documentation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Home is okay.  There are some things that's going on but nothing really big.  At least i'm praying that everything's gonna turn out fine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;National Bookstore just had a month-long sale and I could say that I really took advantage of that.  I enjoyed book-shopping so much that i've added a &lt;em&gt;teeny&lt;/em&gt; bunch of books on my unread stack again.  I swear one of these days those TBR books are just gonna all jump on me and beat me to death while I sleep as payment for my ignoring them.  Better move them to another place other than the top of my bed just to be safe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I joined twitter!  And became a follower of some friends, Paolo Coelho, David Cook, Lea Salonga, Jim Paredes, KC Concepcion and most recently Kris Aquino!  Oh, the company I keep!  Hahaha!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Haven't been looking at wedding stuff nowadays, my friend decided to hire a full-time coordinator so nothing much for me to do really except wait for her to ask if she needs help.  Been to another friend's wedding last week and I say that weddings are really magical.  It makes you forget about the other things that are not so good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I've decided to stay put with my job for the meantime.  I don't know what happened but it seems that God is telling me to be a bit more patient.  Who knows, maybe things would really be much better if I stay where I am right now.  I truly hope so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-374956950732176841?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/374956950732176841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=374956950732176841' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/374956950732176841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/374956950732176841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/09/updates.html' title='Updates'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-9041464112558583935</id><published>2009-09-23T13:30:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T11:07:48.865+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2010 Countdown Challenge</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Been visiting a lot of book blogs lately and i've come accross this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1morechapter.com/countdown/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;challenge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;. I've decided to give it a try because it looks like fun. Let's see if I can do this. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384531707809769906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SrmzD03UKbI/AAAAAAAAAGo/w_gxLMfb99A/s320/countdown10small.png" border="0" /&gt;The rules:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;1. The goal of this challenge is to read the number of books first published in a given year that corresponds to the last digit of each year in the 2000s — 10 books from 2010, 9 books from 2009, 8 books from 2008, etc. The total number of books required, therefore, is 55.&lt;br /&gt;2. This challenge lasts from 9/9/09 through 10/10/10.&lt;br /&gt;3. Crossovers with other challenges are allowed and your lists may change at any time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;And my list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;2010&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;br /&gt;6.&lt;br /&gt;7.&lt;br /&gt;8.&lt;br /&gt;9.&lt;br /&gt;10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;br /&gt;6.&lt;br /&gt;7.&lt;br /&gt;8.&lt;br /&gt;9.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;1. The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen by Syrie James&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;br /&gt;6.&lt;br /&gt;7.&lt;br /&gt;8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;2007&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;br /&gt;6.&lt;br /&gt;7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;2006&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;br /&gt;6.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;2005&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;2004&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;2003&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;2002&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;2001&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-9041464112558583935?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/9041464112558583935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=9041464112558583935' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9041464112558583935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9041464112558583935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/09/2010-countdown-challenge.html' title='2010 Countdown Challenge'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SrmzD03UKbI/AAAAAAAAAGo/w_gxLMfb99A/s72-c/countdown10small.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-2904863057927638528</id><published>2009-08-20T22:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T22:26:14.386+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love always finds a way... but will it ever find its way to me?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-2904863057927638528?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/2904863057927638528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=2904863057927638528' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2904863057927638528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2904863057927638528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/08/love-always-finds-way.html' title=''/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6119793030254667709</id><published>2009-08-20T08:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T08:36:38.622+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmm, surprise, surprise...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Watched And I Love You So with my teammates last night, it's the new Star Cinema movie starring Bea Alonzo, Sam Milby and Derek Ramsey.  Boy, was it a surprise!  Because honestly I just wanted to see the movie because I thought it was nice and also because i'm a huge Star Cinema fan but I never expected that I would love it and I &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; do!  The storyline is good, their lines speak right to your heart, it will make you laugh, it will make you cry, and surprisingly, it made me drool a bit (okay, quite a lot) for Sam!  My friend and I was talking and we both noticed how Sam really, as in really, looked good in this movie!  I'm a huge Piolo fan, i'm in love with the guy (or so I think), but seeing Sam in that movie, WOW! :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I'm not a good movie reviewer, no, i'm not a good reviewer period.  You just have to take my word for it - one of the best movies Star Cinema has produced.  Well, that is if you're also into this kind of thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6119793030254667709?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6119793030254667709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6119793030254667709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6119793030254667709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6119793030254667709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/08/hmm-surprise-surprise.html' title='Hmm, surprise, surprise...'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-2271728604256713003</id><published>2009-08-12T21:37:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T21:44:02.934+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random, random, random</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Because i'm feeling lazy but need somewhere to place these thoughts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I want some Toffee Nut Latte from Starbucks, wish it is December already.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'm soooo tired from today.  As in!  So much work, so little time!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So excited to see The Time Traveler's Wife... hmm, still don't know who i'll watch it with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I need new clothes.  My old ones are kind of loose already.  Naks, losing weight! :P (&lt;em&gt;finally, after 17 years!&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I want to go home already... still have to go to the gym tomorrow morning.  &lt;em&gt;I really have to go to the gym tomorrow.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I wonder if I can do the RPM Challege class, if it's within my cycling capacity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I think I really need a new pair of glasses.  The one I have right now is kind of blurry already.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I kind of used the word "already" too much, haven't I?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Can't wait for Friday!!!  Aside from it simply being Friday, i'm having dinner with friends!  Now, ain't that nice? :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-2271728604256713003?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/2271728604256713003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=2271728604256713003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2271728604256713003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2271728604256713003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/08/random-random-random.html' title='Random, random, random'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6714870753898395102</id><published>2009-08-01T23:12:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T23:25:53.529+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Goodbye</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Got a text message from a friend earlier telling me that ex-President Aquino has died.  I immediately turned on the TV and there it was, all TV stations seems to be having a special ongoing already.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Doubts may be put against her presidency but there's no question as to her sincerity and love for her country and her people.  For that alone, she has earned my respect.  I must admit, watching all those TV specials throughout the whole day made me see just how truly remarkable a person she is.  Her strength, her perseverance, her heart, and most especially her faith.  If only our politicians today has half of her heart, sincerity, and fear of God, our country would be in a better place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Thank you President Aquino.  Thank you for fighting for and with your people.  Thank you for being a mother more than being a politician.  You have served your purpose here on earth and now you are finally at peace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6714870753898395102?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6714870753898395102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6714870753898395102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6714870753898395102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6714870753898395102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/08/goodbye.html' title='A Goodbye'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-1159421982257205344</id><published>2009-07-21T13:24:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T13:39:07.242+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Uncertain</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I don't know which scares me most...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;On dreams&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;G&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;iving up because I got tired of reaching for it after numerous failed attempts or giving up because I simply lost faith that someday He will give me what I wanted the most.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;On love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Getting hurt because I loved either returned or not or getting hurt because I can't love at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;On the rest of my life&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;That this is all there is to it because this is really all there is to it or this is all there is to it because i'm too scared to take risks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-1159421982257205344?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/1159421982257205344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=1159421982257205344' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1159421982257205344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1159421982257205344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/07/uncertain.html' title='Uncertain'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6254275198943514323</id><published>2009-07-11T20:13:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:18:36.064+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Am I a bad person because I don't like the person they like?  Is it just me who has a problem or that other person really have a problem?  We all used to not like that other person but now they seem to be friends with that other person.  And I can't help but feel that it is only who's got issues.  But I know deep inside of me that I don't.  I've had enough encounters with that other person to make me feel this way.  Worst, I sometimes get the feeling that they also want me to like that other person but I can't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Aaargh!  I hate second guessing myself or what I feel!  I really hate it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6254275198943514323?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6254275198943514323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6254275198943514323' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6254275198943514323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6254275198943514323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/07/am-i.html' title='Am I?'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5417363542752922554</id><published>2009-07-08T12:56:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T13:05:45.550+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mornings like this...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I miss having mornings like this...just sittting at Starbucks with a book in my hand, sipping coffee and eating a cookie. I wish I could have more of these... :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355950579850646930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SlQorOKLlZI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Z0hBP5IM5uI/s320/Image007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5417363542752922554?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5417363542752922554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5417363542752922554' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5417363542752922554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5417363542752922554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/07/mornings-like-this.html' title='Mornings like this...'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SlQorOKLlZI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Z0hBP5IM5uI/s72-c/Image007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8969627105695663658</id><published>2009-07-02T15:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T16:02:23.399+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On Work</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I got this forwarded email and I thought it was quite a long read, but it was worth every word of it.  By the end of the article, I can't help but agree with the things he said.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On Work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;by Kent Nerburn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often hear people say, "I have to find myself." What they really mean is, "I have to make myself." Life is an endlessly creative experience, and we are making ourselves every moment by every decision we make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is why the work you choose for yourself is so crucial to your sense of value and well-being. No matter how much you might believe that your work is nothing more than what you do to make money, your work makes you who you are, because it is where you put your time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember several years ago when I was intent upon building my reputation as a sculptor. I took a job driving a cab, because, as I told people, "I want some job that I will never confuse with a profession." Yet within six months, I was talking like a cab driver, thinking like a cab&lt;br /&gt;driver, looking at the world through the eyes of a cab driver. My anecdotes came from my job, as did my observations about life. I became embroiled in the personalities and politics of the company for which I worked and developed the habits and rhythms of life that went along with my all-night driving shift. On the days when I did not drive and instead worked on my sculpture, I still carried the consciousness of a cab driver with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether I liked it or not, I was a cab driver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This happens to anyone who takes a job. Even if you hate a job and keep a distance from it, you are defining yourself in opposition to the job by resisting it. By giving the job your time, you are giving it your consciousness. And it will, in turn, fill your life with the reality that it presents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people ignore this fact. They choose a profession because it seems exciting, or because they can make a lot of money, or because it has some prestige in their minds. They commit themselves to their work, but slowly find themselves feeling restless and empty. The time they have to spend on their work begins to hang heavy on their hands, and soon they feel constricted and trapped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They join the legions of humanity who Thoreau said lead lives of quiet desperation - unfulfilled, unhappy and uncertain of what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet the lure of financial security and the fear of the unknown keep them from acting to change their lives, and their best energies are spent creating justifications for staying where they are or inventing activities  outside of work that they hope will provide them with a sense of meaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But these efforts can never be totally successful. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We are what we do, and the more we do it, the more we become it. The only way out is to change our lives or to change our expectations for our lives. And if we lower our expectations we are killing our dreams, and a man without dreams is already half dead.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you need to choose your work carefully. You need to look beyond the external measurements of prestige and money and glamour to see what you will be doing on a day-to-day, hour-to-hour, minute-to-minute basis to see if that is how you want to spend your time. Time may not be the way you measure the value of your work, but it is the way you experience it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you need to do is think of work as "vocation." This word may seem stilted in its tone, but it has a wisdom within it. It comes from the Latin word for calling, which comes from the word for voice. In those meanings it touches on what work really should be. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;t should be something that calls to you as something you want to do, and it should be something that gives voice to who you are and what you want to say to the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So a true vocation calls to you to perform it and it allows your life to speak. This is very different from work, which is just an exchange of labor for money. It is even very different from a profession, which is an area of expertise you have been sanctioned to represent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vocation is something you feel compelled to do, or at least something that fills you with a sense of meaning. It is something you choose because of what it allows you to say with your life, not because of the money it pays you or the way it will make you appear to others. It is, above all else, something that lets you love. When you find a vocation, embrace it with your whole heart. Few people are so lucky. They begin their search for work with an eye to the wrong prize, so when they win, they win something of little value. They gain money or prestige, but they lose their hearts. Eventually their days become nothing more than a commodity that they exchange for money, and they begin to shrivel and die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often think of a man I met on the streets of Cleveland. He was an assembly-line worker in an automobile plant. He said his work was so hateful that he could barely stand to get up in the morning. I asked him why he didn't quit. "I've only got thirteen more years to go to retirement," he answered. And he meant it. His life had so gotten away from him that he was willing to accept a thirteen-year death sentence for his spirit rather than give up the security it earned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I spoke with him I was about twenty. I was young and free; I didn't understand what he was saying at all. It seemed incomprehensible to me that a man could have become so defeated by life that he was willing to let his life die as he held it in his hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I understand too well. Lured by what had seemed like big money at the time, he had chosen a job that didn't offer him any inner satisfaction. He lived a good life, rolling from paycheck to paycheck and getting the car or the boat that he had always dreamed of having. Year by year he  advanced, because businesses reward perseverance. His salary went up, his options for other types of employment went down, and he settled into a routine that financed his life. He married, bought a house, had children, and grew into middle age. The job that had seemed like freedom when he was young became a deadening routine. Year by year he began to hate it. It choked him, but he had no means of escape. He needed its money to live; no job he might change to would pay him as much as he was currently making. His fear for the health and security of his family kept him from Breaking free into a world where all things were possible but no things were paid for, and so he gave in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've only got thirteen more years to retirement" was a prisoner's way of counting the days until the job would release him and pay him for his freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most people's lives are a variation on that theme. So few take the time when they are young to explore the real meaning of the jobs they are taking or to consider the real implications of the occupations to which they are committing their lives. Some have no choice. Without money, without training, with the pressures of life building around them, they choose the best alternative that offers itself. But many others just fail to see clearly. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;They chase false dreams, and fall into traps they could have avoided if they had listened more closely to their hearts when choosing their life's work.  But even if you listen closely to your heart, making the right choice is difficult.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You can't really know what it is you want to do by&lt;br /&gt;thinking about it. You have to do it and see how it fits.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;You have to let the work take you over until it becomes you and you become it; then you have to decide whether to embrace it or abandon it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; And few have the courage to abandon something that defines their security and prosperity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet there is no reason why a person cannot have two, three or more careers in the course of a life. There is no reason why a person can't abandon a job that does not fit anymore and strike out into the unknown for  something that lies closer to the heart. There is risk, there is loss, and there likely will be privation. If you have allowed your job to define your sense of self-worth, there may even be a crisis of identity. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;But no amount of security is worth the suffering of a life lived chained to a routine that has killed all your dreams.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must never forget that to those who hire you, your labor is a commodity. You are paid because you provide a service that is useful. If the service you provide is no longer needed, it doesn't matter how  honorable, how diligent, how committed you have been in your work. If what you can contribute is no longer needed, you are no longer needed and you will be let go. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Even if you've committed your life to the job, you are, at heart, a part of the commercial exchange, and you are valuable only so long as you are a significant contributor to that commercial exchange. It is nothing personal; it's just the nature of economic transaction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So it does not pay to tie yourself to a job that kills your love of life. The job will abandon you if it has to. You can abandon the job if you have to.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man I met in Cleveland may have been laid off the year before he was due to retire. He may have lost his pension because of a legal detail he never knew existed. He may have died on the assembly line while waiting to put a bolt in a fender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once had a professor who dreamed of being a concert pianist. Fearing the possibility of failure, he went into academics where the work was secure and the money was predictable. One day, when I was talking to him about my unhappiness in my graduate studies, he walked over and sat down at his piano. He played a beautiful glisando and then, abruptly, stopped. "Do what is in your heart," he said. "I really only wanted to be a concert pianist. Now I spend every day wondering how good I might have been."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let this be your epitaph at the end of your working life. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Find out what it is that burns in your heart and do it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Choose a vocation, not a job, and you will be at peace. Take a job instead of finding a vocation, and eventually you will find yourself saying, "I've only got thirteen more years to retirement," or "I spend every day wondering how good I might have been."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all owe ourselves better than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The tide recedes but leaves behind bright seashells on the sand. The sun goes down, but gentle warmth still lingers on the land. The music stops, and yet it echoes on in sweet refrains... For every joy that passes, something beautiful remains."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting." - The Alchemist, Paulo Coehlo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8969627105695663658?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8969627105695663658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8969627105695663658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8969627105695663658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8969627105695663658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/07/on-work.html' title='On Work'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-86330565757134492</id><published>2009-06-30T22:59:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T23:17:39.413+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Copycats</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It is said that imitation is the best form of flattery.  But there's a limit, there is always a limit.  There is nothing wrong with getting inspiration or imitating an idea but please, at least infuse them with ideas of your own.  Don't just copy them as is, that's equivalent to stealing.  Plus you don't know how much time and effort was put into the creation of whatever it is that you're copying.  Have some respect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And to you, my dear hypocrite... be careful, i'm close to losing my patience.  I can be kind even when stepped on but don't overdo it because I can also kick your ass.  Even one as big as yours.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-86330565757134492?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/86330565757134492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=86330565757134492' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/86330565757134492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/86330565757134492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/06/copycats.html' title='Copycats'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-2746453864585883723</id><published>2009-06-28T21:49:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T22:06:05.269+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On A Friday Morning</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It was just an ordinary Friday morning at the gym for me, I was almost done doing my cardio exercise when I happen to glance at the other tv screen and saw the headlines: Michael Jackson was dead.  I was surprised, as in.  I texted my high school friend who is a really big fan and asked her if it was true and she said that sadly, yes.  I felt sad.  I was not really a fan, but I liked him.  I like some of his songs, and in spite all the weird things that has happened to him personally, no one could discount the fact that he was a really good artist.  And this happening just before his comeback.  :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I remember reading a book in high school about this guy Ryan White.  He was a young AIDS patient who got his disease via blood transfusion.  One of his requests before he passed away was to meet Michael Jackson personally.  Not only did he meet Michael but they became friends and if I remember it correctly, the song Gone Too Soon was written by Michael for Ryan.  I was really touched by that story and from then I believed that Michael was a really nice guy.  It's just sad that towards the end, all the news that we're hearing about him are not good ones.  But, Michael Jackson is still Michael Jackson and he will always be the King of Pop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Thank you for the music, MJ.  You are finally at peace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Born to amuse, to inspire, to delight&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Here one day, gone one night&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Like a sunset, dying with the rising moon&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gone too soon...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-2746453864585883723?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/2746453864585883723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=2746453864585883723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2746453864585883723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2746453864585883723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/06/on-friday-morning.html' title='On A Friday Morning'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-2383325544816083624</id><published>2009-06-22T12:55:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T13:01:28.168+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't think of a title so... whatever.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Some people have it easy.  When you look at their lives, you'll see that whatever they ask, whatever they want, they get.  I know it's unfair of me to say that.  I don't know half of what they went through just to get where they are now.  I'm happy for them, of course, they worked and prayed hard for whatever they have.  I guess, I'm just jealous because i'm nowhere near where I want to be.  I have no right to say what I just said.  Sometimes I just can't help being a pathetic, jealous bi*ch.  God, sometimes I really do hate myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-2383325544816083624?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/2383325544816083624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=2383325544816083624' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2383325544816083624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2383325544816083624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-cant-think-of-title-so-whatever.html' title='I can&apos;t think of a title so... whatever.'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8012674062083868231</id><published>2009-06-16T20:24:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T20:26:07.961+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eeeek!! I'm so excited!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Time Traveler's Wife on August 14!!!!! Here's the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gu8lYr0kf7g"&gt;trailer&lt;/a&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; it looks so good!!!!  Can't wait! :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8012674062083868231?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8012674062083868231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8012674062083868231' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8012674062083868231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8012674062083868231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/06/eeeek-im-so-excited.html' title='Eeeek!! I&apos;m so excited!'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-4414282920686409417</id><published>2009-06-16T16:13:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T16:16:34.039+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Photographs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Looking at your pictures, seeing your smile again, knowing that you are happy... it makes me glad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I used to love you, you know.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-4414282920686409417?