<?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-318973520245391054</id><updated>2011-08-05T17:13:40.955-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Spilled Wine</title><subtitle type='html'>Just another online journal that's waiting for new people to talk to.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>58</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-4936275610740334205</id><published>2010-11-07T21:17:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-07T21:18:48.862-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been a while.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I've been happy for the longest time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, I want to curl up and sleep with no worries whatsoever. Crying has become second nature to me. I hate this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-4936275610740334205?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/4936275610740334205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-been-while.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4936275610740334205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4936275610740334205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s been a while.'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-5574306190519809198</id><published>2010-05-10T08:30:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T09:08:34.214-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#48 If You Believe...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;...that you belong with her, promise me, you won't let anyone hurt you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hello, it's been a while. :) I hope everyone spent thier Mothers' Day well. Even if you didn't do anything, I hope you guys had a great weekend. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Anyways, I recently made a tumblr which is open to my friends and everyone. I actually like the layout more than blogspot, because I can just reblog other posts that feel the same way without really typing out a lot. But doing this is fine too. :D I can release myself a bit more with words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;So, my psychology course is coming to an end soon, and I'm really excited about that. I feel like my overthinking problem is actually starting to get under control. I learned how to be more open-minded to more possibilities and not to narrow down based on the little things. It can all just be a coincidence afterall. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Recently, I fell back in love with an old old old crush. I've actually liked him for two years, but seeing him again rekindled that feeling. He was never mine, and I was never his, but oh what we could've been! He has a girlfriend, but regardless, I confessed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Stupid move? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Maybe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;But I always wondered for 2 years what it would be like if I confessed and returned his feelings. And now I know the relief of it all. I'm still two years too late...but that's okay. Slowly, I'll come around - well, if he doesn't that is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I was pretty devastated when I recently lost this ring he gave me. :( I didn't take it too well...but I held everything in. I let it later though, cause I learned that crying was a good way to relieve yourself. Though, whenever I think about that ring, every memory flushes through me. Even now, I feel upset, but I know I'll never find it again. No way I'll find it in such a busy place as Mott &amp;amp; Canal St. :( Sigh. My aorta aches. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Love,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Jay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-5574306190519809198?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/5574306190519809198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/05/48-if-you-believe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5574306190519809198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5574306190519809198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/05/48-if-you-believe.html' title='#48 If You Believe...'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-2828413404097674701</id><published>2010-03-15T21:34:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T22:02:04.421-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#47 My Heart as a Souvenir</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I've been having amazing days lately. Days that I think I've been taking for granted or that I feel like I'm bringing down due to my own tiredness. Haha. I wish I knew how to up my mood more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weekends ago, I celebrated my birthday. I took everyone to karaoke and treated them to dinner at Carmine's. I love Italian food, so I really really enjoyed eating. I was really happy that everyone enjoyed eating and singing. Well, except for the first half - my friend was kind of pooping my party. But it was all because she wanted me to give her attention, she told me. I understand. Haha. I guess I'm not good at balancing friends as I credit myself for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend, on the 13th, I skipped my psychology class. But only cause it was raining really hard and I was extremely tired. I felt like I needed a day off - so I took it. Later that night, I went to my friend's birthday party and met a lot of people there. They were all from her school and I didn't know anyone there. I felt kind of like an outcast, but not really. I talked to majority of them, but they mostly kept together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the beginning of the party - well, before the party started, my friend was really stressed because a lot of people didn't know how to get there. Their parents refused to drive them because of the bad weather, so she had to figure out a way to get them all to her party. She ended up being late to her own party and apologized so much to her parents and her friends. Then, her friend showed up and was mad at her - which was really messed up. No matter how angry you are at them, you always and must be happy for your friend, especially a party as big as a Sweet 16.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend started crying and I comforted her inside the room while her friend was outside. Then I went outside and kind of scolded her. She got the idea and started being a good sport and everything fell into place. Her party ended up being fun and she enjoyed it. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt really good because I socialized and helped her with her party. My party didn't really go the way I wanted, but I tried very hard to not let that one friend ruin my night. So I'm happy that I can help her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met this one guy who was really just sitting by himself when everyone was prank calling someone they didn't like. When I asked him why he didn't join them, he said he didn't want to be part of the haters. I liked that. A lot. Cause secretly in my head, I was thinking that they were being very stupid for pranking someone like that. I kind of just sat with him and we played cards. It was kind of a kodak moment and he was witty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to talk to him more - so I found him on facebook and got his screen name for AIM. But when I IMed him, I froze completely.&lt;br /&gt;Odd.&lt;br /&gt;How does one wanna talk to someone so much, but freeze when the moment comes? It really is odd. When I find out how this science works, I'll let you know. ;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I hate losing an hour. It fucks up my biological clock, by like, a lot. When I wake up at 4:40 AM now, I'm so hyper, because my "sleeping mode" hasn't kicked in and thinks that it's "napping mode". Am I making sense? Don't think I am. But when I'm in school, I'm ready to hit the hay by the time lunch is here. Just gotta get used to everything - that's what life mostly is. Accessing and adapting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm an overthinker. How do I stop overthinking? That's on my To-Do List. The date of completion is still a work in progress. I'll let you know how it goes. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-2828413404097674701?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/2828413404097674701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/03/47-my-heart-as-souvenir.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2828413404097674701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2828413404097674701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/03/47-my-heart-as-souvenir.html' title='#47 My Heart as a Souvenir'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-7332046209904496173</id><published>2010-02-27T12:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T13:13:45.651-05:00</updated><title type='text'>#46 Gotta Gotta Be Down, Cause I Want It All</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Dunno why I'm writing more blogs these two days...hm.&lt;br /&gt;Must investigate this further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I just got out of my psychology class about an hour ago and I discovered that a lot of the things I write in here are solvable. I just gotta be rational about my situation and become more open. :). For example, right now, the most drama occurring is kinda one-sided. My one side. Which makes me feel pathetic and ignored.&lt;br /&gt;My friend is like the leader of this clique...and I'm kind of pushed aside and my ideas and thoughts get ignored. This makes me the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dissenter&lt;/span&gt; - as psychologists would say.&lt;br /&gt;I annoy her with my actions...only cause she annoys me with hers. And I guess I'm a little more mean to her because I feel ignored.&lt;br /&gt;I keep trying to convince myself that I don't care whether or not I'm in this stupid clique or not, but I'm pretty sure that some part of me wishes I was accepted. Well, not accepted, but at least to eliminate the tension between us.&lt;br /&gt;Cause you know, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everyone &lt;/span&gt;follows the leader. If she thinks a boy is cute, even though he's butt-ugly, they will start to think he's cute. But I don't...that's why I'm ignored and I feel this pressure to be one of them. I hate the feeling - so I dispute it by speaking up and pointing out the obvious, which they don't like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This can be solved - I know it can. I just don't know how yet. I tried to talk to her about it, but she's like, "I know. I don't care."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She thinks I'm making a big deal out of it...but I just really don't want there to be anything up between us. Also, my birthday is coming up - so she's invited, and if she's not there, one group won't be there. I can have fun without them - but I feel like it'll be even more fun with them there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, end of that crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was cruising around blogger today and noticed that a lot of the blogs here are parents who are recording their babies life.&lt;br /&gt;Why do they do that? Why put them on the internet for people to read about? Not that I'm against it, I'm just really curious.&lt;br /&gt;Cause I put my blogs up so I can release my emotions and get feedback (even though there's like, none) from people. That way I can look back and improve myself.&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's just me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're a parent who does that, let me know why. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-7332046209904496173?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/7332046209904496173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/46-gotta-gotta-be-down-cause-i-want-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7332046209904496173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7332046209904496173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/46-gotta-gotta-be-down-cause-i-want-it.html' title='#46 Gotta Gotta Be Down, Cause I Want It All'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-4544553022707979565</id><published>2010-02-26T21:38:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T21:51:44.572-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Snowman =)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/S4iGOOklLRI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/W7y-jc9bbU8/s1600-h/IMG_6153.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/S4iGOOklLRI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/W7y-jc9bbU8/s400/IMG_6153.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442747728665062674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Is it just me or was is the sky extremely beautiful and blue? Haha, no effects added. :) I just love how the branches look right now. I wish I can draw or paint this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/S4iFDzCEXOI/AAAAAAAAAGA/8FuBi9DHWuY/s1600-h/IMG_6151.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/S4iFDzCEXOI/AAAAAAAAAGA/8FuBi9DHWuY/s400/IMG_6151.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442746449962228962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My &lt;/span&gt;snowman! He looks so cool with his top hat and 3D glasses. Lol. I had a lot of fun making it even if I looked like a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/S4iGNg5gVOI/AAAAAAAAAGI/J9viVgUVgvQ/s1600-h/IMG_6154.