tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65236612011-04-22T09:15:17.181+08:00timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comBlogger521100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-74821665048628192502008-12-07T21:12:00.001+08:002008-12-07T21:50:09.730+08:00

i might be herechange is good.

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-41521721395156040682008-11-24T01:29:00.003+08:002008-11-24T01:34:53.687+08:00

Kinda glad the week is over. Trouble is, I can't wait for the coming week to end too. But in between, there's a lot of life to be lived. Take a deep breath, bring on the madness. We'd skip it if we could, but hey, we've been through worse.

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-31490554688322652862008-11-20T20:30:00.009+08:002008-11-20T21:46:12.997+08:00

Doin' the swap-swap subba-du-wap.Almost bursting into laughter.And very bad hair. Tsk tsk. So fail.I look better.I STILL look better.*grin*____________________________________From cin and I, happy birthday, ditz

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-62397146712557319072008-11-14T16:39:00.005+08:002008-11-14T16:47:40.376+08:00

Talk, talk, talk — that's what most people I see everyday are good at. But when it becomes the only thing they're good at, you can't help but wonder: what exactly are they good for?

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-3531199314507990602008-11-09T17:14:00.001+08:002008-11-09T17:14:51.594+08:00

Outside, the rain goes pitter-patter. Inside, Chris Martin beckons me to abandon my plans for the day. Forget the gym. Screw the haircut. Postpone work. I think about the everyday chop-chop-let’s-get-things-done routine that I’ve grown so used to. It’s a routine that ensures a relatively comfortable life at the end of each month. But true to my Chinese nature, there’s always more to want.And yet,

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-87874182957992042802008-11-08T23:51:00.000+08:002008-11-09T03:49:48.175+08:00

As the last drops in the mug are over and done with, you find yourself back at that familiar place. You circle your fingers around the rim. In the quiet, the questions come back again. Long before, you would have dwelled, analyzed, wondered, dissected, and more often than not, self-destructed. In a long chorus of groans and moans, you would have convinced yourself that there was no meaning

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-19902211367881872532008-09-12T12:09:00.003+08:002008-09-12T12:27:25.101+08:00

My wrist wants that bell & ross, spam wants more music in exchange for her ditziness, my life needs that jackpot.But today, I'll just settle for some peace and quiet to end the week with.

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-73094471369567193962008-09-10T14:02:00.003+08:002008-09-10T14:20:39.195+08:00

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-36550335086552272312008-09-02T11:53:00.004+08:002008-09-02T20:55:12.044+08:00

There's an episode of Mad Men where the protagonist, Don Draper (CD of fictional agency Sterling Cooper), gets courted by McCann. An athletic club membership, golf clubs, a "Yankee Stadium" salary package and seemingly salivating accounts are dangled in front of Don by Jim Hobart, head honcho at McCann.Jim: You're a hard man to run into. The next step is a quiet rendezvous… at the Algonquin

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-91013981824922370652008-08-22T15:42:00.002+08:002008-08-22T15:57:18.434+08:00

In the name of work and our (not-so these days) beloved motherland's independence, I found myself on the back of a truck in the sun and rain, traveling around town, causing traffic jams, accompanied by shouts of "ACTION!", much to the amusement of other road users.I always cuss and swear about how tedious these things are, or how "I can't feel my ass" after plonking it on a wooden crate. But if I

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-58539705653775725412008-08-19T17:42:00.002+08:002008-08-20T10:41:37.666+08:00

I stopped making plans a while ago. Took the little snippets of a future I had previously hoped to live, and chucked them into storage.But it’s not because of some fatalistic melodrama about how everything will never work out.It’s just that after a while, you realize that very few things in life happen according to plan. All of life’s little moments and big dramas — they all contrive to turn the

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-57446587398216642462008-08-14T17:20:00.009+08:002008-08-14T17:46:24.333+08:00

try yours here.