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/4414282920686409417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=4414282920686409417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4414282920686409417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4414282920686409417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/06/photographs.html' title='Photographs'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6132632039801009542</id><published>2009-06-15T19:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T19:19:13.955+08:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Perhaps Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;by John Denver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It exists to give you comfort, it is there to keep you warm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;And in those times of trouble when you are most alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The memory of love will bring you home &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Perhaps love is like a window, perhaps an open door &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It invites you to come closer, it wants to show you more &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;And even if you lose yourself and don't know what to do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The memory of love will see you through &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Love to some is like a cloud, to some as strong as steel &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;For some a way of living, for some a way to feel &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;And some say love is holding on and some say letting go &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;And some say love is everything, and some say they don't know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Perhaps love is like the ocean, full of conflict, full of pain &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Like a fire when it's cold outside, thunder when it rains &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;If I should live forever, and all my dreams come true &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;My memories of love will be of you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Some say love is holding on and some say letting go &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Some say ove is everything and some say they don't know&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps love is like the mountains, full og conflict, full of change &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Like a fire when it's cold outside, thunder when it rains &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;If I should live forever, and all my dreams come true&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My memories of love will be of you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6132632039801009542?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6132632039801009542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6132632039801009542' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6132632039801009542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6132632039801009542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3370338358058477622</id><published>2009-06-11T16:00:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T16:14:04.370+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Chocolatey Conversation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Oh no!!! I can hear them calling me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#3333ff;"&gt;Snickers: Don't you want me anymore? You used to love me... *sniff, sniff*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Cadbury: Can you imagine the chocolate melting in your mouth? Don't you miss how I taste like?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Reese's: I thought I was your favorite?! Why are you ignoring me now??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345979047916992978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SjC7nq_F-dI/AAAAAAAAAGY/3uN-YvSAhNc/s320/P6100525.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Patience guys... patience.  Just give me a couple more months and I would gladly savor each bite.  Just a couple more months and these rewards will be mine at last.  Just a couple more months... I hope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3370338358058477622?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3370338358058477622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3370338358058477622' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3370338358058477622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3370338358058477622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/06/chocolatey-conversation.html' title='A Chocolatey Conversation'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SjC7nq_F-dI/AAAAAAAAAGY/3uN-YvSAhNc/s72-c/P6100525.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5740381149939479428</id><published>2009-06-11T07:49:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T07:53:06.431+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Must Do</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I got this SMS message the other day:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Changes in life start when you... decide."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;And that is what i'm not doing, making a decision.  All i'm doing is complaining and ranting and wanting.  I keep on saying that there's nothing going on in my life, that I desperately need a big change, but i'm not doing anything at all.  I'm just wasting my time sighing and thinking about this and that and not acting on it.  What I must do is think hard about what I really want to do and act on getting or doing it.  I just pray that things are really that easy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5740381149939479428?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5740381149939479428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5740381149939479428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5740381149939479428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5740381149939479428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-i-must-do.html' title='What I Must Do'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-355492601120085229</id><published>2009-06-03T14:57:00.016+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T17:47:07.787+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Wedding</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Last Friday was one of my closest friend's wedding. I was kind of hesitant to go because I'm not really okay with that wedding. I actually had an excuse not to go as it's closing and i'm busy, which is true but is something that can be arranged if I really wanted to. Hmm, how will I explain this? Okay, I don't like her husband. For the past six or seven years that they've been together, our group have always been at odds with the guy. There's just so many things that happened to them, to my friend that we feel bad about. But anyway, what else can we do, she already married the guy. Anywaaaaay, so the wedding was last Friday and though half-heartedly, I went with another friend of ours. We only went to the reception though and did not attend the wedding ceremony.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;On the way to the wedding my friend and I kept on saying "mare, kasal na sila..." then we'll look at each other and sigh. Then at one point, I told her, "mare, they're already married... so it means that he's officially part of our circle... he'll get invited to events, trips..." to which my friend replied, "well, we have no choice, let's just hope that he'd say no when he got invited...".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Then, a funny and really awkward moment... when we got there, guess who was standing there to greet the guests? Yup, you're right, the guy!!! You have no idea how awkward and uncomfortable that moment was! Apparently, when we got there, my friend was still having her make-up retouched so the guy was left to greet the newcomers. My friend and I kept pointing fingers at each other on who will greet the guy first. As in, I think you could feel that we are debating no matter how quiet we were. Hehehe. In the end, we compromised, she was the one who went to greet first and I was the one who gave the gift. God, I know we're bad. But if you'd know our history, you'd at least understand why we are like this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So after some more minutes, my friend came out from the room and before they officially enter the reception, we were able to greet her personally. It was a touching moment. Yes, we all cried and we were all surprised that we did. When I hugged her, I just felt, I don't know... something... then I just cried. There's something beautiful about sharing special events like those with people who are important, no matter the circumstances. In the end, no matter how hesitant I was to attend, I was glad I did. At least I made my friend happy because I know that although she's not saying it, our attendance &lt;em&gt;IS&lt;/em&gt; a big deal to her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-355492601120085229?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/355492601120085229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=355492601120085229' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/355492601120085229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/355492601120085229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/06/wedding.html' title='A Wedding'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3685942188351500550</id><published>2009-05-11T13:42:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T13:46:58.970+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life's Crossroads</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/Sge7huyCJ7I/AAAAAAAAAFw/vHghG-KOS4I/s1600-h/crossroads.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334438471811606450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 175px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 157px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/Sge7huyCJ7I/AAAAAAAAAFw/vHghG-KOS4I/s320/crossroads.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I’m at a point in my life where I have no clear indication of where the roads are leading me. I’m constantly asking myself where I want to go or what I want to do and each time I’m nowhere near an answer. A lot of choices are available to me but I’m afraid to take that step that will lead me to where I’m supposed to be. All the options I have are good, it is just me who is scared shitless of the unknown. I mean really, what else could be stopping me from putting my foot down and make a decision other than fear? I became so comfortable living in this box and now I’m too scared to step out of it. I so want to make a change in my life, I’m so tired of living everyday exactly as it is and yet I’m not doing anything to make a difference. I’m paralyzed, frozen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years back, I had a plan. I have my life all straightened out. Then real life came along and I realized that I really can’t plan it all, that the unexpected happens and throws you out of the curb. Sometimes you can pick up where you left off but more often that not, you have to start all over again. We can make Plan A or Plan B even up to Plan Z but we can never be sure that we will be able do everything that we planned. Life offers no guarantees, from out of the blue, little things happen that will make you change plans every so often until you just throw your hands up in the air and let life lead you into wherever it wills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after all that, I’m still standing in this damn crossroad, still clueless as to which path to take. I could only pray for guidance. And for strength that whatever decision I make, I’ll be strong enough to face whatever it brings me – success, disappointment, happiness, or pain. But please, don’t let me have regrets. Never regrets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3685942188351500550?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3685942188351500550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3685942188351500550' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3685942188351500550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3685942188351500550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/05/lifes-crossroads.html' title='Life&apos;s Crossroads'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/Sge7huyCJ7I/AAAAAAAAAFw/vHghG-KOS4I/s72-c/crossroads.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5966131753728313531</id><published>2009-05-07T13:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T13:22:08.587+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy Thursday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It’s a rainy Thursday morning.  It’s &lt;em&gt;soooooo&lt;/em&gt; nice to just stay home and do a DVD marathon or read a good book, or just sleep!!!  But of course, it’s a work day and a busy one at that so I’m here at the office, working (really trying hard at that as there’s so many things to do!) and wishing that I was home instead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5966131753728313531?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5966131753728313531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5966131753728313531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5966131753728313531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5966131753728313531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/05/rainy-thursday.html' title='Rainy Thursday'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-4731363102614112606</id><published>2009-04-30T11:23:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T11:30:18.597+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloodsucker Lover</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Once again I find myself enthralled by those badly dangerous and oh so gorgeous bloodsuckers.  I’m currently reading the Southern Vamp (Sookie Stackhouse series) series by &lt;a href="http://www.charlaineharris.com/"&gt;Charlaine Harris&lt;/a&gt;, the basis of the HBO TV series &lt;a href="http://www.hbo.com/trueblood/"&gt;True Blood&lt;/a&gt;.  Actually, it is the TV series that was introduced to me by a friend but when I was researching the series, I found out that it was based on the novels by Charlaine Harris so I opted to read the books first.  I can’t find a copy of the first book in the series though and the ones found in the bookstores are the 7-book set but I was hesitant to buy the entire set without knowing if it was any good.  Good thing, I found an eBook so I bought those instead and after reading just several chapters I decided to buy the entire book set!  Another good thing, a couple of my friends shouldered part of the cost as their belated birthday gift to me (thanks again Chelle and Kite!).  I finished the first three books during the weekend and I’m now on the fourth book and I’m really addicted to it! (Update: I’m done with the fourth book, I’ll start with the fifth tonight. Hehe.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story is about Sookie Stackhouse, a waitress who fell in love with a vampire and from then her previously dull life became a bit more colorful, exciting, and of course dangerous.  The series is full of vampires, shape-shifters and as I’m now discovering there are also witches and fairies involved.  Nice!  This series is different from the Twilight series as this is for the more adult readers.  The vampires here are more of the vampires that we came to know before Edward and company came.  They stay out of the sun because they’ll die, they sleep on coffins or some other secret place, they bite and eat human blood, and they are a bit more sexually active.  Plus, Elvis Presley is alive!  Or at least, still around… as a vampire!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, that I’ve given a very brief background, we’ll go to the real purpose of this post.  I’m falling in love with a vampire!  Again!  But don’t get me wrong, I still love Edward, but there’s still a lot of space in my heart for some more vampires!  But it’s not with Bill Compton, the first vampire boyfriend of Sookie (they kind of broken up in the book that I’m currently reading).  It’s with Bill’s boss, Eric Northman.  For me, his character is much more interesting, and lots sexier than Bill.  Bill is okay but Eric’s character appeals more to me, and I’m really starting to fall in love with him!  Especially in book 4, Dead to the World where he temporarily lost his memory and had a short-lived relationship with Sookie, I fell all the way in love with him.  Hehehe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gosh, I think I ought to start mingling with real people more.  It is starting to get weird how I don’t have a human crush, all of them are fictional characters.  Yay!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-4731363102614112606?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/4731363102614112606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=4731363102614112606' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4731363102614112606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4731363102614112606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/04/bloodsucker-lover.html' title='Bloodsucker Lover'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5696817445446736015</id><published>2009-04-15T10:05:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T10:08:45.957+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Got this from a forwarded mail... sharing it with you. :)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SeVBStCdwqI/AAAAAAAAAFg/mF25Krv2uGE/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324733924018864802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 325px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 302px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SeVBStCdwqI/AAAAAAAAAFg/mF25Krv2uGE/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5696817445446736015?