<?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-7487600</id><updated>2011-04-22T07:43:07.664+08:00</updated><title type='text'>creating the monster.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109457143617322300</id><published>2004-09-07T23:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-07T23:37:16.173+08:00</updated><title type='text'>and fake a smile as we all say goodbye.</title><content type='html'>In view of my recent conformation to the EVILS of peer pressure (namely Andrea, Zhen, Janice, etc), I will be abandoning this bloggum thing and moving to &lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/of_attrition"&gt;livejournal, user name: of_attrition&lt;/a&gt;. Yes. So if you've linked me or anything, you should change it, if you want. Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109457143617322300?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109457143617322300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109457143617322300' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109457143617322300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109457143617322300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/09/and-fake-smile-as-we-all-say-goodbye.html' title='and fake a smile as we all say goodbye.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109428771328702745</id><published>2004-09-04T16:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-04T16:55:08.113+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've only got a second to spare&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;but all the time in the world to know that You're there.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109428771328702745?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109428771328702745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109428771328702745' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109428771328702745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109428771328702745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/09/ive-only-got-second-to-spare-but-all.html' title=''/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109420327226747092</id><published>2004-09-03T17:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-03T17:21:12.266+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Caffeine Free.</title><content type='html'>We really should study. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Survey.&lt;br /&gt;01. My name is: Jill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;02. I may seem: slightly evil, and horrible to everyone, and a bit off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;03. But I'm really: your &lt;s&gt;demon of doom&lt;/s&gt; best friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;04. People who know me: pretend they don't. : &lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;05. If you knew me you'd think that I'm: someone you wish you didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;06. Sometimes I feel: sad. And lonely, because nobody likes me, except Robby, but he bites me also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;07. In the morning I: bite. Rarrrrr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;08. I like to sleep: when I'm not supposed to. I don't know why. I think it's like a forbidden fruit thing, maybe. Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;09. If I could be doing anything right now it would be: swimming. I really want to, suddenly. Maybe I should run. I think I should, yes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Later. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Money: Mine? Please?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. One thing I wish I had is: yes. number 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. One thing I have that I wish I didn't have is: Starts with &lt;b&gt;O&lt;/b&gt; and ends with &lt;b&gt;LEVELS&lt;/b&gt;. Middle name is Hell. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. All you need is: love. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. All I need is: Robby. &lt;3 &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. If I had one wish it would be: for tea not to stain your teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Love is: my compass. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. My body is: too damn &lt;i&gt;annoying&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. If an angel flew into my window at night I would: say hello! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. If a demon crashed into my window at night I would: say hello! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. If I could see one person right now it would be: Um.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Something I want but I don't really need is: A new Walkman! And an mp3 player! And a new computer!!!!! ... And Robby, but I already have him. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Something I need but I don't really want is: someone to take away my computer. like, now. So I'll study. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. I live for: God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. I dare you all to: move. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. I am afraid of: being afraid, and not being able to make things &lt;i&gt;better&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. It makes me angry when: I'm in an angry mood. It doesn't help, really. :\.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. It makes me happy when: I'm alone, but also when I'm with certain people, and when I don't need to finish doing something but can just &lt;u&gt;be&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. I daydream about: strange things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. I am attracted to: black shiny things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. I am not attracted to: mind-maps. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109420327226747092?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109420327226747092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109420327226747092' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109420327226747092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109420327226747092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/09/caffeine-free.html' title='Caffeine Free.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109402197348349870</id><published>2004-09-01T14:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T15:08:52.846+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A belated happy birthday :</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;To Michelle, Shawn, Ivan, Dorlisa, Bel, and. Um. Malaysia! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Yes. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I feel so stoned. I went out yesterday with Jo, Dennis, Ivan and Szeto. It was sort of insane, and really like, head-bashing-y, but yeah. Other than that, I guess it was fun, and I faced my fears (or rather, my FEAR, which I shall not state here), and so therefore I AM SOO COOL. Hah! Yes! XD XD XD XD &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Hah. Anyways. I'm sorry for the depressing posts lately. I think it's the Prelims getting to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And I just felt a new wave of guilt for being on the Net and not STUDYING!!!! Oh gods.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Oh, but in other news:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Um. I'm just curious, but why is it in the past week or so all these people whom I haven't talked to in like, agessss have suddenly smsed/messaged me on MSN? Um. It's rather bizarre. Is there something I should know? Like if I just won the lottery or something?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;... Someone please tell me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Oh and ALSO: Does anyone have tips on how to keep a room tidy? I've lost my handphone 3 times this morning in my own room. It's kind of sad. And I've lost my pencil case too, and that's like gi-normous, so I'm beginning to worry. My notes are everywhere! And my books! And my. Um. Sketch books, but I've not been drawing at all, no, I haven't! And my floor is like a forest of THINGS. It's starting to irk even me, and that takes /effort/ I tell you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGGGhhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT! the important things: socialstudiessocialstudies go and study now!!!