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/S4iGNg5gVOI/AAAAAAAAAGI/J9viVgUVgvQ/s400/IMG_6154.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442747716404794594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Hmmm, I should probably give him a name, but he's gonna melt away anyways. So, I dunno!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;It's like a routine. I fall for you on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;I like you from Tuesday to Thursday. You make me mad on Friday.&lt;br /&gt;I think I've over you over the weekend&lt;br /&gt;But the second I see you on Monday morning, I fall for you again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; font-weight: 400; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous; color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: normal;font-family:'Arial';font-size:85%;"  &gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-4544553022707979565?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/4544553022707979565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-snowman.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4544553022707979565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4544553022707979565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-snowman.html' title='My Snowman =)'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/S4iGOOklLRI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/W7y-jc9bbU8/s72-c/IMG_6153.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-2269505585185891610</id><published>2010-02-26T21:27:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T21:38:36.718-05:00</updated><title type='text'>#45 Boom Boom Pow!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Haha, I have no idea why I titled this entry after a Black Eyed Peas song. Today, was a fairytale! Nah, just kidding. But today was wonderful! I stayed up late last night finishing up all my homework and my sister woke me up at 6:30 and I started freaking out, cause usually I'm up at 4:40 AM. But then I checked my phone and got a bagillion texts telling me it's a snow day!&lt;br /&gt;I ran around shouting No School! and collapsed on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel stupid, but accomplished for doing all my work. I still have class tomorrow though...!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a snowman today outside. I felt like a little kid. There are hardly any children in my neighborhood and there's just no spirit! But when I built that snow man, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;man oh man&lt;/span&gt;, it felt great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I lounged around at home and relaxed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that I'll build a snowdino tomorrow or an igloo!&lt;br /&gt;I'll post up a picture of my snow man later :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-2269505585185891610?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/2269505585185891610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/45-boom-boom-pow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2269505585185891610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2269505585185891610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/45-boom-boom-pow.html' title='#45 Boom Boom Pow!'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-3607949688192830213</id><published>2010-02-21T23:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T23:28:32.511-05:00</updated><title type='text'>#44 I Know the Scars on Your Legs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Where do I begin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's still the topic of my conversation, it annoys me and I can't help it. I told him to never talk to me again, yet I find myself opening an IM box with his screen name as the recipient...typing some words and then closing the box again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always forever changing my mind, aren't I? I wish I was someone more stable. How do I do this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did IM him today. I said Goodnight, cause he usually signs off at 11. His exact words were "Get the fuck away from me." Like I was some disease, infection, virus, etc. Perhaps I am. But...how do I do this? How do I get away from him when my thoughts are pretty filled with him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His ex ended up never reading this blog, btw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told my friend that I catch myself bringing him up in conversations a lot, especially if we're doing some activity that he and I did in the past. She didn't look happy that I was talking about him...again. More like she was annoyed that I kept being stupid about my actions despite the fact that I know I should do better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had break last week. Today is my last day. I crammed all my homework, and I'm still working on it. But right now I'm procrastinating...like the normal teenager. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, the my friend (same friend from above) and I walked along Broadway from 134th St to 42nd St. It was a relaxing 92 block walk...but my feet ache now. I think I mentioned him like a little less than 10x while we were walking. And I was suppressing my thoughts too...so if I wasn't, there'd be more to say about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish there was someone to guide me. Like when you are a child, your parents and teacher tell you what to do to get a gold star.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I hung over him? Or do I just want to talk to him like a friend? But I already broke him, so he won't want to talk to me again. He said I was like a drug before. He dropped me, he's sober.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What should I do? Is there anyone out there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-3607949688192830213?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/3607949688192830213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/44-i-know-scars-on-your-legs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/3607949688192830213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/3607949688192830213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/44-i-know-scars-on-your-legs.html' title='#44 I Know the Scars on Your Legs'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-5370334323530877691</id><published>2010-02-06T22:38:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T23:22:06.