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5696817445446736015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5696817445446736015' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5696817445446736015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5696817445446736015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/04/beautiful.html' title='Beautiful'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SeVBStCdwqI/AAAAAAAAAFg/mF25Krv2uGE/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3020699419972804010</id><published>2009-04-14T18:00:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T09:41:37.182+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A chance slipped through my fingers once again...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Haaay... a once in a blue moon chance and I won't be able to grab it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I so wanted to see David Cook's Manila concert (btw, it's a back to back concert with Archuleta) and I was supposed to go too but then again things doesn't always turn out the way we want them to, right? The date of the concert coincided with our team bonding at Lake Caliraya, I initially asked my team leader if it's okay not to join the team bonding and she agreed. She said that she understands, as it's a once a lifetime experience so I made plans with my friend and my sister. But then a week after, changes were made from the original plan, details of which I won't divulge anymore because it annoys me all over again to remember. Bottom line is, I cancelled with my friend and sister (and I really hate cancelling plans, especially if i'm the one who initiated them) to join the team bonding. AND I WILL BE MISSING DC'S CONCERT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Work really gets in the way of life sometimes, noh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3020699419972804010?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3020699419972804010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3020699419972804010' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3020699419972804010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3020699419972804010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/04/chance-slipped-through-my-fingers-once.html' title='A chance slipped through my fingers once again...'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5607690373423572467</id><published>2009-04-08T16:45:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T17:17:26.921+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Confession</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I have a confession to make. I am jealous, I am terribly jealous. Of those people who write so well and who can convey into words whatever is on their minds. Some people can make even the most mundane topic seem so interesting and fascinating. I envy that. And to be perfectly honest, sometimes I hate them. Not hate, &lt;em&gt;hate.&lt;/em&gt; It's actually a &lt;em&gt;"I wish I could write like that"&lt;/em&gt; hate. I so love to write but it seems to me that all I could ever produce are inconsistent ramblings and incoherent thoughts. I'm not fishing for compliments, i'm not asking people to say this or that to make me feel good, i'm just stating what I think about my writing. There are times that when I look back at some of the things i've written, I really can't help but cringe. Some are way, &lt;em&gt;waaay&lt;/em&gt; bad that I don't know why I kept them. I do have my moments when my creative juices are so fresh that all they are giving me are good ideas but that does not often happen, or as often as I want to, especially recently. But wait here, I &lt;em&gt;can&lt;/em&gt; write. Maybe not as good as others, but I know that I can write. I just think that there's something missing, I feel like there could be something &lt;em&gt;more&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I wish... oh well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5607690373423572467?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5607690373423572467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5607690373423572467' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5607690373423572467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5607690373423572467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/04/confession.html' title='A Confession'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-2544580279989343575</id><published>2009-04-06T10:18:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T10:24:53.053+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Double Dutch</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SdlnCHJ8qTI/AAAAAAAAAFY/IbqYd69aDBI/s1600-h/BirthdayWishesFromTet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321397720693123378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 191px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SdlnCHJ8qTI/AAAAAAAAAFY/IbqYd69aDBI/s320/BirthdayWishesFromTet.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The Rules&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Make a list of what you want for your birthday.&lt;br /&gt;2. The list should be 10 numbers.&lt;br /&gt;3. Include the image of this award on your post.&lt;br /&gt;4. Give it to 10 friends of yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Got this tag from my &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://enelie14.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Elay&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;. My birthday was past due but hey, it's never too late to give and accept gifts, right? :D&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born on March 2, 1982 and here are my birthday wishes:&lt;br /&gt;01. Get a job abroad.&lt;br /&gt;02. More savings.&lt;br /&gt;03. Good health for my family, friends and me.&lt;br /&gt;04. More time with family, friends, and myself.&lt;br /&gt;05. To travel, either local or international.&lt;br /&gt;06. A laptop &lt;em&gt;(though I might get this already, yippee!!!)&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;07. A digicam &lt;em&gt;(I'm really, really thinking about getting this, too)&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;08. An additional bookshelf.&lt;br /&gt;09. Original copy of FRIENDS VCD, Seasons 1 and 2.&lt;br /&gt;10. See the David Cook Philippine concert.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I'm tagging anyone who wants to do this. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-2544580279989343575?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/2544580279989343575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=2544580279989343575' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2544580279989343575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2544580279989343575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/04/double-dutch.html' title='Double Dutch'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SdlnCHJ8qTI/AAAAAAAAAFY/IbqYd69aDBI/s72-c/BirthdayWishesFromTet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3974207433166025974</id><published>2009-03-26T08:10:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T08:38:03.401+08:00</updated><title type='text'>So, which is which?  I guess it's which.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess too much work is finally catching up on me. But i'm not complaining, at least I have work especially in these trying times. Plus it helps me not to think too much about certain things, otherwise I would not just be tired but sad too. And I certainly don't need that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe, maybe i'm feeling tired because I &lt;em&gt;am&lt;/em&gt; sad. Maybe that is my mind's way of telling me that hey, you have to slow down, stop ignoring me, sit down and face what's really bothering you. But I don't have to sit down and think hard anymore because I think subconsciously I have already made a decision. It's the "accepting it" part that I guess i'm trying to delay as much as possible because then it would feel... &lt;em&gt;final&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really am trying so hard to be mature about things but sometimes, you know, it's just so damn hard. I have always wanted this one thing, always, always. So I think I have the right to be depressed because it seems that each time i'm so close to getting it, each time it also manages to slip right out of my hands. I want it so very much that sometimes I feel that everything I do, everything I am, the way I live my life, it's all just to achieve this one thing and yet... &lt;em&gt;damn it&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still, i'm not losing hope. I just have to have faith. I just have to have faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I just have to have faith.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3974207433166025974?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3974207433166025974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3974207433166025974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3974207433166025974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3974207433166025974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/03/so-which-is-which-i-guess-its-which.html' title='So, which is which?  I guess it&apos;s which.'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-4941577762653508877</id><published>2009-03-20T13:00:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T13:06:32.381+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Buko Lychee Fruit Shake</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just something to fill-up my little space in the web.  Can't seem to write about anything lately.  :(&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;---------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So, here's how it works:&lt;br /&gt;1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)&lt;br /&gt;2. Put it on shuffle.&lt;br /&gt;3. Press play.&lt;br /&gt;4. For every question, type the song that's playing.&lt;br /&gt;5. When you go to a new question, press the next button.&lt;br /&gt;6. Don't lie.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Opening Credits&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nakapagtataka&lt;/em&gt; - SPONGE COLA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Waking Up&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hand in Hand&lt;/em&gt; - HANSON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;First Day At School&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Release Me&lt;/em&gt; - WILSON PHILLIPS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Playtime/Childhood&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where Is Your Heart&lt;/em&gt; - KELLY CLARKSON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Falling In Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;em&gt;Say You Will&lt;/em&gt; - RYAN CABRERA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Fight Song&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes It Be That Way&lt;/em&gt; - JEWEL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Breaking Up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;em&gt;State Of Grace&lt;/em&gt; - BRITNEY SPEARS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Prom&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What About Love&lt;/em&gt; - HEART&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Life's OK&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alright&lt;/em&gt; - ELLIOTT YAMIN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Mental Breakdown&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Kiss By Kiss&lt;/em&gt; - EMILIA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Driving&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everyday Is A Winding Road&lt;/em&gt; - SHERYL CROW&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Flashback&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;At Your Best&lt;/em&gt; - NINA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Getting Back Together&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A Girl Can Dream&lt;/em&gt; - NINA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Wedding&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Once Upon A Life&lt;/em&gt; - LEA SALONGA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Birth of Child&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;em&gt;Panic &lt;/em&gt;- BACKSTREET BOYS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Final Battle&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Denial&lt;/em&gt; - SUGABABES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Death Scene&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Land Of The Loving&lt;/em&gt; - LEA SALONGA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Funeral Song&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;One Minute&lt;/em&gt; - KELLY CLARKSON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;End Credits&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Lady Is A Vamp&lt;/em&gt; - SPICE GIRLS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-4941577762653508877?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/4941577762653508877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=4941577762653508877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4941577762653508877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4941577762653508877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/03/buko-lychee-fruit-shake.html' title='Buko Lychee Fruit Shake'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8946533537936428993</id><published>2009-03-16T17:24:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T17:41:25.143+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Because of the Walkers</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Who told you to finish season 1 of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/brothersandsisters/index?pn=index"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Brothers&amp;amp;Sisters&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; last night?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Who said that you can't watch just one or two episodes at a time?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Why do you have to know what happens next immediately as if it's a matter of life and death?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Why, oh why, do you have to sleep at 1AM when you very well know that you have to wake up at 4AM and that there's a big possibility that you'll be staying late at the office?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Have you no concern for yourself at all?  Did it not enter your mind that you barely slept the entire weekend because you are so engrossed with what you are watching?  You said, 10PM!  You said you will sleep at 10PM!  And now, now you're so sleepy and you can feel a headache coming and you have to stay late at the office, now you will say how you wish you slept earlier last night!?!!!  Hah!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;But what the heck, I enjoyed Brothers&amp;amp;Sisters!  And i'm so looking forward to the coming weekend so I can watch season 2!  Forget sleep, I could do that tomorrow night or the night after that.  Headache?   Oh, a couple of Biogesic could cure that.  And who says staying late at the office can't be fun?  Hello, unlimited Internet access?  eBooks?  Yeah, I may have lost some precious sleeping time but frankly I couldn't care less.  What's important is that I enjoyed my weekend.  :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now, excuse me while I give a big yawn.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8946533537936428993?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8946533537936428993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8946533537936428993' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8946533537936428993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8946533537936428993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/03/because-of-walkers.html' title='Because of the Walkers'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3491676477713155390</id><published>2009-02-26T09:33:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T09:37:34.637+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiramisu</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;From &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dancing-teacosy.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Jela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Comment to this post and I will give you 5 subjects/things I associate you with. Then post this in your blog and elaborate on the subjects given!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;And here are Jela's 5 subjects/things for me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;1. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Baguio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; - my happy place. Just the thought of going to Baguio makes me giddy with excitement, no matter how many times I've been there. And it doesn't matter that I go to the very same places that I went to before. I don't know, it has a therapeutic effect on me. Whenever I'm sad or just plain tired, Baguio would always enter my mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;2. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Flip flops&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; - really?? Di ba dapat mas kay Bom ito? Hehehe. Anyways, I'm also into flip flops but Bom is more addicted to it than I am. I like wearing it to the mall, to the office (I have pairs, yes pairs, of shoes at the office, I just change there), to just about anywhere! I love it because it's so comfy and ayoko kasing parating naka-closed shoes, I prefer sandals nga din for office shoes. Feeling ko kasi nas-suffocate yung paa ko, hehe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;3. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Paulo Coelho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;- I like some of his books that I've read, though hindi lahat kasi yung iba parang mabigat tsaka mahirap intindihin, hahaha! My favorite is Eleven Minutes, I find it sad but so honest. Though wala pa kong nababasa sa mga recent books nya. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Chocolates&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - I LOVE CHOCOLATES!!! As in! I love chocolates in any kind and in any form! Hahaha! It's the one thing that I find so hard to resist talaga. And since I went on a diet, I haven't eaten a single bite and damn, I miss it so much!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Jolas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - I'm a huge Jolas fan, especially in my high school days. I remember I had tons of pictures and magazines where he was on the cover. Then, I would watch every game of Alaska and keep track of his scores and if by some chance I wasn't able to get his score, I'd refer to the newspaper the following morning. There was also a time when together with some friends we went to their practice at Reyes Gym, but alas! He was not there! Now, Jela, she doesn't like him. But there was one time, we saw Jolas and his wife in Greenbelt 1 and I got so excited that I forgot who I was with and dragged her inside Automatic Center just to catch a glimpse of Jolas! Afterwards, I was still so happy that I saw him and said "Sana makita ko sya ulit", to which Jela replied, "Sana di na ako ang kasama mo pag nakita mo sya ulit!". Hahaha!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3491676477713155390?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3491676477713155390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3491676477713155390' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3491676477713155390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3491676477713155390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/tiramisu.html' title='Tiramisu'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-1421131101424498233</id><published>2009-02-19T13:58:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T14:06:04.315+08:00</updated><title type='text'>V-day Moment</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Last v-day, our boys came bearing gifts to all the girls in our team. Sweet noh? Last year they gave us parang heart wands na may small card. Kahit mga luko-luko ang boys namin, they sure have their moments. Hehehe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304385438072555538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SZz2c7wRyBI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Fz2C-i-J47c/s320/Image004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Grabe, the cake was super temptation. Can you see the chocolate icing? Sobrang self-control ko dyan ha! Pagdating sa bahay, buti na lang tinulungan ako ng sister ko na kainin, kung hindi nako, major calories again! (I'm on a diet kasi, hehe.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Though di naman nila mababasa 'to... thanks boys! :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-1421131101424498233?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/1421131101424498233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=1421131101424498233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1421131101424498233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1421131101424498233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/v-day-moment.html' title='V-day Moment'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SZz2c7wRyBI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Fz2C-i-J47c/s72-c/Image004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-4734669969172449113</id><published>2009-02-14T08:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T08:37:11.059+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 14: Ah, Love!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am nothing special; of this I am sure.  I am a common man with common thoughts, and I’ve led a common life.  There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;---------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, that’s all that really matters, right?  :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-4734669969172449113?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/4734669969172449113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=4734669969172449113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4734669969172449113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4734669969172449113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-14-ah-love.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 14: Ah, Love!'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-7317819238554917989</id><published>2009-02-13T09:23:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T09:25:26.577+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 13: Memories of the Past</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He will always be a part of me… but now, I can put him where he belongs – in the past.  Part of my wayward youth that was lived too hard and too fast and in a world that wasn’t real.  It was real, what I felt for Jules; I’ll never deny that.  No more lying to myself or to you or the kids.  I love Julian True.  But it was a fragile love that didn’t pass the test of time.  When it broke apart, I never let it go.  I held the pieces together, thinking – dreaming – that they’d magically fuse again.  I was so busy holding them, I never noticed the emptiness in my hands.  I was a fool, Liam.  And it took a smack upside the head to make me see the truth.  You’re the one I love, and if you’ll give me another chance, I’ll love you until the day I die.  You’ll never, ever wonder again.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Angel Falls by Kristin Hannah&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sometimes people get so caught up with the memories of the past that they ignore what is in front of them in the now.  They tend to hang on so tightly to memories of a love gone by that they ignore the person who is hanging onto them in the present.  People get so blinded by what they had that they fail to recognize the love that is right in front of them.  What a pity.  Wasting their lives reliving and wishing for a past that would never come back when true love is just waiting for them to recognize it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-7317819238554917989?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/7317819238554917989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=7317819238554917989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7317819238554917989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7317819238554917989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-13-memories-of-past.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 13: Memories of the Past'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8011722315821128794</id><published>2009-02-12T12:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T12:20:03.153+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 12: Love and Loss</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#660000;"&gt;This is not a good-bye, my darling, this is a thank-you.  Thank you for coming into my life and giving me joy.  Thank you for loving me and receiving my love in return.  Thank you for the memories I will cherish forever.  But most of all, thank you for showing me that there will come a time when I can eventually let you go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#660000;"&gt;Message In A Bottle by Nicholas Sparks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Losing the person we love to death is painful, much more so if it’s unexpected.  It’s like losing a part of ourselves and there are times when we wonder if we’ll ever get it back.  The loss is hard, you can hardly believe it what more accept it.  But with time, the grief will subside and the healing will start.  For some, they will discover that their hearts are still capable of loving another person while for some, their hearts will always belong to the one who has already gone.  If you choose to remember, do it fondly, you are remembering the love of your life after all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8011722315821128794?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8011722315821128794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8011722315821128794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8011722315821128794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8011722315821128794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-12-love-and-loss.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 12: Love and Loss'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8372301453086077114</id><published>2009-02-12T09:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T09:17:30.599+08:00</updated><title type='text'>V-day Movie Quiz</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Found this in the Phil. Star and I think it's fun!  Got 17 correct answers!  Hahaha! :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;---------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1.) The famous dialogue "Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn" is popularized by what movie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;a. Casablanca&lt;br /&gt;b. Gone with the Wind&lt;br /&gt;c. None of the above&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.) In the movie Don Juan de Marco, the lead character has a delusion that he is __________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;a. Don Juan&lt;br /&gt;b. Dr. Zhivago&lt;br /&gt;c. William Shakespeare&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.) The love story of Romeo and Juliet took place in__________&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. Rome&lt;br /&gt;b. Verona&lt;br /&gt;c. France&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.) In the movie Casablanca, Rick Blaine’s ex-lover’s name is __________&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. Ilsa Lund&lt;br /&gt;b. Scarlett O’ Hara&lt;br /&gt;c. Bridget Jones&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5.) In Disney’s version of Beauty and the Beast, what was used as the timer for the Beast’s life?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. Hour Glass&lt;br /&gt;b.Tulip&lt;br /&gt;c. Rose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6.) Which movie was about lovers Nickie Ferrante and Terry McKay, who were to meet at the Empire State Building in New York after six months time? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. An Affair to Remember&lt;br /&gt;b. Forget Paris&lt;br /&gt;c. Endless Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7.) What was the famous line said by Jerry Maguire?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. "For your eyes only, darling"&lt;br /&gt;b. "I don’t trust you"&lt;br /&gt;c. "I love you. You complete me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8.) According to Sam Wheat, from the movie Ghost, the penny in the glass jar is for_______&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;a. Luck&lt;br /&gt;b. Savings&lt;br /&gt;c. Remembrance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9.) In the movie The Notebook, how many love letters did Noah write for Allie?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. 30&lt;br /&gt;b. 3&lt;br /&gt;c. 365&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10.) In the movie Titanic, what was Rose’s reply when Jack said "Rose, you’re so stupid, why did you do that huh?" (Clue: this is the scene when Rose jumped back to the Titanic when she was already in the life boat)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. "I love you, I’ve always you"&lt;br /&gt;b. "Take me with you"&lt;br /&gt;c. "You jump, I jump right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11.) In the movie You’ve Got Mail what was the major means of communication?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. Internet&lt;br /&gt;b. Morse Code&lt;br /&gt;c. Telephone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12.) Captain Von Trapp and Maria are lovers from the movie?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. The King and I&lt;br /&gt;b. Somewhere in Time&lt;br /&gt;c. The Sound of Music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13.) Who said this line: "I’m also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;a. Anna Scott from Notting Hill&lt;br /&gt;b. Rose from Titanic&lt;br /&gt;c. Maria from The Sound of Music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;14.) In the movie The Body Guard what was the weapon deliberately used to cut Rachel’s scarf?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. Cutter&lt;br /&gt;b. Samurai&lt;br /&gt;c. Scissors&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;15.) Who owns the famous diary which has details on the number of cigarettes she puffed and her belated love life?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. Anne Frank&lt;br /&gt;b. Bridget Jones&lt;br /&gt;c. Erin Brokovich&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16.) Complete this dialogue from the 1970 film Love Story: "______means never having to say you’re sorry"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a.Love&lt;br /&gt;b.Passion&lt;br /&gt;c.Dying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;17.) What was the title of the song that Alex Fletcher and Sophie Fisher (from the movie Music and Lyrics) composed?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. The Way We Were&lt;br /&gt;b. Way of Love&lt;br /&gt;c. Way Back into Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;18.) City of Angels is a movie about____ and _____ falling in love.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. A Human and an Angel&lt;br /&gt;b. Angels and Angels&lt;br /&gt;c. None of the above&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;19.) In the movie Somewhere in Time what did the old Elise told Richard as she gave him the locket watch?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. "Come Back to Me"&lt;br /&gt;b. "Love me again"&lt;br /&gt;c. "I have a message"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;20.) In the movie Something’s Gotta Give, what did lead character Harry tell Erica as he gave her the pebble?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. "Something to Remember me by"&lt;br /&gt;b. "Protect yourself"&lt;br /&gt;c. "Always remember me"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8372301453086077114?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8372301453086077114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8372301453086077114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8372301453086077114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8372301453086077114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/v-day-movie-quiz.html' title='V-day Movie Quiz'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6991650932414828068</id><published>2009-02-11T12:47:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T12:49:05.700+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 11: Roller Coasters</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;And then I realized what love did.  It changed your whole world.  Even when you didn’t want it to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;The Ice Queen by Alice Hoffman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it does.  It’s a mix between scary and exciting how love will turn your life into one big roller coaster ride.  And I’m looking forward for the experience, in His time.  :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6991650932414828068?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6991650932414828068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6991650932414828068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6991650932414828068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6991650932414828068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-11-roller-coasters.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 11: Roller Coasters'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5907471751251010161</id><published>2009-02-10T10:05:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T10:07:29.690+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 10: Loving Despite The Pain</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;Slowly, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders.  I wanted to give comfort to her as well as take some for myself.  After all, she and I were afflicted with the same pain.  We were both in love with someone who could not love us back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;Room 101 – Belen Morabella (First Love, a compilation of short stories)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;He’s the doctor and she’s the patient.  