&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/7487600-109402197348349870?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109402197348349870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109402197348349870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109402197348349870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109402197348349870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/09/belated-happy-birthday.html' title='A belated happy birthday :'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109344552109204711</id><published>2004-08-25T22:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-08-27T17:54:29.660+08:00</updated><title type='text'>being broken.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;God?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one ought to be an orphan at seventeen. &lt;strong&gt;No one! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;God? How does this work, God? How is this part of Your plan? I know You have one... You &lt;strong&gt;have to&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The phrase "It's so unfair" is overused. I know. It just feels sometimes like it's the only thing worth thinking about, when people who don't deserve to feel hurt feel it the most, and the people who don't really ought to try it sometime - and everything that comes along with it. It's the only thing worth mentioning, when one is stupidly crying one's eyes out, and there really isn't much point to the entire evening when all that's left is a thin skeleton of a man I don't remember ever knowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went from 60+ kg to 43 kg in 3 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like one of those slimming ads, the ones you see in the newspapers, except the model is lying lips pursed in a box the colour of mahogany, and the before picture has faded away into the recesses of the mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's &lt;strong&gt;not fair!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ought to have prayed more, gone over more often, kept contact. But, no; instead, I get wrapped up in my own silly, stupid little world and forget properly keeping in touch with a friend who has kept me stable all these years, while she drops a note every once in a while and slips in a sidenote that her father is ill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her father is dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Damn it, Jill.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have done &lt;strong&gt;something, ANYTHING! &lt;/strong&gt;Oh God, don't let me stay this helpless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to do something. I have to, I have to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There has to something I can do! I know I can't change it, but - damn it. There has to be something more that I can bloody give! Something more than a stupid paper crane or words like, "call me if you want to talk" and "deepest sympathies", anything stupid thing that I can do to make it easier, more real, more in the past than in the pain that is the present and the future -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109344552109204711?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109344552109204711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109344552109204711' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109344552109204711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109344552109204711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/08/being-broken.html' title='being broken.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109333199318634591</id><published>2004-08-24T15:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-08-24T15:19:53.186+08:00</updated><title type='text'>colder still</title><content type='html'>Lauren's dad just passed away, today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how it can all come together like this, for it to happen every day, every second, and the world doesn't stop or stand still or spin to the horizon, while in every second someone's heart is splitting and breaking and crying. I don't know how she can stand to be so normal, so calm about it, and I know she must be dying inside. She loved her dad; hell, even I loved her dad. He was such a wonderful person, you know? It hurts me, so much - I can't imagine how it must be for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after last year...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... God?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It seems too crazy, too surreal, for this to happen all over again. Lord, let me never forget You are in control...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Praise You&lt;/strong&gt; in all things. Thank You that he had just accepted You, that he was just baptised, that he is now with You in heaven, where tears and pain and hurt can never touch him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank You for grace, and for the love You have for us, and for the eternal gift of Life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank You for Your promise of comfort in tribulation, for peace in trials. For hope in pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thank You for Mr. Cheong, for his love for his family and their friends, like me, for his jokes, his laughter, his strength, his patience, his understanding, his faith.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thank You for his life.&lt;/em&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/7487600-109333199318634591?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109333199318634591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109333199318634591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/08/colder-still.html' title='colder still'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109301523306067850</id><published>2004-08-20T23:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-08-20T23:20:33.060+08:00</updated><title type='text'>"chocolate me, buddy."</title><content type='html'>:) Don't really have much time to post, but the guilt is getting to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes. Heh. Went to Uncle Kel's tonight, for the party he threw for Mako. Heh. It was funny. Like, she has this one friend, Freddy, who's like late-40s, and it's so eee I tell you, but ah well. I think he's going through a mid-life crisis or something. And I know his son, who's like 21 this year, is becoming a monk. Or something. Yes, so. Anyway. So he's being all scary and strange and I'm like, I'm 16 this year, when he asks, and he's all, "Oh, you look much more mature than your age."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which I'm like, "... 'kay."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, so. Haha. It was quite funny really, because Mako told my father later on, and she was all, "Oh, you know Freddy, he's so &lt;i&gt;lecherous&lt;/i&gt;! He's truly &lt;b&gt;such&lt;/b&gt; a lech!" And naturally my father turns a strange shade of purple and looks about sharpish, and I'm standing in the stairwell watching them and laughing my insides out. Haha! My father is teh amusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then later in the car, he starts muttering something to me about how if I'm "put into the situation", though it's best "not to try one's luck", I must "use my wits".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;LOL.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Highly amused. Since it was dark he couldn't see me smirking away, so I didn't get another lecture about how it's "serious business". I swear, fathers are so odd I say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. That's about all my life has come to.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and besides that - OH MY GOODNESS, everyone who HASN'T tried last year's O Level A Math Paper I, GO TRY IT NOWWWW! &lt;b&gt; NOW!&lt;/b&gt; Seriously, it will compel to study 5 GAZILLION TIMES HARDER than how you're studying now; it's THAT BAD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... and that's all. Yes. Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) Ta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109301523306067850?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109301523306067850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109301523306067850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109301523306067850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109301523306067850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/08/chocolate-me-buddy.html' title='&quot;chocolate me, buddy.&quot;'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109219806352128260</id><published>2004-08-11T12:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-08-11T12:21:03.523+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>hee hee. in math. miss kek would kill us if she saw. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109219806352128260?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109219806352128260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109219806352128260' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109219806352128260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109219806352128260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/08/hee-hee.html' title=''/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109188378026659312</id><published>2004-08-07T21:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-08-07T21:03:00.266+08:00</updated><title type='text'>oh, and.</title><content type='html'>I've finally updated on other, rather random, drawing bloggum thing. Goody for me, no? :)&lt;br /&gt;We're going to watch Lost In Translation now. Scarlett whatsherface gets on my nerves. EEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.&lt;br /&gt;butenoughofthat. bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109188378026659312?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109188378026659312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109188378026659312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109188378026659312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109188378026659312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/08/oh-and.html' title='oh, and.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109179660250675847</id><published>2004-08-06T20:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-08-06T20:50:02.506+08:00</updated><title type='text'>quick knots</title><content type='html'>Today, in general, was a waste of space.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School was like &lt;strong&gt;horrible...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Though, I think it may have been because I happened to be rather grouchy and impatient with the incompetents that were the emcees of the concert, and probably drove Zhen round the bend ( I &lt;3 you zhenny :) ).&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and it ended off with Mrs. Leong telling us everything about English Oral Exams that we've heard since like Sec 1 (eg. have eye contact, first impressions are important, speak clearly (duh) ). It was like an English period!!! Agh!! I mean, seriously. The only things of importance that she mentioned was that we had to 1) check our examination groups and exam locations, and 2) if you're sick, there will be a day for you to make up, so try not to be sick 'cause that isn't good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GAH. ... Then again, it's not like I had anywhere important to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT STILL! It's the principle of it all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, we're all cracking. Ignore that entire rant up there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and!&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of which...     flowers &lt;img src="http://www.photobucket.com/albums/v205/rent-rage/everythingelse/dramanightloveflowers4.jpg" /&gt; and love &lt;3&lt;3&lt;3 to Andrea and Chris, who seem to be falling apart the quickest right now. Remember, if you die before the exams, or get sent to IMH, it'll all be for nothing!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109179660250675847?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109179660250675847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109179660250675847' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109179660250675847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109179660250675847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/08/quick-knots.html' title='quick knots'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109161383753511334</id><published>2004-08-04T18:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-08-04T18:03:57.536+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Newflash!</title><content type='html'>Ooooh my gosh oh my gosh okay i'm like so in love. i'm just saying now, i am SO IN LOVE.&lt;br /&gt;no seriously, i'm going to MARRY him. them. whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ahhh!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lovelove!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sorry. i think imight be slightyly high. just as like, a sidenote/. hee hee. oh but yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had like, a bun thing, cheese crackers ice cream for lunch today. haha. that is just not good. not good at all. i mean, no vitamins! at all! hn! oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i fell high. i mean i feel high. h ahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109161383753511334?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109161383753511334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109161383753511334' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109161383753511334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109161383753511334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/08/newflash.html' title='Newflash!'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109135618213844649</id><published>2004-08-01T17:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-08-01T18:29:42.140+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>grr!!!! i am just so sick of... of being sick! seriously!&lt;br /&gt;ugh! it's just not even funny anymore! it's like consistently stopping my day in its tracks all the damned time! ugh! ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aghhhh. this is so annoying. ah.&lt;br /&gt;anyway. yeah. youth was fun today, mostly. really noisy and stuff. haha. yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;it's funny how it can seem so much and so little all at the same time, you know? like how much it matters to me really, but how little it shows. hmmn. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you know what? i wish like that everyone was just one sex. seriously. okay, i feel a bit like woozy and unreasonable right now, so just ignore this, but i have to GET IT OUT. i mean think about it! so many da-rn friendships have been like brokened and tensed just because of things like more-than-friendship-feelings being developed between two good friends, or like two friends fighting over one person. it's so rubbishy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, it's not like there are soo many good proper friendships in the world that we can just throw them away like that for stupid things like more-than-friend &lt;i&gt;relationships&lt;/i&gt;!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;GRR!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... okay. i'm done. i think i might be just losing it, but i guess it's more of that thing of how we're just refills with no more tricolour ink, and arrows pointing down on a streetside billboard, or rustles of paper without the wind really moving anything at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109135618213844649?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109135618213844649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109135618213844649' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109135618213844649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109135618213844649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/08/grr-i-am-just-so-sick-of.html' title=''/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109130053543151803</id><published>2004-08-01T03:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-08-01T03:02:15.430+08:00</updated><title type='text'>hmph.</title><content type='html'>... I can't sleep on my side any more, or lift my arms to tie up my hair. This is starting to get on my nerves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a good pout, and some marshmallows right now. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109130053543151803?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109130053543151803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109130053543151803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109130053543151803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109130053543151803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/08/hmph.html' title='hmph.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109126077526729747</id><published>2004-07-31T04:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-31T15:59:35.266+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hm. I'm doing this post Christina-style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First 'you': You confuse me, you know. With your words and the way you've been acting lately. What are we now? I'm sorry I let you down, but I thought it wouldn't mean that much. Don't get angry over this, okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second 'you': It's all become so confusing, hasn't it? And it's horrible, you know? Because it used to be something that kept me sane, stable, alive...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe it's time to start again, start anew?&lt;br /&gt;Like they say, if you let it go and it doesn't fly back, it was never yours to begin with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Maybe it's just time to let go.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But either way, I wish you'd never changed. I guess it's silly, because it would have happened eventually. Everyone changes - I know, I know. Even you.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. I guess I just thought I'd be right there to change along with you.&lt;br /&gt;Because maybe then, I wouldn't feel so lost like I do now, without you here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third 'you': "... because this is a treacherous edge I'm pulling you to tread upon, with me.&lt;br /&gt;Pray it doesn't crumble, all right?&lt;br /&gt;Whatever happens, though - I'm glad you're the one with me. There's only adventure to be found, in falling together. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thank you, my friend.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad that's done with. There's a horde of things I'd like to say, but I don't think I ought to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going off now. Yup.&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/7487600-109126077526729747?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109126077526729747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109126077526729747' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109126077526729747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109126077526729747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/hm.html' title=''/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109108655042107340</id><published>2004-07-29T15:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-29T15:35:50.420+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I saw something that I guess I was never supposed to see. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something that I guess I never would have wanted to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;We're all entitled to our own opinions. I know that. So I guess I can't have anything against what you said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what hurts me the most?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way you said it. &lt;br /&gt;The way you put it up there for everyone we know to see, but so &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; wouldn't be able to. &lt;br /&gt;How you couldn't even show me how you felt, but instead had to go behind my back to bitch about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a question,though. Are we friends? Do you even care?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never meant to be "self-righteous" or "talk as if I'm God", because I know, more than all of you, how much I need Christ to save me from my sins. &lt;br /&gt;I just thought that maybe I was being a good friend. Because you all say that you &lt;strong&gt;do&lt;/strong&gt; believe in God. And what I really love about Christianity is friendship, fellowship, and the accountability that comes along with it.&amp;nbsp;I'm sorry if it hurt you, but I won't be the type of friend who just stands by and lets you cut someone else with your anger and your bitterness and your hatred &lt;i&gt;incessantly&lt;/i&gt; without at least trying to say something to stop it and stop you - or rather, her - from doing something she might regret. Not because it's not what I would do if I were in her place, but because I know for sure, looking from the outside, that it isn't what God would want any of us to do to each other.&lt;br /&gt;And I do like my friends -&amp;nbsp;particularly those who are Christian - to at least try and correct me when I do something against God's will, like swearing or getting mad or not forgiving someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say that I know "the least of any of us". And I guess that's true. And I guess, I also know why. You - in fact, all of you - tell each other everything that goes on in your lives. Everyone except me. I get it if it's something you just don't want to share. But only to me? All that stuff about Alex, and Donuthead, and everyone else - practically everything I know about you I've had to whittle out and force you to tell me. Not just because I'm a total busybody, but - I don't know. Maybe it's just my crazy ideas that friendship should involve actual talking and not just a joke or two. &lt;br /&gt;And then you guys go out of the room to talk about stuff that I don't know about, and that all of you refuse to let me know. I guess that's selfish, to expect you all to treat me as if I'm part of your group of friends. Or for me to think that I was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes I really wonder. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are, or were, one of my closest friends. To think that you would hurt me so bad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's all blown over now, and there isn't much good to open old wounds. &lt;br /&gt;Isn't much good to try and say anything at all, because I definitely don't expect you to apologize or anything. Why would you? You meant every word, and so do I, actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know? I'm really sorry that I can't be a good enough friend for you to trust or to even talk to, when all this time, I've thought of you as an awesome friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you forgive me, and I forgive you too. I love you guys, okay? I just maybe think it's time for a change or two. Because things are getting over the line, right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109108655042107340?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109108655042107340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109108655042107340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109108655042107340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109108655042107340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/i-saw-something-that-i-guess-i-was.html' title=''/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109067586135578473</id><published>2004-07-24T21:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-24T21:38:20.676+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;just leave. please. please?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Had six hours of tuition today. I feel slightly sick, both from the tuition and my irregular binging habits, which I &lt;b&gt;will&lt;/b&gt; stop. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Yes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Also, in the name of all things grousing, I have had the most annoying annoying headache ever. Ugh. I mean, seriously! What's it for? I'm not excessively stressed, or anything, I don't think. Not presently.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Personally I think it may be due to my conscience and the Fearful Fairy for Apathetic 'O' Level Takers combined together to prompt me into somehow possibly maybe studying.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Eeeek, that's a terrible word.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But hey. :) At least I'm &lt;em&gt;sort of&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt;trying. Go me?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Founder's tomorrow. My mother is demanding that I get my hair at least washed and blow dried, but she's attempting to get me to have it styled/whatever-ed as well. I will not succumb! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It's a horrible waste of money, I say. I mean think about it! If we took all the money spent on the many Founder's Days down through the years (our memories will keep a loving place) (... sorry.) (cough), we could like feed an entire continent of starving people!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;... But oh well. I suppose we could always use the excuse that we're 16, young, energetic, and uncaring to anything that does not equal a good laugh and some fun.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I'm good with that, you?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I suddenly realized that I'm sort of rambling, and that my grammar is going down the drain as well.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;How depressing. Hmm. :\.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Well, yes. Anyway. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Anyway.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I don't have anything else to say. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Oh, wait, yes I do:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;oh my goodness, relative and apparent velocity should burn in hell!!!!!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But yes. Okay. I'm glad that's out of my system.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Good night, all. : )&lt;/span&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/7487600-109067586135578473?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/109067586135578473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=109067586135578473' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109067586135578473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109067586135578473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/just-leave.html' title=''/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-109014545920647428</id><published>2004-07-18T18:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-18T18:10:59.206+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>she couldn't say anything with the heat that pressed all around,&lt;br /&gt;but then his words told her everything.&lt;br /&gt;"you're a fool, love."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-109014545920647428?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109014545920647428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/109014545920647428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/she-couldnt-say-anything-with-heat.html' title=''/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108998947761195253</id><published>2004-07-16T22:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-16T22:51:17.613+08:00</updated><title type='text'>oh my word.</title><content type='html'>okay, everyone who has 800x600 resolution screens - please tell me! when you open my blog, is it honestly super irritating with all the scrollbars, etc? my gosh! because like, i've been using it on like the big-screen computer at home, and i just opened it on my laptop and oh my GOSH IT'S BLOODY ANNOYING. &lt;br /&gt;I WILL SHRINK IT BY A MILLION TIMES IF I HAVE TO TO MAKE IT FIT!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;eCK!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-108998947761195253?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108998947761195253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108998947761195253' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108998947761195253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108998947761195253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/oh-my-word.html' title='oh my word.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108997131807347262</id><published>2004-07-16T17:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-16T22:46:46.980+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There's no use hiding, love. &lt;br /&gt;I seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee youu! &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/7487600-108997131807347262?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108997131807347262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108997131807347262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108997131807347262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108997131807347262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/theres-no-use-hiding-love.html' title=''/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108980274149094030</id><published>2004-07-14T18:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-14T18:59:01.490+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frank E. Peretti. Go read!</title><content type='html'>&lt;- Added a new link. I've been meaning to get round to adding it for a while now, but just couldn't really be bothered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to criticize, ostracize, insult, lynch, etc. :)&lt;br /&gt;Because I so dearly love your feedback, don't you know. ^____^.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 jill&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-108980274149094030?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108980274149094030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108980274149094030' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108980274149094030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108980274149094030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/frank-e-peretti-go-read.html' title='Frank E. Peretti. Go read!'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108971450851203170</id><published>2004-07-13T18:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-13T18:28:28.513+08:00</updated><title type='text'>lighten the load here.</title><content type='html'>you know what? i keep forgetting. people are people, and people are generally untrustworthy, and people generally let you down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cynical, and pessimistic, yes, i know, but it's true, and it hurts when you expect anything more but just end up disappointed like every time before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and every time it hurts more, so what's the point? you think you can finally trust a person, but in the end they forget you anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so why bother trusting anyone, really? it's not like they ever come through for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-108971450851203170?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108971450851203170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108971450851203170' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108971450851203170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108971450851203170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/lighten-load-here.html' title='lighten the load here.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108954154087610601</id><published>2004-07-11T17:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-11T18:25:40.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'>silver tip tea.</title><content type='html'>"The only true currency in this bankrupt world is the moment shared between two people who are uncool."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I really do love "Almost Famous", you know. You all must go watch it. :)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zhen came to my church today! Yay! Isn't it totally noisy, Zhen? Haha. And soooooo dawdling. :) I'm so glad you came, by the way. It was good having you there, really! Even if I did look like a giant brinjal. :) Yes. And - thank God - Hon did &lt;b&gt;not&lt;/b&gt; get me a thong like he threatened to, but instead got me a very... interesting... sketch book. Hm. Hm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. Yeah. And Bel gave me the coolest earrings. AND I GOT MY DUCT TAPE YAY ZHEN LOVE YAY! xD !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha. Yes. Then Brenda and the lot &lt;b&gt;DITCHED ME&lt;/b&gt; without even telling me, so I was left with Jon and Kenneth. Bleh. Yeah. We went up to the arcade and stuff, and then I dragged Kenneth to find Guo Xi's present with me, even though he was no help and gave daft suggestions like, "Get him a CD." Honestly! Pffft. &lt;br /&gt;THEN they left the arcade to meet up with Hon to go for the soccer game, while FORCING ME to visualize each other in women's underwear. It was truly traumatising! Seriously! I mean, I'm a very visual person, and you just DON'T say things like that without dire consequences! AGH I must go burn my brain now. Ugghhh. Well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuition, in which I did all of 8 MCQ questions in the period of 2 hours. I think one day Mr. Goh is just going to have a seizure and impale me on the door, like in the Happy Tree Friends cartoons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(On a sidenote, I think Yin Han is avoiding me, for some reason. :( It's kind of sad. I hope I didn't say something or... something. :\.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. Yeah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to go back to school, you know. :( Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;I'm really starting to hate it. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;s&gt;If that's the way you want it, fine. After all, this isn't different from all those other times, is it? I mean, it's not like you actually give a damn whether we're friends or not. It's all the same to you; who cares how hard I try to make this work? It's all the same.&lt;/s&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-108954154087610601?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108954154087610601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108954154087610601' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108954154087610601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108954154087610601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/silver-tip-tea.html' title='silver tip tea.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108945894352999732</id><published>2004-07-10T18:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-10T19:40:53.086+08:00</updated><title type='text'>rant (contd.)</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;This is to as much correct myself as it is to hopefully make things clearer and help us find God's will.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;2 Timothy 4:2&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage - with great patience and careful instruction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;:3&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;1 Corinthians 4:4&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;:5&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;Proverbs 14:26-27&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; He who fears the Lord has a secure fortress, and for his children it will be refuge.&lt;br /&gt;The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life, turning a man from the snares of death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;:29&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; A patient man has great understanding, but a quick-tempered man displays folly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;Isaiah 51:12-13a&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; Who are you that you fear mortal men, the sons of men, who are but grass, that you forget the Lord your Maker, who stretched out the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth, that you live in constant terror every day...? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;Genesis 50:17&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; This is what you are to say to Joseph: "I ask you to forgive your brothers the sins and the wrongs they committed in treating you so badly. Now please forgive the sins of the servants of the God of your father." When their message came to him, Joseph wept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;Psalm 65:3&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; When we were overwhelmed by sins, you forgave our transgressions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;1 John 3:14&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; Anyone who does not love remains in death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;:23&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; And this is his command: to believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he commanded us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt; 4:20b&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. &lt;b&gt;:21&lt;/b&gt; And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;James 4:11&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; Brother, do not slander one another. Anyone who speaks against his brother or judges him speaks against the law and judges it. When you judge the law, you are not keeping it, but sitting in judgement on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;Proverbs 17:9&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; He who covers over an offense promotes love, but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;:17&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;Matthew 18:21&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;:22&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;1 Corinthians 13:8&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; Love never fails.&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/7487600-108945894352999732?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108945894352999732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108945894352999732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108945894352999732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108945894352999732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/rant-contd.html' title='rant (contd.)'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108937038750550387</id><published>2004-07-09T18:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-09T18:53:07.506+08:00</updated><title type='text'>rant.</title><content type='html'>This whole thing is getting way out of hand. Fine, everyone says Andrea has had way enough of Stephanie's crap, and sure, I guess I agree, after what I've heard. The blackmailing thing was especially uncalled for, right. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But she did apologize. And she tried to make it up. And she tried to make things right.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't everyone make mistakes? Maybe I'm sounding like a Hallmark card, or I sound like a total simplistic idiot, and all of you are going, "It's not that simple...", but I'm serious, it &lt;b&gt;is&lt;/b&gt; true, and why the hell &lt;b&gt;isn't&lt;/b&gt; it that simple? Because it &lt;u&gt;ought&lt;/u&gt; to be? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard Andrea's already forgiven Steph, she just wants her out of her life, but she's already okay with her. If that's really true, then great. But maybe it's time to start acting like it. Because honestly, if I hadn't been &lt;b&gt;told&lt;/b&gt;, I would have still thought that Andrea hated the living daylights out of Stephanie and was still really, really angry. The constant, constant bitching and behind-the-back name-calling kind of points in that direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, what do I know? Maybe Andrea really &lt;b&gt;has&lt;/b&gt; forgiven Steph. Well, then maybe Stephanie ought to know. You say she's pitiable, and everyone's putting Andrea as the bad guy, and Andrea shouldn't have to deal with that crap - and I agree, it IS all true. But look - everyone knows how badly Steph is dealing with life in general right now. I mean, she's cutting herself, and she has been for ages. Lots of girls do it for a month or two, then stop when no one's giving them any attention, and I know a lot of them like that. But this is way too much, and this &lt;b&gt;isn't&lt;/b&gt; like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph is getting depressed, and she wants attention. She's getting manic depressive, like Robbie, who bites on his bad days, like the way she keeps getting physically violent and lashing out at Mei Yi and stuff. In my opinion - the more Andrea, and Janice, and the rest of us, keep "taking sides" and bitching about her and stuff, &lt;strong&gt;the worse this is going to get. &lt;/strong&gt; Ignoring Stephanie is &lt;b&gt;not&lt;/b&gt; going to solve anything. Andrea has friends to fall back on, and Stephanie doesn't. You say it's because she's driving them all away, and I guess that's true. Either way, the more each of us act like we don't care about her, the worse she's going to feel, emotionally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one's asking Andrea to be friends with Stephanie again. But maybe she ought to stop acting like her &lt;b&gt;enemy&lt;/b&gt;. You say that &lt;b&gt;isn't&lt;/b&gt; what Andrea wants to do, because what she wants is Steph out of her life, but it certainly looks like she just hates her, such as when she says things like she wishes one day she'd cut herself and not stop bleeding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said - my mum had a friend in secondary school or jc or something, and the way my mum described it, she sounded really like Steph. She was always cutting herself, or going on about how one day she was going to kill herself. My mum and her friends were worried, so they told their lecturer, but he couldn't do anything unless she came to him for help. So they told her parents, who didn't believe them and said they would be able to handle it. A few months later, her friend hung herself and died, just before the finals. My mum said at the end of it all, there really isn't anything to say. But at least they knew they had done all they could as friends, and they didn't need to feel like it was their fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if Stephanie is serious about killing herself or not. &lt;strong&gt;I don't know&lt;/strong&gt;. Some of you say she is, some of you say she'd never do it. The way I see it, that's where this is going. And I think I can be pretty damn serious in saying that if one day we come to school in the morning and find out Stephanie killed herself the night before, not a single one of us - even Andrea, or Janice - is going to be unaffected by it, or not be thinking, "I could have done more to stop this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to put God into this -- even though I think that the most uncomplicated, direct and correct way to handle this is to look to God -- because I've been told that I shouldn't, and because some people won't want to hear it, and because I think those some people already know what I am going to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not hearing it isn't going to make it go away, and if you aren't going to believe, and that makes you feel better, then I guess that's your choice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;strong&gt;don't&lt;/strong&gt; want to condemn anyone here or anything. This is just what I think. &lt;strong&gt;It's an opinion.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(... and yes, I am indeed too headstrong and don't listen to people when they tell me to be quiet. I do realize, thank you.)&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/7487600-108937038750550387?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108937038750550387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108937038750550387' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108937038750550387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108937038750550387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/rant.html' title='rant.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108927382820455007</id><published>2004-07-08T15:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-09T18:16:28.093+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What is this life? Such words that &lt;br /&gt;Break and call to something more! Of&lt;br /&gt;Naught in truth or depth beyond&lt;br /&gt;"Bless you", "Good morning", "Hello", there?&lt;br /&gt;But in the most honest of nights! I tell&lt;br /&gt;You, there is not but one that could&lt;br /&gt;Make any truth or stir away &lt;br /&gt;The dark of night that lies within &lt;br /&gt;These pumping, hardening walls of the&lt;br /&gt;Heart that do wait,&lt;br /&gt;Wait for an answer, the answer.&lt;br /&gt;Like yours, as mine - &lt;br /&gt;Do you hear the cry? For there is&lt;br /&gt;None who can dull the pain or mute these moving&lt;br /&gt;Throats that yearn to be twisted.&lt;br /&gt;The dark is what we wait for, what we call for, &lt;br /&gt;What we live for. And only then -&lt;br /&gt;Then, when all is gone and lost and &lt;br /&gt;Alone, and when hands grope to find, but&lt;br /&gt;Find nothing - &lt;br /&gt;The only time and place &lt;br /&gt;Where we can hear the sound &lt;br /&gt;Of truth and light is in the shadows of our wake.&lt;br /&gt;Do you see it now? The words that I call you to keep?&lt;br /&gt;Do not forget! Do not forget this,&lt;br /&gt;Or love, or life, or I, who will not forget you!&lt;br /&gt;Because this is one of those times,&lt;br /&gt;And this is one of the cracks on the wall of time. So thus,&lt;br /&gt;It will end, it must end, and so it shall...&lt;br /&gt;"Good bye!"&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/7487600-108927382820455007?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108927382820455007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108927382820455007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108927382820455007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108927382820455007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/what-is-this-life-such-words-that.html' title=''/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108919442746040948</id><published>2004-07-07T17:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-07T18:02:04.903+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the small man.</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;"We're all out of fresh chances, love."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha. Drama was so fun today. I mean, it actually consisted of &lt;b&gt;drama&lt;/b&gt;, and not like, us attempting suicide/homicide and all that. Yeah. This group of high school students from Australia came to perform, and it was really, really funny because they all wanted to take pictures with Nada and me and swap email addresses, and we both were like, uhhh okay! sure! Haha. My cheeks hurt from smiling. ^___^. Yeah. Oh, and Yuan Qi and Ivan gave me my -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH MY GOSH, like, hey man, I'm SIXTEEN. Whoa! xD! Dude!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sixteen.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;SIXTEEN.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHOA! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha. XD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd think I'd sound a little maturer, but oh well. ^____^.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. Thank you guys for your presents and love and everything else! :) Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Thank &lt;b&gt;you&lt;/b&gt;, most of all.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. We're going Pete's Place later, for dinner and to celebrate, etc. Hah. I'm okay with that, I guess. It'll be nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and - Math was &lt;b&gt;sO&lt;/b&gt; embarrassing today. Oh man. Miss Kek made me &lt;b&gt;sing&lt;/b&gt; in front of the whole class, and then got the whole class to sing "Happy Birthday", before I was allowed back to my seat. Oh man! Agh. SOO embarrassing! OH MY GOSH, and Drama! THAT was way too embarrassing for words, man. Like, they all started singing! All of them! With the Australian people singing too! It was SO EMBARRASSING! I wanted to hide under the &lt;u&gt;stage&lt;/u&gt;. Oh mann. And then like they just randomly said "Happy Birthday" to me and stuff, and I was like, agh, thank you... &lt;:). Gah. &lt;strong&gt;GAH. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. ANYWAY. Bleh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. I guess all in all it was fun. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay. Yay yay. I have TWO new sketch books! xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;07.07.04&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/7487600-108919442746040948?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108919442746040948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108919442746040948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108919442746040948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108919442746040948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/small-man.html' title='the small man.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108903577716568043</id><published>2004-07-05T21:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-05T21:56:17.166+08:00</updated><title type='text'>lol. i'm coming out.</title><content type='html'>Yes, so. For those who might be wondering -&lt;br /&gt;I actually have had like, a private weblog thing since. um. Since like, 2002? Yeah. And when people found out, they demanded to see it. So I took it all, edited every single post, and put it into a semi-public blog, but not, like, totally public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then &lt;i&gt;other&lt;/i&gt; people wanted to see it, and I didn't want them to, so, therefore, I'M RESTARTING. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, the semi-public blog is. Um. Still semi-public, but this is totally public, so you can all be nosy and read random things! Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that there's much to read, but. Oh well. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Jill&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-108903577716568043?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108903577716568043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108903577716568043' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108903577716568043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108903577716568043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/lol-im-coming-out.html' title='lol. i&apos;m coming out.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108900411393275301</id><published>2004-07-05T12:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-05T13:08:33.933+08:00</updated><title type='text'>failed attempts to fly.</title><content type='html'>:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a good mood, rather. Because it's Youth Day, yeah, and also because of. Haha. Well. Something else, which I won't talk about since I really shouldn't.&lt;br /&gt;No, it's not anything scandalous/something you all would want to know about, it's just something which I'm planning and which all of you will find out about soon. Eventually. ^_____^. Oh, and because I have wonderfullll friends who bought me cool things! Yes! Haha. Even Sam and Karen and Ivan and Yuan Qi, because they meant it well, even if the gifts were gROSS and embarrassing. Ack. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and &lt;strong&gt;love!&lt;/strong&gt; to Janice and Andrea, who gave me the coolest gift. :D Switchfoot! And sketch book! And um. Socks! :) And food! Though, speaking of which - you guys were totally &lt;strong&gt;useless&lt;/strong&gt;, since now we all have eaten laksa for the past 3 meals, thanks for asking. Ack! I'm getting sick of it, seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well yeah. Hm. Oh, and we have mounds and mounds of chocolate, man. And CHIPS. My gosh. I don't know how we're going to finish it. :S.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Anyways. :) The party was fun. :D So many people came! Yay. Haha. I wanted to invite a lot of the ACS bunch though, but they didn't get the invite, and so they went to play soccer, because they thought I didn't invite them, which made me feel sooo bad!!! Agh! ... Sigh. Oh well. But it was fun! :) And Kenneth and Bryan were so sweet; they actually went out right after Youth to get me a CD before coming to the party. Lol. Oh, and Szeto's present was seriously wayy too nice. Man, I have to get him something really, really nice in return... Hm. And Reg and Evelyn came! That was really cool, haha. :D Yay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I didn't really have time to feel scared during the actual party, even if I had felt so nervous before. Haha. Someone - I can't remember who - commented that they thought I was very brave to have such a big party with such a diverse group of people. Haha. I thought that was funny. :)&lt;br /&gt;My gosh. And then there was that whole thing about "George".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me just state - &lt;b&gt;I DO NOT HAVE A SECRET BOYFRIEND NAMED GEORGE! I DO NOT!&lt;/b&gt; There's NORMAN and HENRY, and besides them, my love is to NO ONE ELSE, all right?&lt;br /&gt;Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you guys, so so much, for coming. Seriously. All of you who came. You really made it awesome, even if I am turning slowly into an old doddering woman. ^____^. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3.&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/7487600-108900411393275301?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108900411393275301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108900411393275301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108900411393275301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108900411393275301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/failed-attempts-to-fly.html' title='failed attempts to fly.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108886802212140313</id><published>2004-07-03T23:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-03T23:20:22.123+08:00</updated><title type='text'>far left!</title><content type='html'>Party thing tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm kind of scared, but in a semi-good, nervous way, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Listening today started off kinda horrifyingly, but all in all it wasn't too bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so messed up. Like maybe everything's just a fake, and the truth is that we're all running out of tricolour ink without refills, or we're like faulty remote controls that don't control as much as they do stay remote, or we're just arrows - arrows on a board that points to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;Is this what there is left?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-108886802212140313?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108886802212140313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108886802212140313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108886802212140313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108886802212140313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/far-left.html' title='far left!'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108867679109188719</id><published>2004-07-01T18:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-01T18:18:25.313+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the start and end of everything</title><content type='html'>I don't &lt;b&gt;care&lt;/b&gt;, I will start a proper weblog that does not bother me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;AGH THIS TEMPLATE IS ANNOYING!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh.&lt;br /&gt;Fine.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way. :\.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had Chinese Oral today! Agh! So! Bad! It was horrible, I tell you! HORRIBLE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came out swearing under my breath, it was that bad. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geez. That was like the most evil question ever. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Agh. AGH AGH AGH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breathe.&lt;br /&gt;It's over. It's &lt;b&gt;over&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop thinking about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-108867679109188719?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108867679109188719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108867679109188719' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108867679109188719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108867679109188719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/07/start-and-end-of-everything.html' title='the start and end of everything'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487600.post-108859173048228567</id><published>2004-06-30T18:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-06-30T18:35:30.483+08:00</updated><title type='text'>one hundred other lovers.</title><content type='html'>This template gives me a headache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;one hundred other altars.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7487600-108859173048228567?l=faulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/feeds/108859173048228567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7487600&amp;postID=108859173048228567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108859173048228567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7487600/posts/default/108859173048228567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://faulture.blogspot.com/2004/06/one-hundred-other-lovers_30.html' title='one hundred other lovers.'/><author><name>jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04207035282915305586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