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>#43 That Part of Me Left Yesterday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I broke up with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I wish I didn't...but I know it's that withdrawal shit you go through after something big. After a few weeks, I know that feeling will be gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I told my sister about our break up, she said, "Good. You always settle for less when you could go for more." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Always&lt;/span&gt;...she said. So this means that she felt this way about my past relationships too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I'm typing this, his ex before me is probably reading this. Yes, he decided to show his ex my blog. I feel like I'm a fucking TV show or a book that's picked up by random teenagers to read for their own entertainment. I should feel flattered that someone finds this interesting enough to share it with their friend(s), but I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, he told me that his ex and her boyfriend broke up on the same day we did. Maybe this means something? Oh boy, I hope this does. That'd be rather cute and surreal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Ah,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Whatever.&lt;/span&gt; I shouldn't care anymore. I still do. But I'll get over it. I'm going to continue writing as if his ex or him aren't reading this. I must say, I'm doing rather well. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend and I enrolled in an Intro Into Psychology course offered to students at my grade. Today was my first class, and I was really nervous and excited. I thumbed through half of my psychology textbook already. It helps me understand myself and others better and all this critical thinking is very interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This place is the only place I will let myself loose - aside from individualization moments. Yeah, this place is my own therapist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm, aside from that. I haven't been eating much or anything at all. Nor have I been getting any sleep at all. I do remember my dreams when I sleep though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past week, I think I only slept a total of 15 hours in 5 days. Some people probably sleep less and sleep some in class - but I'm so alert even when the topic is boring. I don't even sleep on the train. When I get my sleep, I dream about the most bizarre situations, but I don't remember them now. I just know they were strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't eat much of anything, except snacking on a banana or two. Today, however, I ate a fair amount. Enough to be called a healthy meal at least. My friend and I walked around Times Square after class because we have nothing better to do. So we snacked on some peanuts, chocolate and we even bought breakfast before class - although we didn't finish it.&lt;br /&gt;So, no worries...I'm still getting some form of nutrition in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm running out of things to say. My life is boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued...Lol, get it? Like a TV show?&lt;br /&gt;......yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-5370334323530877691?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/5370334323530877691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/43-that-part-of-me-left-yesterday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5370334323530877691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5370334323530877691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/43-that-part-of-me-left-yesterday.html' title='#43 That Part of Me Left Yesterday'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-397448345720494197</id><published>2010-02-01T22:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T23:00:23.684-05:00</updated><title type='text'>#42 I Feel Her Too</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Hello again. I'm sorry I left...well at least I know I have someone reading this - although they're probably gone now because they think I'm gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I can ever leave this blog, it's my baby. And the name just fits so well - I can't think of another name. I only wrote one entry in the other blog...and it was a stupid entry, pointless, so you didn't miss out on much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's going on right now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the main question I have in my head is do i stalk drama? Why do I fuck around people's lives?&lt;br /&gt;Back before I started dating him, he told me to get over him - and I did. I think I really did get over him and when he asked me out, I thought that maybe I can fall for him again, but I really don't think I did. Dunno, I'm forever changing my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said it's like he's dating a drug addict, and I'm addicted to complications. If he were actually dating an addict, he would stop me, but at the same time, he would know it's unhealthy for him. When I pointed that out, he said it doesn't matter - that he loves me anyway. I love him, like I love everyone else. I'm not in love with him. Two very different things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha, this is why I'll probably never ever get married, cause I think too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on break for the past week, and I have not slept well at all. It's been extremely restless. Last night was the first night that I slept comfortably, but it wasn't even in my own home (sleepover). Last night was also the first night I remembered a dream in a long time - and it creeped me out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had two dreams, the first dream isn't really important. It was about a pedophile. But the second dream was about my dad. He was dying, really dying. It scares me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always kind of brush off my past and the fact that my father or mother, or both, might die by the time I graduate. But lately it's just in front of my face. It's been like that since I talked about it with one of my girlfriends. It finally hit me, smacked me in the face, gave me an uppercut and dislocated my jaw, that my parents might be gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad's condition just keeps deteriorating, and he's doing it to himself. Smoking and keeping to himself in the basement...the filthy basement where the dogs piss. His coughs, I feel, can be heard from a mile away. He says it's not because he smokes, but allergies. There's nothing to be allergic to during the winter.&lt;br /&gt;I am so scared. Of seeing my dad like the way I saw in my dream. Of going to school and failing. Of finding out my future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I can be abducted by ninjas and told that I'm actually some kind of Cinderella and then have a narrator pop up and say, "She lived happily ever after. The End."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-397448345720494197?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/397448345720494197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/42-i-feel-her-too.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/397448345720494197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/397448345720494197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/02/42-i-feel-her-too.html' title='#42 I Feel Her Too'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-5238006635600220496</id><published>2010-01-18T00:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T21:53:23.977-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#40 At least...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hey everyone.&lt;br /&gt;Spilled-Wine has MOVED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Thanks for reading, for those who actually follow it. I'm not running away just cause he found it...or maybe I am. Whatever. I think there are somethings in life where people should be able to keep to themselves. It's not essential in a relationship for your significant other to know &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; in your life. I think that's too excessive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've so much thinking and have tons to share with you. But just not exactly with everyone. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, here's what he had to say about my blog...&lt;br /&gt;He said he was so happy to find my blog - but the next day he was upset because I said I wouldn't write anymore. He offered to never look at my blog again. But I'm not gonna trust that, because there's still a possibility. Haha. Honestly,  I don't care what he feels. This is going to sound really selfish, I mean &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;extremely &lt;/span&gt;selfish. But I care about how I feel...when I write in here. If I don't feel happy or secure or am not able to write my thoughts in here, then I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;will&lt;/span&gt; stop writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;At least...&lt;/span&gt;I reached entry #40. Haha. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Come find me again.&lt;/span&gt; ...if you really want to know where I am. I don't know. Do whatever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;P.S. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Please Please Please find me. Haha. &lt;/span&gt;I'd be bored talking to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-5238006635600220496?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/5238006635600220496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/01/40-at-least.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5238006635600220496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5238006635600220496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/01/40-at-least.html' title='#40 At least...'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-715373974791880089</id><published>2010-01-01T00:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T00:38:39.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>#39 I'll Be Back Somday After My Holiday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Well. He found it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello you. You're gonna change my writing from now on. Now I have to monitor everything I say. Every entry I write, I have to keep you as an audience in mind. You impact what I write, since what I write is mostly my life, and you. This is why I never wanted to tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you all for reading.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully #40 will arrive depending on if I'm in the spirits of writing anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With love always,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-715373974791880089?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/715373974791880089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/01/39-ill-be-back-somday-after-my-holiday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/715373974791880089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/715373974791880089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2010/01/39-ill-be-back-somday-after-my-holiday.html' title='#39 I&apos;ll Be Back Somday After My Holiday'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-2044616807952957773</id><published>2009-12-31T21:11:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T21:53:18.627-05:00</updated><title type='text'>#38 In Darkness, She Is All I See</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Embrace for a very messy, scattered, unorganized entry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him I love him. Mistake right from the beginning? Perhaps. I'll find out. He's currently on a mission to find my blog. Haha, I don't think he'll find it. But if he does, he's in for a big surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to tell him about this, no matter what. I know he's upset at me for not letting him know. I don't think he understands how much this blog, writing in here, means to me. I just want something of my own, something private. Why am I not allowed to keep a secret, part of my life away from someone I love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to him, there are no secrets between the person you love. He said he would tell me everything if I wanted to know. That he grants my wishes, if he can, but his wishes are never fulfilled. This guilt-tripping nonsense - I am so sick of it. My sister, mother, father, everyone always guilts me. I really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do not&lt;/span&gt; need my own boyfriend to do this to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on slightly...&lt;br /&gt;Infatuation was a big part of my life. Obsession...lust. One will lead to the other. It's hard to differentiate between being in love and being infatuated. In a previous relationship, I was infatuated with my ex. So deeply infatuated that I hurt myself and him. I was obsessive and possessive, so I don't want to be like that anymore. I'm trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how do these two things play into my current relationship? Well, I'm trying to identify whether I actually do love him or if it's just lust. I know I often confuse these things. It frustrates me. I want to know, I need to know so I can stop it. How does it feel? How do I know? I want the answers. Blogging being a secret - is he not special enough? Yes, he is. But I want him to find it...I think that'll make it rewarding and even more special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relationships are so icky. Why do I even bother with them when I doubt myself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I write in here when I feel lost. Upset. Angry. Frustrated. Just need to rant. Lost, but found by whoever passes by. Even just a quick glance...a once in a lifetime comment - it was still found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Agh, I can't believe I wrote such a depressing entry on &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; when it's New Years' Eve. Well, whatever. What's started must be finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I go talking about him again...&lt;br /&gt;Maybe he doesn't know life as much as I credited him to. As I'm with him more, I realize there's still a pretty young part of him. He's just a thinker. The problem with his last relationship was that it was a job for him. Well, in my opinion...he made it a job to 'teach' her (his ex) love. When you make relationships into a chore, you know it's wrong. No one likes chores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish he would stop talking like he knows everything. Like he knows more than me, because he doesn't know if I do know more or not. Vice versa, but I don't go running my mouth like I'm fucking Ghandi. I only do that when I'm absolutely sure I know more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough about this. I'm done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Years' Eve! Talk to you guys next year! ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I think guilt will end up getting the best of me. I'll probably end of telling him because I feel bad that he's angry at me. Like I said, I'm a people-pleaser. I gotta stop that. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-2044616807952957773?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/2044616807952957773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/12/38-in-darkness-she-is-all-i-see.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2044616807952957773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2044616807952957773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/12/38-in-darkness-she-is-all-i-see.html' title='#38 In Darkness, She Is All I See'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-5128254605638841410</id><published>2009-12-15T22:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T22:29:59.269-05:00</updated><title type='text'>#37 I'm Breaking Habits, You Don't Wanna Know</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I was and am always a "live above the influence" person. I would scold friends who would smoke and get themselves into trouble cause of that. I smoked pot. My first time, but I didn't get high cause I left early. I knew I would've stayed if my sister wasn't going to meet me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not the type to smoke. I'm not a smoker. But it was a young and stupid thing, but I know I'll do it again. Everyone, well most people, in my school do smoke pot. They're really cool and I guess that gets to me, but not just me, everyone else too. They look cool, they are cool, they are exclusive. You just wanna be a part of it - even if it is stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like being part of the crowd - followers? A rebel, I guess. But if you're in a school where most students are rebels already, then if you are a rebel, you'll be a follower. So, I get confused and lost along the way. That's what high school is, you lose yourself, you find yourself, you lose yourself again. It's a continuous cycle until you've repeated those actions so much to the point where you know exactly what you want to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's also a problem. Searching, looking, pursuing...a person, goal, etc. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Just stop&lt;/span&gt;. Everyone needs to stop, take a break. Sniff the roses (well, not if you're allergic). You get what I mean. I wish every moment was a Kodak moment, a snapshot of simplicity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh god, here I am talking about simplicity when I'm about to move on to a more complicated matter [insert dramatic sound effect].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He and I are dating. I know. I said would get over him. But I knew, know that he didn't want me to. My big sib likes him, but even she knew it was inevitable that he and I would go out. I felt horrible. I was covered with guilt, but I couldn't bring myself to give him up.&lt;br /&gt;Today, she confessed to him. They walked around Central Park, holding hands. She cried to him and kissed him on the cheek before she left. When he told me this, I didn't feel a bit jealous. I was actually sad. I sympathized with her. Loving someone who loved his ex and then having your friend snatch him away. Love is stubborn and ugly. It's also beautiful and patient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're only in high school right? So why does this all matter? You're gonna break up anyways. Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Wrong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. It matters because it build character. You are learning, experiencing, making mistakes, and being responsible all at once. It prepares you for that one person in the future, who you will take the hand of to marry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong. I don't love him. I told him I don't. I, myself, don't know what love is. Am I in love? Maybe, I don't know. I can say I love you very easily to anyone, everyone - but I refuse to tell him I love him. Because I don't want to hesitate, or say it emptily. I want to be absolutely positive that I do love him when I tell him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm talking too much. This week needs to go by faster so winter break can settle in. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-5128254605638841410?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/5128254605638841410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/12/37-im-breaking-habits-you-dont-wanna.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5128254605638841410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5128254605638841410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/12/37-im-breaking-habits-you-dont-wanna.html' title='#37 I&apos;m Breaking Habits, You Don&apos;t Wanna Know'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-6149849994409548171</id><published>2009-11-08T22:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T23:08:42.