He’s in love with her and she’s in love with her dead husband.  Such a heartbreaking love story.  Why do you think that some people still choose to love somebody even though they know that they will just get hurt?  That their love will only bring them pain?  Then again, is love ever a choice?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5907471751251010161?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5907471751251010161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5907471751251010161' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5907471751251010161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5907471751251010161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-10-loving-despite.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 10: Loving Despite The Pain'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5164938344459474055</id><published>2009-02-09T12:12:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T12:56:15.115+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 9: Young Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;There is one thing I feel sure of, and I know it is right. All these days I keep coming back to this one thing. We spent that night together, me holding you, and I felt something stronger than I ever felt for anybody else, and stronger that I even thought it was possible to feel. It blew me away.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Third Summer of the Sisterhood by Ann Brasheres&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5164938344459474055?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5164938344459474055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5164938344459474055' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5164938344459474055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5164938344459474055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-9-young-love.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 9: Young Love'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8227863902933348849</id><published>2009-02-08T12:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T12:12:04.411+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 8: Miracles</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;So I love you so deeply, so incredibly much, that I will find a way to come back to you despite my disease, I promise you that.  And this is where the story comes in.  When I am lost and lonely, read this story – just as you told it to the children – and know that in some way, I will realize it’s about us.  And perhaps, just perhaps, we will find a way to be together again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8227863902933348849?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8227863902933348849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8227863902933348849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8227863902933348849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8227863902933348849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-8-miracles.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 8: Miracles'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-1818455661663055594</id><published>2009-02-07T12:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T12:11:29.060+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 7: Till Death Do Us Part</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;Sometimes I ask myself what I would be if Jenny were alive.&lt;br /&gt;And then I answer.&lt;br /&gt;I would also be alive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;Oliver's Story by Erich Segal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-1818455661663055594?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/1818455661663055594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=1818455661663055594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1818455661663055594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1818455661663055594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-7-till-death-do-us.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 7: Till Death Do Us Part'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-2989947429214394223</id><published>2009-02-06T09:17:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T09:24:07.558+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 6: Bittersweet</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am going to sit here with you by the river. If you go home to sleep, I will sleep in front of your house. And if you go away, I will follow you—until you tell me to go away. Then I'll leave. But I have to love you for the rest of my life.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept by Paolo Coelho&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000000;"&gt;---------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I can't explain how I feel about the quote above.  It touched something in me for reasons unknown.  I think it's such a lovely thing to say but it's a bit sad too, don't you think?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-2989947429214394223?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/2989947429214394223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=2989947429214394223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2989947429214394223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2989947429214394223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-6-bittersweet.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 6: Bittersweet'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5626813744138977418</id><published>2009-02-05T08:51:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T08:53:36.077+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 5: One Great Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;After a few minutes, he walked out of the bridge.  Enough.  He had done what he came to do, to reaffirm what his memories told him.  To stand in Francesca’s space once more, to see if his feelings were still as strong as they were.  And they were.  One great love in a single lifetime was enough for anyone.  Francesca has been his great love, and still was.  And he had come to say goodbye.  He slapped the side of the old bridge and began walking with a lighter step than he had known for some time.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A Thousand Country Road by Robert James Waller&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;--------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I love the irony in this one - recognizing your one great love and subsequently saying goodbye.  I was once told that in one person’s life, there is one great love but it is not necessarily the one that they’re with.  I’ve been wondering ever since and I still haven’t found an answer to my question – why can’t our one great love and the person we are with be the same person?  I guess if you’re really lucky they can be one and the same but if you’re not that lucky, be thankful still, at least you’ve experienced love twice.  Some people aren’t even fortunate enough to experience it once.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5626813744138977418?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5626813744138977418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5626813744138977418' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5626813744138977418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5626813744138977418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-5-one-great-love.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 5: One Great Love'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-9082897800960747802</id><published>2009-02-04T15:05:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T15:07:40.943+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 4: On Our Own</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;In love, no one can harm anyone else; we are each of us responsible for our own feelings and cannot blame someone else for what we feel.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eleven Minutes by Paolo Coelho&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I agree with this. We couldn’t and shouldn’t blame other people for what we feel. We should take responsibility of our own feelings and don’t put the burden on the other party.  No one else but we should have the power to dictate what we feel.  To add to that famous line that we should hold our happiness in our own hands, we should also do the same for it’s opposite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-9082897800960747802?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/9082897800960747802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=9082897800960747802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9082897800960747802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9082897800960747802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-4-on-our-own.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 4: On Our Own'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-2274292075085146017</id><published>2009-02-03T11:32:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T11:33:12.208+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 3: Through The Years</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I once made a vow to you on the steps outside the courthouse, and as your husband of thirty years, it’s time I finally made another: From this point on, I will become the man I always should have been.  I’ll become a more romantic husband, and make the most of the years we have left together.  And in each precious moment, my hope is that I’ll do or say something that lets you know that I could never have cherished another as much as I’ve always cherished you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Wedding by Nicholas Sparks&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;---------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I guess there will really come a time when married couples grow apart or when they get so used with the other being around at all times that they tend to take each other’s presence for granted.  I think that even after all the years that you have been together, a little assurance of how much you still love your husband or wife would go a very long way.  And knowing that you are still loved and cherished as much as you were on your wedding day?  Priceless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-2274292075085146017?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/2274292075085146017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=2274292075085146017' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2274292075085146017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2274292075085146017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-3-through-years.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 3: Through The Years'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8619487966809861828</id><published>2009-02-02T11:39:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T12:00:55.606+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 2: Losing Control</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let me love you, but don’t love me. Do love me and let me hate you for a while. Let me feel like I have some control, because I know I never do.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Last Summer (of you and me) by Ann Brasheres&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It’s true, noh?  When we are in love, we really have a tendency to lose control of ourselves – our hearts, our minds.  There’s no saying what we are capable of doing when we’re in love.  It’s like we become a whole new person, sometimes we turn out better which is good, but there are also times when love unleashes the evil side of our personality.  We are ruled more by our emotions, it clouds our thinking – we lose control.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8619487966809861828?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8619487966809861828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8619487966809861828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8619487966809861828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8619487966809861828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-2-losing-control.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 2: Losing Control'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-4631451474637146157</id><published>2009-02-01T17:00:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T11:39:10.816+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Day 1: Unreciprocated</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;Love can’t be forced into existence.  It won’t come simply because you will it to happen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"&gt;Once and Always by Judith McNaught&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;When we fall in love, of course we would want the other party to also feel that way for us.  We want them to return and reciprocate the love that we have for them.  Sometimes though, things don’t happen that way and when that is the case, we feel bad, we get hurt, we get mad.  But there’s really nothing much we could do except accept the fact that love simply didn’t choose to reside in the other person’s heart then heal our pain and then fall in love again.  Who knows, this time we might get lucky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-4631451474637146157?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/4631451474637146157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=4631451474637146157' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4631451474637146157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4631451474637146157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-day-1-unreciprocated.html' title='14 Days To Love - Day 1: Unreciprocated'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-9145046068762740218</id><published>2009-01-31T00:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T10:18:54.831+08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 Days To Love - Uhm, okay...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;V-day is just around the corner and please don’t tell me you’re not aware of that. Haven’t you been out of your house and had not seen those hearts floating around the malls? Or those flying cupids perhaps? How about the heart-shaped donuts in the billboards along EDSA? There’s no denying it, that “much-awaited” day is fast approaching. I’m not bitter because I’m single, though some people might argue with that, I’m okay with v-day, I just don’t like how commercialized it has become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, instead of being difficult about it, I decided to join my friends in this blog project of sorts. Actually, &lt;a href="http://www.dancing-teacosy.blogspot.com/"&gt;Jela&lt;/a&gt; started this last year but then &lt;a href="http://oneminutebeforedawn.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mark&lt;/a&gt; and I decided to do it also this year. It’s called 14 Days To Love, where starting from Feb1 up to Feb14, we’d pick a quote or a dialogue or something about love. Jela will do movies and TV shows, while I will do books, and Mark will do… well, he wants to keep it a surprise. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I thought it’ll be easy, me being a book-lover and knowing that my favorites tend to lean more on romance and such – but it was so hard! I have already chosen the 14 quotes/dialogues, but I’m not quite satisfied with them so I still have to go through some of my books again. It doesn’t help that I get engrossed in re-reading some of the books that I get waylaid from my purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you enjoy this project of ours as much as we enjoyed doing them. And oh, happy v-day everyone! :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-9145046068762740218?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/9145046068762740218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=9145046068762740218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9145046068762740218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9145046068762740218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/02/14-days-to-love-uhm-okay.html' title='14 Days To Love - Uhm, okay...'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-241263773895653257</id><published>2009-01-29T16:39:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T16:51:35.867+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pre-valentine</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Poems by Pablo Neruda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;These are beautiful... hope you like them as much as I did. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And Now You Are Mine&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now, you are mine. Rest with your dream inside my dream. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love, pain, and work, must sleep now. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Night revolves on invisible wheels &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and joined to me you are pure as sleeping amber.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;No one else will sleep with my dream, love. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;You will go; we will go joined by the waters of time. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;No other one will travel the shadows with me, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;only you, ever green, ever sun, ever moon.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Already your hands have opened their delicate fists &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and let fall, without direction, their gentle signs,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;your eyes enclosing themselves like two grey wings,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;while I follow the waters you bring that take me onwards: &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;night, Earth, winds weave their fate, and already,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;not only am I not without you, I alone am your dream.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;If You Forget Me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want you to know one thing &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;you know how this is &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;if I look at the crystal moon &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;If I touch near the fire the impalpable ash &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;or the wrinkled body of the log. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;aromas, light, metals, or little boats &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;that sail towards those isles of yours that wait for me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well now, if little by little you stop loving me, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I shall stop loving you, little by little. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;If suddenly you forget me, do not look for me &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;for I shall already have forgotten you. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you think at long and mad the wind banners that passes through my life &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;remember than on that day, at that hour I shall lift my arms &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and my roots will set off to seek another land.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But if each day each hour &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;If each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;my love feeds on your love beloved, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and as long as you live in will be in your arms without leaving mine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;----------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonight I Can Write&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tonight I can write the saddest lines. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Write, for example, ΄The night is starry &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tonight I can write the saddest lines. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She loved me, sometimes I loved her too. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;How could one not have loved her great still eyes?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tonight I can write the saddest lines. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;What does it matter that my love could not keep her. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The night is starry and she is not with me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The same night whitening the same trees. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We, of that time, are no longer the same.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I no longer love her, that΄s certain, but how I loved her. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Another΄s. She will be another΄s. As she was before my kisses. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I no longer love her, that΄s certain, but maybe I love her. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love is so short, forgetting is so long.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and these the last verses that I write for her.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-241263773895653257?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/241263773895653257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=241263773895653257' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/241263773895653257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/241263773895653257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/01/pre-valentine.html' title='Pre-valentine'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-2035912571441169222</id><published>2009-01-21T13:30:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T13:33:15.203+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sadness...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;This is sad, found this in &lt;a href="http://postsecret.blogspot.com/"&gt;PostSecret&lt;/a&gt;. I hope the day won't come when I would say this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293615702091727522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 346px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SXazbyybgqI/AAAAAAAAAEY/-1vYV8iXLqw/s320/looking.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-2035912571441169222?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/2035912571441169222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=2035912571441169222' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2035912571441169222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2035912571441169222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/01/sadness.html' title='Sadness...'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SXazbyybgqI/AAAAAAAAAEY/-1vYV8iXLqw/s72-c/looking.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6174667466354006118</id><published>2009-01-07T20:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T20:29:57.857+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Weeks</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You’d think that with the long holidays I would be able to post at least a couple of entries in my blog.  But no, not a single post.  I’m just too lazy to think of something to write about.  We’ve been granted almost two weeks of vacation due to the holidays but of course, being the accountant that I am (&lt;em&gt;which led me to wonder for the nth time WHY I ever chose this profession)&lt;/em&gt;, I had to go to the office on some days to finish some &lt;em&gt;(by some I meant a &lt;u&gt;lot&lt;/u&gt;)&lt;/em&gt; tasks that has to be completed due to the year-end closing.  That was quite a long sentence, wasn’t it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But during the vacation, I did finish off two of my personal tasks which I have been putting off for several months already.  First is cleaning my closet, to my mother’s utter delight as she has been nagging me to do it for half a year already, I think.  Second is updating my booklist.  Only two tasks?????  Almost two weeks of vacation and you are only able to do those two things?????  &lt;em&gt;Weeellll&lt;/em&gt;, let me explain.  Cleaning my closet took about a day because I had to sort out clothes into three categories: still being used, not currently and no longer be used, and to what I still want to use when I lose weight.  And I’m telling you, it’s not an easy thing to do, as in.  Then I had to sort out my cds, vcds, letters, pictures, etc. etc.  Yes, my cds and vcds goes into my closet because I don’t know, they have a habit of getting lost when I leave them in the living room area.  Of course, when sorting out letters and pictures, you can’t help but go down memory lane and before you know it, you’ve read all the letters and looked at all the pictures which shouldn’t even have gotten out of their boxes because they are already sorted out, then you’d have no choice but to do everything all over again.  Updating my booklist also took up a day.  What, you’re asking me why?  Uhm, because I browsed some of the books?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from those mentioned above, I also did a lot of bumming around.  I got to read some books &lt;em&gt;(wherein I had a hard time choosing which ones because they were all screaming, “Pick me! Pick me!”),&lt;/em&gt; watched some FRIENDS and of course, my holiday movie of all time - While You Were Sleeping, then goofed around with my pamangkins who were with us the entire two weeks, and met some friends.  I was also able to catch two MMFF movies, Ang Tanging Ina Nyong Lahat and Desperadas 2.  I had more fun watching the first movie than the second one but Ruffa Gutierrez was really gorgeous!  And the most important thing of all, I slept!  A LOT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, I really had fun during the holidays.  Even if reality &lt;em&gt;(meaning work)&lt;/em&gt; knocks in every once in a while, it had been a truly enjoyable two weeks.  Which is kind of good I think, to bring in to the new year where the first thing I had to face is the year-end closing.  And on that note...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;NOTE:  This entry was written while I’m at the office and in the middle of posting accrual journals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6174667466354006118?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6174667466354006118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6174667466354006118' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6174667466354006118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6174667466354006118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/01/two-weeks.html' title='Two Weeks'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8935948181625500903</id><published>2009-01-07T20:23:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T20:26:29.804+08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 22</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;December 22 turned out to be quite a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, we had our outreach program.  We coordinated with an NGO called Childhope Asia Philippines, they are an organization who sends out educators to different locations to teach children who are out on the streets, and they sent around 30 kids to join the program varying from age 7 to 10.  We had a blast!  My teammates and I really enjoyed partying with the kids who eagerly joined each game that Jollibee prepared (too bad, I forgot our host’s name, she’s really good by the way).  But what made the event more fun was Jollibee himself!  He was so funny, he really lived up to his name – Jolly Bee!  The kids and the kids at heart enjoyed dancing and playing and of course picture-taking with him.  The event was really enjoyable, though I also felt kind of sad because I felt for the kids.  At such a young age, they are left to fend for themselves and I was told that some of them also experienced abuse of some sort.  It’s just sad.  But then again, I think it doubled the happiness for us because somehow and in some way we were able to make them feel like kids again even for just two hours.   Here are some pictures, courtesy of my friend's &lt;a href="http://enelie14.blogspot.com/2009/01/lovin-holidays.html"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the Jollibee party, we proceeded to MOA-Seaside to have our team’s Christmas dinner.  There we exchanged gifts (I got two books, yippee!  And I gave a swarovski bracelet which made the receiver really happy, hehe.), gave out the awards (these are “kalokohan” awards), gave our farewell gift to an officemate who is resigning, and of course, ate a lot of food!!!  Towards the end, while we were waiting for our service van to get there, I was able to say goodbye to that officemate that I referred to above and being the cry-babies that we are, we can’t help but shed a couple of tears.  Of course, our teammates were teasing us and they even tried to get a picture of us crying but we kept our backs to them.  We became a bit close first because we are seatmates and second because we are both handling NZ.  She’s one of the nicest people I’ve met at work and people like that are not that easy to find in the workplace.  I’m actually missing her already.  But as she has said, we’ll still see each other again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a tiring day but I’m not complaining, it was a good kind of tired.  =)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8935948181625500903?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8935948181625500903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8935948181625500903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8935948181625500903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8935948181625500903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/01/december-22.html' title='December 22'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-8574267262317253525</id><published>2009-01-05T12:58:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T13:00:16.577+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Happy New Year!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Hope everyone had a nice time during the holidays.  Here's to hoping that 2009 will be a good one.  :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-8574267262317253525?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/8574267262317253525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=8574267262317253525' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8574267262317253525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/8574267262317253525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2009/01/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year!'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-9219105367609483352</id><published>2008-12-16T18:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T18:01:33.202+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Landscapes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Have seen Twilight again last Sunday and I actually appreciated it more than the first time.  Probably because the second time, I wasn’t comparing it to the book anymore.  I’m still not really sure about Rob Pattinson but I did see a bit of Edward on him in some scenes.  Hmm, maybe he’ll grow on me in the next Twilight movies.  Have I mentioned that I totally love the soundtrack? :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m so excited for the long vacation!  I’ve been in the no-work mode for the past couple of days already.  There’s still a lot of work to be done before the holiday vacation though and we do have a couple of working holidays but still… almost two weeks of vacation??? Heaven!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbyes are always hard to take.  It doesn’t matter if it’s permanent or temporary, it always gives you a hollow feeling inside.  Like a part of you becomes empty.  It’s sad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-9219105367609483352?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/9219105367609483352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=9219105367609483352' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9219105367609483352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9219105367609483352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2008/12/landscapes.html' title='Landscapes'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-1878133835670919724</id><published>2008-12-16T13:51:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T13:53:21.036+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;My heart is set.  I just hope my mind won't change or my heart will be broken again.  I'm so close to taking that small step towards my dream, I pray that i'll have the strength to actually do it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-1878133835670919724?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/1878133835670919724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=1878133835670919724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1878133835670919724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/1878133835670919724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-heart-is-set.html' title=''/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-5487679071573393714</id><published>2008-12-11T08:42:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T08:46:04.967+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anticipating</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The year is almost at it's end.  I feel so excited and scared for the coming year.  I've got plans that I really, really, really pray will push through.  It's about time they did, I just hope that He agrees with me.  It will be a big step for me, personal-wise and career-wise.  I hope things will all work out for the best.  And that is all that i'm really wishing and praying for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-5487679071573393714?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/5487679071573393714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=5487679071573393714' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5487679071573393714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/5487679071573393714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2008/12/anticipating.html' title='Anticipating'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-9200165105639077339</id><published>2008-12-09T17:29:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:43:11.398+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I won't hope too much.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I heard that one of my favorite books, The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, already has a movie version which is set for release next year.  The movie stars Eric Bana and Rachel McAdams as the leads.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I just hope the movie won't disappoint.  I still haven't gotten over Twilight, though listening to the soundtrack helps you appreciate the movie more, hehe.  Back to Time Traveler's, I love this book.  I remember the feeling I had around two years ago when I first read this book, I remember that long after i've read it, the story, the emotions I felt, stayed with me for quite sometime.  I really hope that the movie would deliver, I really hope it would.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Hmm, maybe it's time to re-read it again.  And I can just hear my unread books groaning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-9200165105639077339?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/9200165105639077339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=9200165105639077339' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9200165105639077339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9200165105639077339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-wont-hope-too-much.html' title='I won&apos;t hope too much.'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-4764999937002291083</id><published>2008-11-28T17:19:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T17:32:04.583+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy, happy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'm going back to my happy place! Yehey!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Will be spending the weekend in Baguio with some office friends. We're leaving tonight and will be back on Sunday. Finally, a short break from all the stress that work (and some co-workers) brings!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So excited na! :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-4764999937002291083?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/4764999937002291083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=4764999937002291083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4764999937002291083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/4764999937002291083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2008/11/happy-happy.html' title='Happy, happy!'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-9068839778603552350</id><published>2008-11-27T13:11:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T13:50:55.654+08:00</updated><title type='text'>When you can live forever, what do you live for?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I saw Twilight last night! I went with my officemates and I was so excited that I got the tickets Tuesday night for Wednesday's showing. But other people were more excited than me because the all the seats were almost taken and we have to settle for seats third row from the screen, which is really, really close!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Anyway, I liked the movie though I still love the book more which is quite expected of me actually. While watching the movie, I keep on thinking of how it was in the book and it doesn't help that i've also read the draft of Midnight Sun, so I really can't separate the movie from the book and enjoy it just as it is. Plus the people in the cinema are so noisy, they have a comment on everything! Then there are two girls at our back who keeps on saying, "In the book, it's like this, it's like that...". I was like, can you please save the discussion for later?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;The beginning of the movie was pretty fast then kind of slowed down in the middle. I felt that there were really good parts at the beginning that they weren't able to show in the movie. But I did love these parts in the movie:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;1) Bella's visit to the Cullen house&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;2) When Bella introduced Edward to Charlie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;3) The baseball game&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;4) The fight scene of Edward and James (I think James is hot, by the way :D)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;5) The Prom dance of Edward and Bella&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;6) And of course, the kissing scene! Hehehe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I still don't like Robert Pattinson as Edward though. I felt that there's something missing, I can't feel Edward's magic with him (Edward's magic??? Hehe). Or maybe my expectations are too high. Well what can I say, i'm in love with Edward so of course my expectations are high.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;But all in all, it was a good movie. I enjoyed watching it and based also on the feedbacks of my teammates who haven't read the book, it was good. And I really think it's better for you to watch it first before reading the book so you can really enjoy the movie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Go and see it. I'll be seeing it again. Hahaha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-9068839778603552350?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/9068839778603552350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=9068839778603552350' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9068839778603552350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/9068839778603552350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2008/11/when-you-can-live-forever-what-do-you.html' title='When you can live forever, what do you live for?'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-7417827812252475167</id><published>2008-11-12T18:33:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T18:37:34.907+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some people just don't care.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;How can some people be so insensitive to what might happen to others as a consequence of their actions?  How can some people not think of how their doings can reflect badly on other people?  How can some people be so insensitive, or selfish, or just plain stupid?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;It doesn't help that I can't do anything about it.  Knowing that, it just makes me more furious, disappointed, and a bit hurt.  Oh well, just a few more months anyway.  Just a few more months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-7417827812252475167?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/7417827812252475167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=7417827812252475167' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7417827812252475167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7417827812252475167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2008/11/some-people-just-dont-care.html' title='Some people just don&apos;t care.'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-3847977088957082886</id><published>2008-11-11T18:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T18:12:50.382+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grande Dark Cherry Mocha Frap, please!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I remember we did this before, but I can't find it anymore... :(&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'll respond with something random about &lt;a href="http://www.oneminutebeforedawn.blogspot.com/"&gt;you&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;You love to take road trips.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'll challenge you to try something:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eat vegetables.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'll pick a color that I associate with you:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Purple - the color of royalties.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'll tell you something I like about you:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Even if you're sad or something's bothering you, it doesn't show at all. You still manage to look okay.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First - ang lakas ng sounds! (Kasi nakakabingi daw ang katahimikan namin nun, hehe.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'll tell you what animal you remind me of:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dolphin - friendly and playful. Happy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'll tell you something that I've always wanted to ask you:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why do you want to have a dog??&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;With a letter I assign to you, you must write ten things you like that begin with that letter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;You assigned me with this letter: S.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Starbucks / Snowglobes / Sarah G. / Snickers (the chocolate) / Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (the first movie and the third book) / Singing / Spa (foot spa, to be exact) / Shoes! / Stabilo (the pen markers) / Scrapbooks&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-3847977088957082886?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/3847977088957082886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=3847977088957082886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3847977088957082886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/3847977088957082886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2008/11/grande-dark-cherry-mocha-frap-please.html' title='Grande Dark Cherry Mocha Frap, please!'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-2129858498156763232</id><published>2008-11-11T17:44:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T17:46:52.644+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Kumares</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SRlUDmL_blI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/NqZux0dQDUY/s1600-h/mares.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267333659953688146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 175px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SRlUDmL_blI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/NqZux0dQDUY/s320/mares.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I miss them!  As in, promise!  :P  And it's great that i'll be seeing them again soon...ng kumpleto kami!  Acy's coming home in December and i've already gotten the other girls' promise for dinner and Tagaytay!  So excited na!  :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-2129858498156763232?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/2129858498156763232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=2129858498156763232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2129858498156763232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/2129858498156763232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-kumares.html' title='My Kumares'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SRlUDmL_blI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/NqZux0dQDUY/s72-c/mares.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-7044891833849217926</id><published>2008-11-11T17:37:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T17:38:45.256+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Making Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The past few months has been really toxic at work and I’ve realized that I got so absorbed with the things at the office that I forgot about the people around me and even myself.  The past months has been filled with overtimes, working weekends and holidays, not to mention a lot of pressure and stress.  I missed a couple of family bondings, re-scheduled and turned down invitations with friends, so many unread books and unwatched movies.  My life revolved around the office and work.  So sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I feel that our sense of responsibility is so strong that we tend to ignore the more important things like spending time with our family, connecting with friends, or doing the things that we love.  Sometimes, we sacrifice so much of our own happiness because we are being ruled by our responsibilities.  I’m not saying that we should be carefree or lazy or anything.  I’m just saying that every now and then, it’s nice to, you know, just be.  I’ve heard far too many stories of people who spends so much time at work that they missed their children’s firsts, who lost their families because they simply don’t have the time to be with them, or who lost touch with friends because again, they don’t have the time.  Come to think of it, we sometimes love our work so much, we give all our time and effort into it but no matter how much of ourselves we give, it’s never a guarantee that our jobs will always be ours.  There are times when even if you spent your everything for that company, you still can’t say that you’re indispensible.  If you leave, someone else can still do what you’re doing.  But with your family and friends, there will only be one you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit, I’m guilty of this.  I tend to enjoy working too much.  I could say no to invitations from friends if I’m busy.  Or work even if my entire family goes out of town or something.  Actually, I’ve been guilty of this even when I was still at school.  It’s bad, I know but sometimes, I really have the tendency to just let the world pass me by when I’m loaded with things to do.  Then something will happen to make me realize the things that I’ve been missing and after that I would feel sad.  And it’s not a good feeling, sadness coupled with guilt…it’s really not a good feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But lately, things have been shaping up.  I go home early (at least earlier than the “usual”), I’ve seen some of my friends, I’ve read a couple of books (at home and relaxed, because before I read while commuting to and from work and I’m telling you, that’s no way to enjoy a book!), seen some movies and to cut it short, I can do things that I enjoy without feeling guilty about it.  Because admit it, when you have tons of things to do at work, each leisure time you take, no matter how short, even if it’s just a couple of minutes, you feel guilty.  You’re thinking of how that time should have been spent working.  Each time you go home early you’re feeling anxious and what goes on in your mind is: “It’s still early (even if it’s already midnight), I could have stayed a bit longer and finished this or that.”  If not that, you’re probably already listing your To Do’s the following day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once read this in an email: &lt;em&gt;“If you want to take a break, do so.  The world could survive without you for five minutes, even longer.”&lt;/em&gt;  And it’s true you know, I’m realizing that now.  So now, each time that I feel like taking a break from it all, I take one.  Just for five minutes, of course.  :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-7044891833849217926?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/7044891833849217926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=7044891833849217926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7044891833849217926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/7044891833849217926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2008/11/making-time.html' title='Making Time'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29656828.post-6235239206261948773</id><published>2008-10-21T12:29:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T12:32:21.177+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Walang Title</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Nabuo ko 'to kagabi, habang nasa FX ako... at promise ang weird kasi parang nangingilid ang luha ko habang iniisip ko 'to.  Kaso wala kong maisip na title...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;---------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Umiiyak ka na naman&lt;br /&gt;Sinabi ko na kasi sa’yo na tigilan mo na yan&lt;br /&gt;Ilang beses ka pa dapat masaktan bago mo tanggapin ang katotohanan?&lt;br /&gt;Na kahit anong gawin mo, kahit bali-baligtarin mo ang mundo&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ka nya mahal at hindi ka na nya mamahalin pa&lt;br /&gt;Tignan mo nga ang itsura mo, para kang kawawang-kawawa&lt;br /&gt;Sige nga, sa isang segundong kaligayahan mo, sampung minuto kang iiyak&lt;br /&gt;Tama ba yun, sa tingin mo sapat na yung isang segundo na yun para mawala lahat ng sakit?&lt;br /&gt;Para mabura lahat ng sama ng loob mo?&lt;br /&gt;Wag mong ipagpilitan ang sarili mo sa taong hindi ka naman gusto&lt;br /&gt;Patuloy mo lang sasaktan ang sarili mo&lt;br /&gt;Oo nga, masaya magmahal ng walang hinihintay na kapalit&lt;br /&gt;Pero pag sobra ka nang nasasaktan, masaya pa ba yun?&lt;br /&gt;Hindi masama ang magmahal, pero sana matutunan mo din naman mahalin ang sarili mo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29656828-6235239206261948773?l=thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/feeds/6235239206261948773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29656828&amp;postID=6235239206261948773' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6235239206261948773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29656828/posts/default/6235239206261948773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatthingtheycalllife.blogspot.com/2008/10/walang-title.html' title='Walang Title'/><author><name>jen</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8n-ERCWrNEU/SYooNiTc8GI/AAAAAAAAAEo/8W9HkoDx_Nk/S220/drawing.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