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-10367631668881413742008-08-04T16:10:00.002+08:002008-08-04T21:57:34.058+08:00

I asked mum for some old pics the other day, cos my new pad looks a tad bare and somewhat lacks character, whatever the hell that means in my head. So she gleefully pulled out two shoe boxes of pictures arranged (incorrectly) according to year.Of course, I haven't seen those pics in years. Last I recall seeing them was back in Form 1, when the Ministry of Education had the fantastic idea of

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-43256264733635377222008-07-07T23:08:00.000+08:002008-07-07T23:09:32.554+08:00

I guess it's about honesty. About allowing yourself to feel what you feel, reaching out and realising there are truths in life that too many people try to escape from. That in the end, while your look-on-the-brighter-side optimism may be commendable, it could also be a little too far from the reality that is staring you in the eyes.I suppose we are all made for an expedient purpose. We all have

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-84335791389571202572008-06-19T01:42:00.004+08:002008-06-19T02:12:55.008+08:00

A combination of imaginary faulty brakes, independence day, the fuel increase and my nasty sleeping habit brought me back to a place that once seemed so familiar. It wasn't so long ago, but it feels distant today.I remember when all of this felt new. There was a little spring to my step; a quiet realisation that this is where i've always wanted to be; this is what i've always wanted to do.I

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-20587721389047418262008-05-21T19:09:00.003+08:002008-05-21T19:50:01.310+08:00

on how i feel:Tired. But it'll be worth it. It'll come.It feels better when i keep the earphones on and go about my business in my own world.on work:It's strange how you're reminded of why you signed up for this only when you see people who have no clue why they did. It's a simple thing, at the end of the day. When it warms me up inside, i remember what it's all about.But a lot of times, it isn't

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-52822749913445699822008-04-17T21:19:00.005+08:002008-04-17T21:49:32.942+08:00

I was told that maybe some happy blogging would be nice for a change, so here goes:Those damn things that make me happy:• my macbook• my ipod• manchester united• liverpool losing• rain and quiet• sleeping in• pork, pancakes, bangers, brownies, lollipops• with the right person, in the right place, at the right time, accompanied by minimum conversation but a quiet realization that life is good at

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-45835755442199195882008-04-04T21:21:00.002+08:002008-04-04T22:07:28.777+08:00

Sometimes, life teaches you how to take in more than you think you can. The past month has been long, tiring, testing and in many ways, unfamiliar. And you start to realise that your body can get used to anything.As much as I'd like to believe that an improved behaviour has made things better for my own good, some things will probably always remain. As I wandered with the familiar tunes in my ear

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-41312905230268501512008-02-27T19:03:00.004+08:002008-02-27T19:59:05.276+08:00

So I've just found out that (as always), I was wrong; I did register on time to vote. Considering that my political knowledge/interest ranks close to my ability to draw, I am not sure how to feel about this new development.Having convinced myself that I have done my duties as a responsible citizen by registering (when I'm not busy breaking the law in some way or another), I have spent the past

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-49034798650076619522008-02-15T01:41:00.007+08:002008-02-15T10:49:05.597+08:00

I believe that it's not too hard to make the world a better place. If not the world, then at least someone else's.The Beatles did get it right. Of all their songs that still ring true after all these years, one makes the most sense.If we'd just spend a little more time thinking about the people around us—how we can always reach out with a simple gesture to remind someone that they're never

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-84653589572307055942008-01-24T23:36:00.000+08:002008-01-25T00:12:54.166+08:00

It's been quite a while. And time changes a lot of things.On the flip side, a lot of other things remain good, as they have been all this while. I still have a job that I'm (relatively) happy with. I still have a shelter over my head. The wheels still cart me around well. Manchester United is on top of the table. The macbook still works fine. My ipod is still more important than my phone. Good to

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-84138540111053238842007-11-20T16:01:00.000+08:002007-11-20T16:25:08.025+08:00

Sleep, don't weep, my sweet loveYour face is all wet and your day was roughSo do what you must do to find yourselfWear another shoe, paint my shelfThose times that I was broke, and you stood strongI think I found a place where I...Sleep, don't weep, my sweet loveYour face is all wet 'cause our days were roughSo do what you must do to fill that holeWear another shoe to comfort the soulThose times

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-82741776662649429792007-11-13T11:46:00.001+08:002007-11-13T12:06:20.795+08:00

Sometimes you grow a little tired of everything. No matter how much you sleep, you wake up with a burden on your shoulders. Giving is better than receiving, they say. But it also tires you when it seems that you're the only one on this side of the fence.You have a lot of good things in life, and you'll always be thankful for them. But sometimes things aren't as simple as they seem. You live your

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-69141371922465635142007-10-25T01:07:00.000+08:002007-10-25T11:51:01.618+08:00

Our lives are written in short chapters. There is one for every phase. And then things change. The greatest challenge of all is to take them on – both the good and the bad.Sometimes, you have to remind yourself that nothing lasts forever. And nothing lasts long enough for that matter. All we can do is to appreciate the present, take things as they are, and as the song goes, let it be.Because when

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-86939699614738971342007-09-03T20:46:00.000+08:002007-09-04T23:43:52.621+08:00

The long weekend was significant for two reasons:- I did jack shit- It marks three years of bachelorhood/working full time (in that order)I'm immensely proud of the first reason. I miss doing nothing. Sure, work has been quiet (I've spent most of the recent weekdays looking for album artwork and pimping up my new wife). But I still have to do the walk-up-walk-down-pretend-to-be-deep-in-thought

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-5456134746006000382007-08-01T05:31:00.000+08:002007-08-01T05:57:13.382+08:00

I like dreams. Most of the time, it's a nice place to be. I can wake up feeling a little better, knowing that I escaped to somewhere else. If the system let me check in, I would. But it's not very nice when all you get recently are dreams of the more disturbing variety. If I believed the interpretations, then it's true; I'm losing my mind. Judging by the things that I've had to deal with when I'm

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-55439137627294051752007-07-10T01:25:00.000+08:002007-07-10T00:27:51.972+08:00

It's way too late to think ofSomeone I would call nowAnd neon signs got tiredRed eye flights help the stars outI'm safe in a cornerJust hours before meI'm waking with the roachesThe world has surrenderedI'm dating ancient ghostsThe ones I made friends withThe comfort of firefliesLong gone before daylightAnd if I had one wish fulfilled tonightI'd ask for the sun to never riseIf God leant his voice

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-16884947836565692792007-06-18T23:40:00.000+08:002007-06-19T16:52:06.187+08:00

I'm never too sure if I'll always say the right thingsEveryone knows I'm a little retarded that wayBut hold your pinky out and I'll promiseIf everything ends we'll always smile about yesterdayI can't tell you I'll always be thereYou know me, some days I just want to disappearBut when we're lying down in this silence togetherThere are few places that comfort me betterI can't promise you

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-23852935522482928542007-06-12T16:13:00.000+08:002007-06-12T16:36:59.429+08:00

Now that all the many ways that you occupy your daysHave left you without hopeYou're caught between the way and not knowing the wayAnd you don't know which you need the mostYou're listening for the distant wavesAnd watching all the stars coming downThe kind of things you do when you think that nobody wants to see you aroundAnd i can see it in your eyesLike i can see it the skies of these constant

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-5860821724238125462007-06-06T14:50:00.000+08:002007-06-08T11:27:50.197+08:00

I remember the days when we had the time to sit down together and laugh at the world. Now, we find ourselves fighting new, unfamiliar battles. And at the worst of times, it seems like the world is laughing back.Because sometimes we don't know what's wrong, or whether there's anything wrong at all. It could just be us; our emptiness a permanent scar that dries up and bleeds as it wishes. When we

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-87644688939846496942007-05-24T13:18:00.000+08:002007-05-24T13:40:57.580+08:00

So the getaway's over. It was nice while it lasted, but it'd have been nice to escape this reality completely. Don't be too greedy, I suppose.Being away showed me that there are plenty of other things to see and feel, apart from the things that we're so used to everyday. There are things that I know I miss, but while I can't have them, it's nice to have something else for a while.But of course,

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-55969252330387119362007-04-27T00:36:00.000+08:002007-04-27T01:18:59.417+08:00

I'm not too sure how we got to May so quickly. It has been a good start to the year, but somehow it always seems that our time is running out again.So before it does run out, i've been lucky enough to get to go missing for a while. Looking back, it has been too long; and i don't remember how it feels like. Hopefully, this will fix a lot of things. Sometimes, you don't realise you have to run away

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-63360389395283541742007-03-27T15:55:00.000+08:002007-03-27T16:08:42.284+08:00

Hopefully, today will be the beginning of the return to sanity. I'm not asking for much. All i want is for it to end for a while. I think we deserve that, at the very least.Because there's a world out there. There's the arcades, quiet cafes, bookstores, rain and parks, my bed, ice cream and sunshine, empty notebook pages, albums i've yet to pay attention to, you to dream about, friends i haven't

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-29617818990027583962007-02-28T02:02:00.000+08:002007-02-28T11:42:49.493+08:00

Another long day, another night of reluctanceSome days are easier, some are harderI'll whisper those three words again laterHoping that tomorrow, it will be neither

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-38084249534432426082007-02-13T15:35:00.001+08:002007-02-13T15:35:50.919+08:00

Love is in that someone who’ll make you smile when you wake up in the morning. Whose hair you want to smell. The hand you want to hold in your sleep. The forehead you want to kiss. It’s in the waist where your hand belongs. Whose body fits snugly with yours in a cuddle.Love is the place where you’ve both found your safe spot in this big, big world. Of unspoken promises and silent declarations. It

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-85219042051686582372007-02-12T00:41:00.000+08:002007-02-12T00:56:50.374+08:00

It's like how you learn to ride a bike. You get on and there's be a hand helping you balance. It feels like your own little trip to the moon. You're really just a few pedals away from anywhere.But of course, before all that, you learn how to fall on your sorry ass. And how to get up again.And then, sooner or later, you'll be able to leave the hand behind.But you never wonder how the damn bike

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-89307471613047324452007-02-07T17:49:00.000+08:002007-02-07T17:51:47.014+08:00

I have a spell cheque functionIt came with my PCIt plainly marques for my revueMistakes I cannot sea.I strike a key and type a wordAnd weight for it two sayWeather I am wrong or writeIt shows me strait away.As soon as a mistake is maidIt nose before two longAnd I can put the error riteIts never, ever wrong.I have run this poem threw itI am shore you're pleased to noIt's letter perfect to the

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-78808100278198965712007-01-26T01:07:00.000+08:002007-01-26T01:21:03.749+08:00

When i was younger, i used to imagine how life would be. Needless to say, i never imagined that i'll be here today.It's not easy, is it? You and i know that more than anyone. We've never been through poverty and hunger, but to each his/her own. We have our own battles to fight.But above all, things could be worse. The cup can be completely empty. So maybe it's time to take stock on the better

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-17275692405566980842007-01-21T16:22:00.000+08:002007-01-21T16:30:52.769+08:00

You remember how things were not too long ago?I do.

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-42316198851889236542007-01-15T21:54:00.000+08:002007-01-15T21:56:05.732+08:00

i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job. i love my job.

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-24316031862604539902007-01-05T14:39:00.000+08:002008-12-10T06:54:14.124+08:00

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-46796332719794452722006-12-31T14:57:00.000+08:002006-12-31T15:15:23.900+08:00

So we're here again. As with all other major celebrations in my life, today's an appropriate day to feel emo.It's been a good year. Could've been much better, but it was good. And i guess that's good enough.But i'm not sure what to make of this year and the coming one. There's a lot of apprehension and i don't know if it's coming at the right time.Still, life doesn't wait for our issues to fade

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-1166684736246140122006-12-21T14:59:00.000+08:002006-12-21T15:07:13.483+08:00

#2.1One day, it will all make sense. We will see the point. #2.2There is a greater being watching down on us.#2.3Not everyone will find someone. Some because they're fussy, some unfortunate. #2.4Everyone has something to give to the world. #2.5There's good in everybody. But our worlds bring the worse out of us.#2.6Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. #2.7Silence is a good place to be.

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-1165996290223240562006-12-13T15:48:00.000+08:002006-12-13T15:51:30.236+08:00

On certain days, I get paid to lounge my lazy ass on some plush Italian leather, get an OSIM chair massage and munch on M&M's. Unfortunately, these days don't come by often enough. But when they do, it's easy to think that people in this business get paid (sometimes obscene amounts) to sit around, crack mindless, immature jokes and pretend to know what we're doing. Which is, of course,

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-1165212446268354282006-12-04T13:41:00.000+08:002006-12-04T14:12:03.976+08:00

So suddenly we're going to "wage war on Ah Longs", after some crackpot decides to serve his kids klorox soup and cooking gas for dinner. What about those fuckheads who ride around town in their stupid bikes oh mr deputy pm? Incidentally, they are your fellow Melayus. I almost knocked one down the other night by the way, after he decided to stop in the middle of the fucking road to have a lovely

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-1164165779454722652006-11-22T11:07:00.000+08:002006-11-22T11:22:59.580+08:00

Accidental Babies - Damien Rice, from the new album, 9Well I held you like a loverHappy hands and your elbow in the appropriate place And we ignored our others, happy plansFor that delicate look upon your face Our bodies moved and hardenedHurting parts of your gardenWith no room for a pardonIn a place where no one knows what we have done Do you comeTogether ever with him?And is he dark enough?

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-1163924392614096462006-11-19T16:01:00.000+08:002006-11-19T16:35:49.976+08:00

#1 I need my own space.#2 I need broadband in my own space so I can download tunes.#3 The more people I meet, the more I prefer to be alone.#4 The harder I work, the more determined I am to make it and get out.#5 The more I sleep, the more I hate being awake.#6 The longer I am here, the more I want to run to some place else. #7The more I feel, the more painful it becomes.#8The more people we know

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-1163393168153144312006-11-13T12:45:00.000+08:002006-11-13T13:54:12.580+08:00

You know, some days I wake up in the mornings and I hope to see you. Slumbered beside me, with your hair all messed up. I want to see you still. With your eyes closed, your lips just partly open. This way, you will never leave. Some days I start the day and I know I can't do it anymore. I feel inadequate, incomplete, ordinary. And I think of you. I miss you and I wish you were here to make it

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-1163006117759894132006-11-09T01:00:00.001+08:002006-11-09T01:15:17.810+08:00

sometimes

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-1160495360862068952006-10-10T23:30:00.001+08:002006-10-10T23:49:20.883+08:00

I've been feeling pretty bloody bummed out recently. The mental tiredness is bearable most of the time, but i think it's the physical bit that's been draining me.Top that with some general feeling of unhappiness about certain things, and you have a pretty decent recipe for an unreasonably cranky boy. It's not healthy to be on the verge of snapping half of the time i know, but urggh. I guess all

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-1159088929393229542006-09-24T16:44:00.000+08:002006-09-24T17:30:58.706+08:00

It seems that life just knows how to give you more than what you can possibly handle at the worst possible times, in one big avalanche of unfortunate incidents. The past few weeks have been eventful, to say the least. But we survived, knowing that it can (and will) happen all over again.When we sat down and gave it some thought, it was difficult not to conclude that it's about fucking time we

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6523661.post-1155316326682480972006-08-12T00:54:00.000+08:002006-08-12T01:18:29.900+08:00

A combination of things over the past few days have been pretty...strange. Maybe it's one of those moments when you know you're growing (for the lack of a better word) older. I don't know. But things do look better from this place. So I decided that it's time to start over. The old posts are all gone because somehow, I don't really want them to be around anymore. It's nice to start again.

timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14843436926656032781noreply@blogger.com