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'>#36 When Flowers Gaze at You</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I plan on writing a book one day. But there's so much to write about and not enough paper in the world. If I were to write about one event in my life, I would feel a need to write about another event that happened at the same time - or near the same time. However, those two events would be completely irrelevant to each other. Every event has a story, whether it's a short one or long one, so I feel like it always needs to be told - or at least written down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had a voice recorder. The type you can carry around with an A side and B side. So I can record everything I'm saying or doing for my book. That'd be pretty cool. No, what'd be even cooler is if something can record my thoughts. It could be a bad thing for thoughts to be recorded, but it can also be a good thing. I can list of bunch of reasons for either sides, but I'm a little lazy right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's another problem. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Laziness.&lt;/span&gt; My arch enemy. I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; to write a book, but I get lazy. I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; to upload my blog on a regular basis, but I get lazy. I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; to have my homework done, but I get lazy. Where are the Fairy Oddparents when you need them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;I heard that every single time you sigh, you lose an ounce of happiness. I think that statement is somewhat contradicting to another statement: "You can't measure happiness". Although it's contradicting, I still like the concept and sometimes believe it. I try not to sigh often, but I do so anyways. Not because I'm sad, but it's just something I do when I'm being thoughtful. I'm sure everyone does something like that - gestures that people mistaken for something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got into a small argument with my sister today about where to put the cardboard. I used the cardboard for my architecture class. I left it on the dining room table since no one uses it anyway and she told me keep it in my room because it was an eyesore for her. I told her, it's an eyesore for me in my room because my room is even smaller than the living room. She guilt-tripped me, reminding me that she didn't need to live in the house and the only reason she's here is because of me.&lt;br /&gt;She sounds exactly like my mother, yet she always complains about her.&lt;br /&gt;" &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;THE Mother&lt;/span&gt; always guilt-trips me into doing [insert errand here] for and I'm just so sick of it," she says. But here she is, doing the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I'll be gone in 2 and a half years - so her complaints about living at home would be gone too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Autumn and winter are my favorite seasons. The trees are no longer cloaked with leaves, so you see their long slender fingers reach toward the sky. Some reach downward, towards you - begging you to join their skyward reach. I wish I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have school tomorrow. I don't have school on Wednesday. I'm trying out for the school Talent Show. I'll be playing Boston by Augustana on piano. My friend on guitar. Finding someone for vocals. I'm excited - practicing everyday. =).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll end my entry here.&lt;br /&gt;Oh wait - Hi Leo. Hi Austin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for reading my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-6149849994409548171?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/6149849994409548171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/11/36-when-flowers-gaze-at-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6149849994409548171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6149849994409548171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/11/36-when-flowers-gaze-at-you.html' title='#36 When Flowers Gaze at You'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-6841885801285439936</id><published>2009-11-03T23:27:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T23:57:55.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'>#35 Please Be Sure to Read the Fine Print</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; much to say, but I am so exhausted and I really need to sleep. So, I will sum everything up in the best way that I can and it probably won't be orderly because I go off in a lot of tangents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, I put one of my dogs in a shelter. I have three dogs and one of them was a stray that followed me home. The neighbors always complain about him and my sister doesn't like him a lot either - he's gone now. There's not a single day where I don't think about him. I do miss him and I hope he finds a good home despite his aggression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH I FORGOT. HAPPY BELATED HALLOWEEN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, secondly - I will try to move on with my love life. I can delay, but time will not wait. I am a person that enjoys living in the moment and I want someone who can do the same; however, he has always been a man of the past - holding onto his ex. But we had an enlightening talk. I have to say, we have quite a unique relationship.&lt;br /&gt;Previously, he forced a confession out of me through instant messaging. He said my confession was lame since it was through the computer. But he meant it in a fun way - we always do. I told him that I'll redo my confession. My big sib from school kind of confessed to him on the computer - she hinted it. He told me that if she confesses before I do, then he might go out with her. I said that's a jerk move to do and that no girl would appreciate him ever. Not even his ex. He told me to forget about who confesses first and to take my time - as if he was doing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt; a favor.&lt;br /&gt;I got mad and my nasty sarcasm came out just as he was confessing to his ex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Him: i'm tired of holding back my feelings&lt;br /&gt;Him: i'm  talking it all out to her&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;"  &gt;what's her  reaction?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: shes  not holding back either&lt;br /&gt;Him: this  is so scary lol&lt;br /&gt;Him: my  heart is pumping&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;"  &gt;"your confession is lame. on the  internet."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; But that's just one example. Anyways, at the end, he decided he would definitely move on. He asked me if I wanted to move on. I said I would flip a coin, and I did. