<?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-7000179939206459585</id><updated>2011-08-08T10:38:38.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Falling Leaves</title><subtitle type='html'>" Every leaf that falls, signals the end of life as man ages."</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-7508015622030096401</id><published>2011-01-23T18:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T18:35:10.798-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Lot to Tell</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;2010 had to come to an end and here comes a new year 2011, a new life to live, a new story to write. But before i would start my 2011 life, let me give you my updates back in 2010.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are too memories to keep and to cherish back then. So many things to reminisce even the sad stories. A lot of commotions had been encircling my life. My animate existence had been filled up with a lot of stressful but at the same time enjoying activities that i ought to share with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's start with my inquiries in my career. It had been killing me for the past few months. There were a lot of things to do, writing reports, airing my reports in DYGB FM, and making magazines that demands computers. These things had consumed my allowances and sacrificed my other life in this cosmos. My career had selfishly deprived me from my other commotions that i ought to enjoy as a young teenager. It occupied my entire life and left almost no vacant space where i can put my other stuffs opposite to these serious things that cracked my mind. But then, my soon to be career haven't always been a burden to my entity. Despite of its brain-cracking, money-consuming, etc., I had been enjoying it. It keeps you updated and then you'll learn a lot of things and enjoyed traveling around Negros Oriental. It boosts up your confidence as you meet big politicians and other heads of different offices. It took a lot of courage to ask them about things that could possibly provoke them especially about some intriguing issues. But later on when you're able to establish rapoor, it will ease your tense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am little bit out of time so i guess my story is to be continue soon. It'll be about my love life...mmh...&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/7000179939206459585-7508015622030096401?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/7508015622030096401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2011/01/lot-to-tell.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/7508015622030096401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/7508015622030096401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2011/01/lot-to-tell.html' title='A Lot to Tell'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-1519885083727967521</id><published>2010-11-10T18:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-10T19:05:55.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'>what a crap!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TNtdivm1NYI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/Xz1MwPexXXM/s1600/copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TNtdivm1NYI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/Xz1MwPexXXM/s320/copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538123018258429314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's been a long time since the last time i visited my own blog. gosh! i've super duper busy the past few weeks. my major subjects been killing me. i didn't even have enough time here in the office, in the dance troupe and worst on my family. my course had been pretty serious alright that i have to spend most of the time on it. believe it or not, wer'e not done yet on our finals on visayan journalism and principles on radio and tv. can u imagine that? what crap! am so tired and sick of having overnights and photo shoots again and again. damn! i wanna get this done now coz it really bugz me off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-1519885083727967521?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/1519885083727967521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/11/what-crap.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/1519885083727967521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/1519885083727967521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/11/what-crap.html' title='what a crap!'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TNtdivm1NYI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/Xz1MwPexXXM/s72-c/copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-4798354267750323983</id><published>2010-10-08T03:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T03:39:00.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TK70uggWWTI/AAAAAAAAAJs/UNbwOxrRoSs/s1600/_alone__by_8LittlePsycho8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 178px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TK70uggWWTI/AAAAAAAAAJs/UNbwOxrRoSs/s320/_alone__by_8LittlePsycho8.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525622872666954034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14.5pt; line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Georgia&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;;color:#666666"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt;          &lt;/span&gt;I feel alone these past few weeks. I just lost my phone which is not actually really mine. It's his, I just borrowed it coz mine needs cleaning. Now, I'm bored. I'm finding hard reaching other people which now makes my life kinda boring. I noticed this day that I don't have the people close to me these past few days. I realized that now am already going to bed at 8:00 P.M. if we don't have a practice in the dance troupe. I thought I was happy having no cellphone, so nobody's gonna keep on looking for me and asking what I'm doing or maybe keeps on bugging me around. But then, I realized, I can't reach the others. Where are they? Where is Ethel? Am always stuck in the office with nothing to do. I'm so really lonely and always thinking where my friends are. I have no laag in the evening anymore, am now home so early...late at noon, am stuck in the office, watching the others being so busy with something. I missing everyone and I can't reach them. I really want to be with Ethel but it seems that she's always away. I have nobody right now and am not used to it. Yoh! guys, I miss you terribly!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-4798354267750323983?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/4798354267750323983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-feel-alone-these-past-few-weeks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/4798354267750323983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/4798354267750323983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-feel-alone-these-past-few-weeks.html' title=''/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TK70uggWWTI/AAAAAAAAAJs/UNbwOxrRoSs/s72-c/_alone__by_8LittlePsycho8.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-2302012628893315530</id><published>2010-09-20T21:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T21:27:26.883-07:00</updated><title type='text'>di lang ikaw with lyrics ( juris )</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;i&gt;I mean every word...I really want to let go! &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object style="background-image:url(http://i4.ytimg.com/vi/7PrpyTrxejg/hqdefault.jpg)" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7PrpyTrxejg?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=tl_PH"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7PrpyTrxejg?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=tl_PH" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-2302012628893315530?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/2302012628893315530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/09/di-lang-ikaw-with-lyrics-juris_20.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/2302012628893315530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/2302012628893315530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/09/di-lang-ikaw-with-lyrics-juris_20.html' title='di lang ikaw with lyrics ( juris )'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-8236617462159374066</id><published>2010-09-20T21:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T21:23:24.669-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Should I Stay?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TJmd6oqfIoI/AAAAAAAAAJk/2tIXDdAJOjg/s1600/let+go.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TJmd6oqfIoI/AAAAAAAAAJk/2tIXDdAJOjg/s320/let+go.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519616448992846466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I tried to endure and stay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But now, can i still bear the pain?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And pretend that everything's okay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For fear of the things he might do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Should I still stay and keep on?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Am finding the spark we had once&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Wondering if there's still left&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So, I'll really have reason not to let go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If only she didn't come to his life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If only he didn't try to betray my love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If only....then, am sure it won't fade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Too bad, he wasted my love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yes, he tried and promised he'll be true&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Forever me, truly in his heart alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Forever he and me, for always and ever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yes, he tried to win me back in his heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But can trust be mended?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Same words of promises were once spoken&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To the two people he loved&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Should I buy it this time?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-8236617462159374066?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/8236617462159374066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/09/di-lang-ikaw-with-lyrics-juris.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/8236617462159374066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/8236617462159374066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/09/di-lang-ikaw-with-lyrics-juris.html' title='Should I Stay?'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TJmd6oqfIoI/AAAAAAAAAJk/2tIXDdAJOjg/s72-c/let+go.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-3175564553482848520</id><published>2010-09-14T19:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T04:15:28.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Still Can't Believe</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TJA0wifWsvI/AAAAAAAAAJE/HBEH_ubh75o/s1600/sss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TJA0wifWsvI/AAAAAAAAAJE/HBEH_ubh75o/s320/sss.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516967552025539314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TJAzvembq0I/AAAAAAAAAI8/5TibEAo2IeU/s1600/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Have you ever experienced making friends and not just only friends....i mean your'e like sister and brother relationship thing with a man, who was once a stranger to you?..a stranger who became your idol and created a great admiration towards that man?..Well, I just did. It has been four months now that we're together now and even 'till now I can't still believe that we're this close already. 'Coz who would expect it? He was once a stranger to me and then everyone's been talking about him for being this proficient reporter of this prominent TV station. I only knew him when he become my instructor, cause even he's on TV still I only knew him by name,not until now that...Anyway, when I first saw him personally I didn't like him. He was this very hangin type of guy, very confident, doesn't care what other people thinks and fond of provoking other people. And I hate that, even though I make jokes at him. But not annoying jokes, but those with sense of humor. One thing I like about him, that time is that when I make jokes, he never get angry though. He would even make sabay and make friendly gestures and everyone would start laughing as well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Well then, so much for that let me start how we became close friends or like brother and sister...hehehe...It was when that time when we started to became real good friends and then he told me to maybe LOG IN on his internet cafe at his place sometimes. So one night I told Ethel to stay overnight at my place so both of us will laag2x there in his house. Then we went there, at first we LOG IN on his cafe but then later on we did not. Coz guess what? We make tag-iya on his laptop...hahha...I so could not believe that I get to bully the man I admire the most and like I have this feeling of "taas ra og pang-lantaw nya" and then now it seems like we're on the same level...hehehe...So who would have thought, the man whom I used to be so distant on him, feel akward on having chats with him and stuff like that. Now, I can make lambing, make punches on him when he annoys me or when he jokingly insults me....He's really a good companion, really.. There was this one time we went home at almost 4am just spending the night talking at Dunkin' Dounut, can you imagine that? He's filled up with words and got a lot of interesting stuffs to talk about, like his life. He's fun to be with and when am at his place, I feel at home. He's very accommodating. One thing I hate about him too, is that he's very wakat. So when I go there I would do a little arranging thing, just a little coz he would complain coz he would find a hard time in looking for his things. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;But despite of he's being a cool guy, he's lonesome too. That's one thing Iv'e discovered about his life here. Maybe that's why he likes having us around. Coz sometimes when I don't go there, he would text me and ask what am doing...and then that's it....I really like being with him totally...hmmm...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-3175564553482848520?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/3175564553482848520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-still-cant-believe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/3175564553482848520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/3175564553482848520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-still-cant-believe.html' title='I Still Can&apos;t Believe'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TJA0wifWsvI/AAAAAAAAAJE/HBEH_ubh75o/s72-c/sss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-1978758123633586462</id><published>2010-08-22T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T20:32:06.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>...See Through...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/THID8ozwFvI/AAAAAAAAAIs/2mFJ72d4RkE/s1600/on+air.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/THID8ozwFvI/AAAAAAAAAIs/2mFJ72d4RkE/s320/on+air.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508469634509051634" /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/THIDqs1AveI/AAAAAAAAAIc/Rn2xmdQ2le0/s1600/radiobroadcast-blog.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 317px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/THIDqs1AveI/AAAAAAAAAIc/Rn2xmdQ2le0/s320/radiobroadcast-blog.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508469326350433762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;I am so in love already with myself being a soon to be a journalist, the writer of the people's voices and thoughts. I was not at first believe in myself that I could be and soon be the writer of tomorrow. Why? First of all, reading newspapers bore me. Secondly, I seldom watch news on television. I have little knowledge on the updates of my country as well as the foreign ones. But then, as time passes by, little by little, through the service of my sharped-brainiac instructors that I was somehow able to tell myself that I could soon be one of them. Not to harshly force myself to love and appreciate news items but slowly taking my time to spend on recovering the general events going on around, affecting my world. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;What changes my concept of myself with this course is when I get the chance to start having my news item read on air through radio broadcast and was done by yours truly. The first time I did the airing of my news, I was able to say to myself that, "eiy, I can really do this...I can really be, hopefully a booming newscaster not just here but even maybe to foreign land...." Thank's to Power 91, DYGB FM, they gave us the chance to be part of their team and they call us the Power Volunteer. I could see my future there that maybe one day I'll be working there. As I gave the Negrenses the updates, I was so excited, the feeling of having been able to serve them no matter how little it is. No greater feeling could ever be compared the day I did the airing. I see through that station, myself becoming one of the most fearless journalist I could ever be one day and that one day will come sooner. So far, so good, as beginners, as what they say. My classmates are really full of bliss and thankful that we had this opportunity. I thank God so much for all this. Imagine, i get a live broadcast with my own written article on the number one radio station of Dumaguete City? It's really an overwhelming experience that no other greater feeling that I could think of that's better than this. It is not for fame, but it's really the career, I am really into it. Though a lot of people may think that most of us end up in call center agencies, but then I am so hopeful I wouldn't and more chances and opportunities would come.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;Live radio broadcasting is still going on. So, I'm signing off now, got a beat to news leg with. Bye!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-1978758123633586462?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/1978758123633586462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/08/see-through.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/1978758123633586462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/1978758123633586462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/08/see-through.html' title='...See Through...'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/THID8ozwFvI/AAAAAAAAAIs/2mFJ72d4RkE/s72-c/on+air.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-2224161583326753685</id><published>2010-08-21T23:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T21:09:26.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost Lost It</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/THDOXg2drJI/AAAAAAAAAIU/LU13LYG-ct4/s1600/cat-heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/THDOXg2drJI/AAAAAAAAAIU/LU13LYG-ct4/s320/cat-heart.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508129247624801426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Lovely little lady kitty cat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Around and around it plays&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Calling friends, happily share its life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Loneliness often comes, but matters not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Little stray cat, stranger to kitty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;But friendship, they had made&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Closer and closer, forever they'll be&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;'Till they forget of letting go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Around and around they play&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Enjoying one another's company&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;As they love being together&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Unexpected, but it happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Never had kitty think that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Little missy steal the stray&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Never kitty expects that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Stray cat would try to leave her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Afraid of losing any of them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Confused as he may be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Of whom to let go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;And whom to choose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Hurt little kitty cat that she&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Wanting to be with her love no longer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Realize she'd just been fooled&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Stupid missy and damn stray cat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Though confuse, but stray cat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Giving up kitty, it'll be the dumbest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Trying to give her the apple back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;And perhaps be love by kitty even more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;-getz mo ba 'to?..lol!&lt;/i&gt;&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/7000179939206459585-2224161583326753685?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/2224161583326753685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/08/almost-lost-it.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/2224161583326753685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/2224161583326753685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/08/almost-lost-it.html' title='Almost Lost It'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/THDOXg2drJI/AAAAAAAAAIU/LU13LYG-ct4/s72-c/cat-heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-4801878761589018467</id><published>2010-08-16T01:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T01:56:30.181-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Obsession</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGj70X-iCqI/AAAAAAAAAIM/G11hfnJXzSY/s1600/capezio_BR63S.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 289px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGj70X-iCqI/AAAAAAAAAIM/G11hfnJXzSY/s320/capezio_BR63S.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505927421668493986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Georgia&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The day I was born, or I think even when I was still inside the womb of my mother's, I already knew what am really so obsessed with. But then it seems that not every one is really happy of the idea and it's kinda frustrating, really. They were expecting something from me which am already sick of hacking it up, meeting their expectations on me (roar!). I hate to study, and I hate being the freaky genius of the class. All I want with my life is to spend my time on the dance floor and turn the music on and then that's it. I told a lot of my friends even my teachers that if only I could go to school that teaches only about dancing, I would enroll there. I know it's out of the question but I was hoping it is. Though they love watching me swaying my hips, but they are not that exactly into it. I mean they are not that actually accommodating. Dancing is truly my escape from cracked-up brain because of stupid and damn exams and everything. When there are a lot of things in my head and I don't want to think about it, I would listen to music and dance. I would unwind myself through it, aside from going out with friends or going to the office and have &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;i&gt;chika&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt; with the others. In fact, when I study, am not really studying through the whole time. Time to time, I would stand up and do some dance steps and then afterwards go back to studying. It even makes me find memorization easy because of it. I know why they really don't like the idea of spending most my time in dancing because it can turn your head down. They even told me I have to quit on it but because am so stubborn that I could never do that. Well, who could be blame...? Like I said, even when I was still inside of my mom's belly I already started dancing. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Georgia&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;i&gt;            &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Georgia&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;i&gt;            &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;I love public speaking as well and that's my compensation to them. I want to talk in  front of a crowd though it could be frightening. But once you’re on that stage and speak out the first word, you'll just notice that you're already half way through of your speech and realize that the crowd just gave &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;i&gt;prestigious&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt; applause as you take your bow. All of the nervousness that you once felt behind the stage just peter out and then you just delivered a good speech. When I love it, I still have to study and learn it. It needs brain snapping and concentration, same with dancing. But then, when I love talking it was when I was already born. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height:115%;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&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/7000179939206459585-4801878761589018467?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/4801878761589018467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-obsession.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/4801878761589018467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/4801878761589018467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-obsession.html' title='My Obsession'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGj70X-iCqI/AAAAAAAAAIM/G11hfnJXzSY/s72-c/capezio_BR63S.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-8135159845934558472</id><published>2010-08-09T01:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T04:15:35.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Racket</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TF_GFi5tI9I/AAAAAAAAAHU/qeW-U5jB4jY/s1600/DSCF8782.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TF_GFi5tI9I/AAAAAAAAAHU/qeW-U5jB4jY/s320/DSCF8782.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503335068240520146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TF_F8-02W1I/AAAAAAAAAHM/9RITuLh0rvs/s1600/DSCF8781.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TF_F8-02W1I/AAAAAAAAAHM/9RITuLh0rvs/s320/DSCF8781.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503334921117522770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC66CC;"&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC66CC;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;My life has been so hard up now a days. My mom could hardly give me enough money for my weekly allowance. Good thing that I have a monthly "H" in Pylon which has really help me a lot. Unfortunately, it's still not enough. I still found a hard time surviving with a limited budget. This is just because my course is really a money-eater, that is because we have this technical term "news legging". News leg is our term when we conduct interviews from our beat, the area we're assigned to gather news. It's really "&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;i&gt;kalas&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;" because we have to ride a pedicab or an easy ride. But then, I found a new racket that really had solved my problems, though not totally but &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;i&gt;at least&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;.... This racket, perhaps you already know what, is really tiring like sometimes I have to do it first rather than my &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;i&gt;home works&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;. It's really brain cracking, like your brain is gonna drain because of finding 500 words per article and it's like I could only have 3 days to finish 5 articles. Can you imagine that? Good thing if I don't have any other things to do. But, I still have a bunch of stuffs to do which are very important too. Either way, I still have to finish my racket or else I can't earn. Anyway, this happened all because of Ate &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Janjie&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;. She asked me one day about my vacant times and then she said if I like to earn extra money. So without second thought, I said yes, of course!. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;i&gt;SOooooooo&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt; badly in need of money so why not take it. But that's just it, I have to double time and give a little sacrifices. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;i&gt;GEEeeeeeeeee&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;! &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Thank's&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt; '&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;i&gt;te&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Janj&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;...  &lt;/i&gt;&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/7000179939206459585-8135159845934558472?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/8135159845934558472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/08/new-racket.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/8135159845934558472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/8135159845934558472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/08/new-racket.html' title='New Racket'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TF_GFi5tI9I/AAAAAAAAAHU/qeW-U5jB4jY/s72-c/DSCF8782.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-3550216248441741135</id><published>2010-08-02T22:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T23:12:31.902-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JULY 8</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TFezCKvR5pI/AAAAAAAAAHE/pXEahPNoMMw/s1600/love_wallpaper_111.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TFezCKvR5pI/AAAAAAAAAHE/pXEahPNoMMw/s320/love_wallpaper_111.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501062319680120466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC33CC;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC33CC;"&gt;August 3, 2010&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC33CC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC33CC;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC33CC;"&gt;I never thought it would happen, and never expected it thet he would....after what I did to him, to both of us. I was already slowly accepting things that this is what it's going to be. I was already on my way of moving on and get on with my messed up life. I was trying to fix myself and focus to ther stuffs that still needs to be entertained. After all, my life is not yet ready to end there, after what happened with the two of us. I was trying to keep up with other people as well. I already lost hope that we'll be toghet again after he turned me down when I texted him 'bout patching things up. I was even mad at him when I found out that he deleted our pics and most of all there is this other girl. I sai to myself, "Am I that easy to forget?" It never took him weeks to recover from me. He was having sweet chats and all that. I deliberately asked him that about him and the girl and he said they are hust friends, close friends...mmmh,durh!,whatever!.. And So after that, I set my mind to forget him and was trying to set my life straight. Trying to get my life busy for it was my only my way of unwinding my mind and my emotions. I wanted to find a great and a good diversion so I could not think of him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC33CC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC33CC;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC33CC;"&gt;But then, July 8..ahah!,. July 8, indeed. The unexpected thing happened. Though I was tring to move on but still it wasn't easy. And so when that day came which I never really thought of it anymore, it was one of my most happiest day of my life. Our love was re-birth...Char!..lol!..He wanted to talk and then after that,....alam na..KAMI NA PUD!..weeeeeeeee!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&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/7000179939206459585-3550216248441741135?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/3550216248441741135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/08/july-8.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/3550216248441741135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/3550216248441741135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/08/july-8.html' title='JULY 8'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TFezCKvR5pI/AAAAAAAAAHE/pXEahPNoMMw/s72-c/love_wallpaper_111.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-6765334409100066307</id><published>2010-07-21T21:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T04:14:34.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GOSH!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TEfMF8t35II/AAAAAAAAAGE/mMiWHhbfL10/s1600/IMG_6749.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TEfMF8t35II/AAAAAAAAAGE/mMiWHhbfL10/s320/IMG_6749.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496586272798925954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;July 22, 2010-Thursday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;My goodness I forgot about this blogger thing (lol!). I guess I have to second the motion  Ate Janjie's, " ...so I have a blogger pala," (roar!). I totally forgot about this one until Jollibee reminded us to update our blog. It's like the reaction is, "Oh yeah! Haven't thought of it for a long time now." And would have never remember it if I wasn't reminded 'bout it. Gosh! It's like my oldest post was in the year 2009, can you imagine that? And then I just updated it yesterday, my gosh! Anyway, so much 'bout this "forget" word, I'll start my updates now.&lt;br /&gt;The oldest post I had was the " Love is on the Air". Unfortunately, it had come to its end. After a year and a couple of months, love died. It was all because of my stupidity and dumbness. Love really dumb you no matter how smart you are. Anyway, it was because of this guy whom I realized after being with Kent for a long time, that I haven't totally recovered from him. Stupid, aye? I wanted to endeavor not mind that feeling on him, that it was just nothing, but it turned out that it didn't work. So what happened was, I decided to be with myself alone. It was so hard to endure the pain after it because I really damn missed him. I was lost and could never make myself think straight. I thought I was doing the right thing. Damn that other guy, but I can't blame him either, for there was no one to blame but myself. It was June 18 when I decided to cut the string that tied us both. But then, after a couple of weeks, July 8...........................................................&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                  to be continued (wala na ink ang computer)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-6765334409100066307?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/6765334409100066307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/07/gosh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/6765334409100066307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/6765334409100066307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/07/gosh.html' title='GOSH!'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TEfMF8t35II/AAAAAAAAAGE/mMiWHhbfL10/s72-c/IMG_6749.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-960094698755796159</id><published>2010-07-20T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T01:50:23.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>De Ja Vu</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TEaIXwHc0tI/AAAAAAAAAFM/7WqBzYd4S6Q/s1600/IMG_6573.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TEaIXwHc0tI/AAAAAAAAAFM/7WqBzYd4S6Q/s320/IMG_6573.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496230336886788818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;July 21, 2010- Wednesday&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know the feeling of having been there yet, it's actually your first time? It's just like, you already saw it in your dreams and then it happened the next day. For you, you already know him. Contrasting to his side, he just met you just now. My point is, you feel like you know about him a lot and you develop this feeling you never expect to come. Unfortunately, your remain a stranger to him. You're just one of those passing friends he has. Sorry for you, you've been going crazy on him for a while now. How unfair life isn't it? But that's the best thing in life, IRONY! It would help us see the true beauty of every animate existence of soul.&lt;br /&gt; Sometimes having an experience of it could be a little scary. Why? It's just that sometimes you can't trace why you're here or why is it happening again. You are having hard time explaining yourself why or how. Especially on the part where you don't want it to happen and yet it seemed like you haven't escaped from it. Because it happened again and it reminded you. The worst part is, it could be the part where you were humiliated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-960094698755796159?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/960094698755796159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/07/de-ja-vu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/960094698755796159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/960094698755796159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2010/07/de-ja-vu.html' title='De Ja Vu'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TEaIXwHc0tI/AAAAAAAAAFM/7WqBzYd4S6Q/s72-c/IMG_6573.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-5834463036660441325</id><published>2009-06-14T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T23:35:42.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Is On The Air</title><content type='html'>Can't fight off this feeling anymore. It's really into me now. I have to let go of this but I don't want to. It scares me but it makes my life happy. Scared to get hurt and feel the excruciating pain and yet it saved me from solitude and everything's like a spree. It's very astonishing love is knowing that you had a life, once been locked in a room, brightened up with a single candlelight and then suddenly a rainbow struck into that room through the window. Now it's unlocked, it's already free and willing to take in some light to have more brightness. The acumen of love really drives you crazy in a natural way, no matter how you try to ignore it, it always gets in your way. Love is on the air which I have to breathe in. And I never had a feeling of bafflement or any second thought or something like that. I am even more blissful as I let love burn my life. After 18 years, love is on fashion which is "pret-a-porter". It's very inevitable and ineffable whenever your asked why. I just grin at them and it already explains all of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could remember I told myself once and I even wrote it on my blog,"It's better to stalk someone 'till he gives in". Well, I didn't do that and I never did. He just came out of nowhere and struck me with his arrow. I even also wrote a line," There is really no love story for me. Only fantasies from my dreams". Well, now I guess my fantasies from my train of thoughts or images that passed through my mind in my sleep or even in my reverie came true. The feeling is like a deja vu, you happen to have it for the first time and yet, you seemed like you had it before. Almost everyone browsed my renowned collection of list of men and asked me the very same question,"Why him? So many of them, why him? What is there in him?". I grin at them again and say,"Everything. He's wonderful!". He is not that much. He doesn't live in a lavish lifestyle, either. He is just simply KENT, who fills in the missing part of me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-5834463036660441325?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/5834463036660441325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/06/love-is-on-air.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/5834463036660441325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/5834463036660441325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/06/love-is-on-air.html' title='Love Is On The Air'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-5505737810924229529</id><published>2009-05-03T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T23:03:20.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>....Ahai, kapoi nah.........</title><content type='html'>Ai ambot, can't think of wat to write na jud. kapoi nman gud.&lt;br /&gt;kapoi na eningles so ga bisaya nlang ko. anyway wla man pud dagwai byad if mag-bisaya ra ko. pinoy gud ko nga bisdak, nan!, bleh!!!!&lt;br /&gt;I'm sad diay kron ky ga problema ko sa akong Pol. Sci. 2.10 ako grade, huhuh, maka guol jud. and I was wondering why mao rani nga grade ang gihatag sa ako teacher nga sa akong pgka-yawit.witan? and naboang gani ko og karoit sa iya subject memorize ra anang mga section2x dra oi..mkasapot jud..hmmmmp, wat shud I do????????&lt;br /&gt;matabang pa kya ni? help plzzzzzzzzzzz!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-5505737810924229529?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/5505737810924229529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/05/ahai-kapoi-nah.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/5505737810924229529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/5505737810924229529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/05/ahai-kapoi-nah.html' title='....Ahai, kapoi nah.........'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-1963289764094478178</id><published>2009-04-22T22:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T23:07:50.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wish I could...</title><content type='html'>Wish I could tell you everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish I have the courage to share to you all that's inside me, my thoughts in my head and my feelings buried deeply in my heart. How I envy you both, listening to your real fairy tales in life, sharing your deepest secrets, your almost unbearable pains and your most never ending romantic love stories. Yes, we do laugh and cry together. We do always have a friendly talk, exchanging words to each other and we have extreme laughter and heartaches that's almost impossible to endure. But those are only all about the accounts of some happenings in your exulting life. And I really feel envious, wishing you too will laugh and cry on my stories. How extremely sad it is for me. I tried to tell you but you didn't show interest. You only give me a smile and some complimentary words and it's all bullshit to me. I don't need those. I also wanted to see your big mouths open wide or bleed with tears when I'm happy or hurt. You do that because you never think or maybe even refuse to believe that I can also meet the very same combination of circumstances or cases you have. And why is that? That's because you never let me grow up in your eyes. And what hurts me most is that you only know the outer part of me. You never really know the real me because what you see in me is a girl in her red shoes, wearing a pink dress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-1963289764094478178?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/1963289764094478178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/04/wish-i-could.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/1963289764094478178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/1963289764094478178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/04/wish-i-could.html' title='Wish I could...'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-8635682258578637055</id><published>2009-04-21T02:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T00:29:21.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>EMILY</title><content type='html'>It was fifteen years later when I came back home after I got pregnant and my father drove me away. He was so angry for I could never tell who the father is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   I walked through the dark forest to have a shortcut towards my house. There were creepy movements on the bushes and chirping sounds of the  crickets. And the wind was howling and I realized that a storm was coming. I walked faster and faster carrying my two luggage. Suddenly, the lightning strikes, the growling thunder claps, and then the rain started to pour down on me. I began to ran as fast as I could and then I saw a smoke coming from the chimney and I thought my house couldn't be far enough. I could already hear distinct voices from the distance  and soon I saw them driving the horses to the stables  and my old lady shouted at them to hurry and come inside the house. At first I was hesitant to knock on the door as I saw my old pal through the window puffing his pipe and drinking his whiskey with two other men. I could still remember how he  beat me up like a wild boar and stoned me away from them while my mother was crying, watching at me helplessly, trying to stop him, but there was nothing she could do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   I was soaking wet when I knocked on the door twice and mother hurriedly opened the door. She stood there about half a minute, not knowing what to say. She was stunned and surprised and she almost burst into tears. I had my arms wide open and embraced her tightly. She took me into the kitchen and told my father that his daughter was home, her Emily was home. He turned around to look at me and his arrogant face and proud heart were there no longer. There were only tears and then, I was home again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   I was back on riding horses with my father, Joe and Ray. And during dinner I told them my stories, my life in the  city and how my little girl had grown. I told them I will bring her here soon after school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   One morning, my father had an early visitors and the lady asked him who I was and my papa called me from the kitchen. He introduced me to John, to his wife Maria, and to his friend Gayle. We shook hands but except John who hardly looked at me. Papa said they were his often visitors because they owe him a lot of money. My eyes were still kept on John, his features were so familiar to me and I thought I saw him from somewhere a long time ago. After that, I couldn't stop thinking and wondering who he was. I was so curios about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Weeks later, only John this time often came to our house and brought more whiskey and flowers for me. There was something about this man. His voice was fairly familiar and then I remembered. I was trembling and could hardly breathe. I ran away from the house, went to the woods, crying, "I remember him. I knew that man, though it was only once that I saw him. Of  course how could I forget that man...".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   It was already dark when I started to walk back to the house when I saw a man lying on the ground. It was John, and he was very drunk. I put his arm around my neck and helped him walked towards the house and I realized how drunk my child's father was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-8635682258578637055?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/8635682258578637055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/04/emily.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/8635682258578637055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/8635682258578637055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/04/emily.html' title='EMILY'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-6511739921397399752</id><published>2009-04-12T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T21:51:27.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Thinking...</title><content type='html'>I'm thinking why earth&lt;br /&gt;has to spin,&lt;br /&gt;how it came to&lt;br /&gt;life.&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking why&lt;br /&gt;humans are special&lt;br /&gt;than the rest.&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking that&lt;br /&gt;humans are&lt;br /&gt;actually fool,&lt;br /&gt;given the gift&lt;br /&gt;of life, but&lt;br /&gt;destroyed it.&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking why&lt;br /&gt;people become&lt;br /&gt;stupid,&lt;br /&gt;thinking they can&lt;br /&gt;make the world&lt;br /&gt;go round with money.&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking if God is&lt;br /&gt;forgiving, then&lt;br /&gt;who will go to hell?&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking what&lt;br /&gt; will a fault finder&lt;br /&gt;do in heaven?&lt;br /&gt;hmmmmm?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-6511739921397399752?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/6511739921397399752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/04/im-thinking.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/6511739921397399752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/6511739921397399752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/04/im-thinking.html' title='I&apos;m Thinking...'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-4443604207885682444</id><published>2009-04-12T21:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T21:39:41.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>April 12,2009</title><content type='html'>Last week, I never had the chance to write something on my blog. Anyway, I'll just sum up all the things I did last week.&lt;br /&gt;              It was Thursday night,second day of April. I rode a bus together with my mom and my two elder sisters. There wasn't a lot of things happened last week. I just spent my time there reading my 1000 plus, pages-book and sometimes play monopoly with my family. It was really fun, though I never get the chance to win but atleast I never loose.&lt;br /&gt;              Saturday, April 4, my cousin's birthday. After the eating and all that stuff, all my cousins and friends(teenager's bond) went to our aunt's hut. We bought 4 cases of beers and drunk them all. We were talking, making fun at each other and damn, we are all drunk. We really had a hell of a night. I went home and vomited and it was awfully disgusting. But I don't give a shit. As long as I had fun, that's what matters to me.&lt;br /&gt;               When Holy Week arrived, we didn't eat a lot. Oh, well the food wasn't that delicious anyway. And we had our usual family conversation. My Dad's historic knowledge is on again. He talks again about the history of Rome and I love him for that. Anyway there was not much to talk on those days. And that's all, end of story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-4443604207885682444?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/4443604207885682444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/04/april-122009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/4443604207885682444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/4443604207885682444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/04/april-122009.html' title='April 12,2009'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-1323924142333431062</id><published>2009-03-31T20:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T22:19:53.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Learned</title><content type='html'>04-01-09&lt;br /&gt;I learned from being all by myself,&lt;br /&gt;   it's better to stalk.&lt;br /&gt;Stalk someone until he gives in.&lt;br /&gt;(hahaha)&lt;br /&gt;I learned that you could never be&lt;br /&gt;   happy to be with someone&lt;br /&gt;   not because you love him,&lt;br /&gt; but because you need him.&lt;br /&gt;I learned that there are assholes&lt;br /&gt;   in this world who love to&lt;br /&gt;   toy with women's emotions.&lt;br /&gt;I learned that pretending is&lt;br /&gt;    never at all an escape from&lt;br /&gt;    getting hurt.&lt;br /&gt;I learned that I'm just making&lt;br /&gt;   a fool of myself,&lt;br /&gt;trying to make believe&lt;br /&gt;that I can carry myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is I NEED someone&lt;br /&gt;but there is really&lt;br /&gt;no love story for my life,&lt;br /&gt;only fantasies from my dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-1323924142333431062?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/1323924142333431062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-learned.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/1323924142333431062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/1323924142333431062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-learned.html' title='I Learned'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-4116463703231853157</id><published>2009-03-31T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T20:12:34.849-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She.....</title><content type='html'>She takes care of herself. She is amazed with her busy life. She's dedicated to everything that she does. When she meets her friends, she always embrace them with a smile. Everyone admires her unbelievingly. Everyone loves her so dearly. But one thing they don't know is that there's a missing part of her. They don't know that somewhere  in the corner, she's crying. She's never been really happy at all(part of it). Her smiling face and happy-go-lucky girl never really work all the time. She also bleeds somewhere in the dark where no one can see. Pretending is her salvation, atleast that's what she thinks. And seek refuge to no one but herself. Being alone is really freaky boring and lonesome. A family's care and a friend's company is never enough. She needs someone to walk with her and holds her hand when crossing the road. She needs someone to laugh at her jokes and share her unlimited stories. She needs someone to inspire her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-4116463703231853157?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/4116463703231853157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/03/she.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/4116463703231853157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/4116463703231853157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/03/she.html' title='She.....'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-7454297925653096973</id><published>2009-03-24T22:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T23:00:40.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My 18th Birthday(03-25-09)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This day is my 18th birthday and I'm celebrating it here in the pylon office(nyahahaha). My co-pylonites here are teasing me to treat them. Unfortunately, my pockets are empty and my wallet got only a 20peso bill. This 20peso bill of mine will only be spend for my fare going back to Tobod,my place. Anyway, my birthday wasn't thhis bad at all. This morning I had a date,(whooooo). I went to see this friend of mine at my Ninang's house. I have known this friend of mine for so many years now, since I was a kid. So when I went to see my friend,we went to a bookstore since both of us are book-addict. Then we went to a restaurant. My friend paid all the food we ordered and we had a very funny and interesting stories to talk. My friend talked about thier training in Cebu and damn it was really hard. But she was tough. She's born to be a police woman someday. That's the spirit of my Ate Mitchelle.&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/7000179939206459585-7454297925653096973?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/7454297925653096973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-18th-birthday03-25-09.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/7454297925653096973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/7454297925653096973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-18th-birthday03-25-09.html' title='My 18th Birthday(03-25-09)'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-4030186993704974671</id><published>2009-03-23T19:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T19:59:03.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mistake Is A Gift Of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;div&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; color: rgb(75, 0, 130); font-family: Arial;"&gt;Carol Beckett&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; color: rgb(75, 0, 130); font-family: Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; color: rgb(75, 0, 130); font-family: Arial;"&gt;If you’re the kind of person who really wants to be the best person you can possibly be, the Seven Powerful Approaches To Find The Hidden Golden Nuggets In Life’s Mistakes And Emerge As A Winner will help you find a silver lining and golden success in every aspect of your life. It can be really painful to admit to having made a mistake. However, if you’re going to move on in life, you’ll need to first admit to your mistakes. Most of us make many mistakes in our lifetimes, and our mistakes are the greatest learning experiences there are. We can choose to hide from our mistakes. We can choose to wallow in our mistakes, and carry on the biggest pity-party in the lifetime of the planet. Or… we can choose to grow from our mistakes, even if the grow requires a painful change. Mistakes are nothing more than feedback that guides us to the success we desire. This is the real silver lining to every mistake we make – the growth we make as a consequence of having made that mistake. Exactly how does a person find that silver lining, as quickly as possible after having made a mistake? How do you turn a devastating mistake into a golden learning opportunity that ends up enhancing your life in a very positive way? Seven Powerful Approaches To Find The Hidden Golden Nuggets In Life’s Mistakes And Emerge As A Winner will help YOU turn your mistakes into golden nuggets of truth that help you move forward in life. Learn how to minimize the damage with a seven-step approach to life’s mistakes that will have you end up seeing your worst mistakes as gifts to your growth and well-being. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-4030186993704974671?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/4030186993704974671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/03/mistake-is-gift-of-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/4030186993704974671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/4030186993704974671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/03/mistake-is-gift-of-life.html' title='A Mistake Is A Gift Of Life'/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7000179939206459585.post-251734235675413167</id><published>2009-03-23T19:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T19:50:52.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.abundance-and-happiness.com/life-purpose.html" onmouseout="window.status=''; return true" onmouseover="window.status='We Each Have A Purpose To Fulfill. Do You Know What Yours Is?'; return true" target="_new"&gt;&lt;h3&gt;Remembering Lifes Purpose&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We each have an important role to fulfill during this journey we call life. The things we absorb along the way can sometimes leave us feeling overwhelmed, confused, and not sure which direction to follow. Recall, Reclaim, and begin working toward fulfilling the purpose for which you were sent and you will find new meaning, joy, fulfillment, and a sense of deep inner peace in each and every area of your life. &lt;a href="http://www.abundance-and-happiness.com/the-perfect-plan.html" target="_new"&gt;&lt;h3&gt;The Perfect Plan&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Life can prove to be an amazing journey as well as present challenges that at times can be "perceived" as insurmountable. But is their appearance blocking and keeping you from receiving all that you were intended? Their is a "Perfect Plan" in place that enables and empowers you to attract and experience whatever you might choose for yourself. &lt;a href="http://www.abundance-and-happiness.com/make-a-memory.html" target="_new"&gt;&lt;h3&gt;Make A Memory&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Of all the many things that we are provided there is nothing more precious than time. Especially time with family and those we love. This poem contributed by Elaine Hardt reminds us of such a precious commodity and the importance of utilizing it wisely. &lt;a href="http://www.abundance-and-happiness.com/a-poem-of-gratitude.html" target="_new"&gt;&lt;h3&gt;Gratitude&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Gratitude is not only a necessary but a crucial aspect of creating real and lasting wealth in all areas of your life. This poem expresses many of the things that I am personally grateful for. What is understood by few is the necessity of establishing a heartfelt gratitude for those things which we find pleasing as well as those that we don't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7000179939206459585-251734235675413167?l=carlisle18.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/feeds/251734235675413167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/03/remembering-lifes-purpose-we-each-have.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/251734235675413167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7000179939206459585/posts/default/251734235675413167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://carlisle18.blogspot.com/2009/03/remembering-lifes-purpose-we-each-have.html' title=''/><author><name>Media-Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08318472487747900521</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L7MINrrSYUI/TGZ7XskjX1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Rk3bOuiAeXk/S220/P8149420.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
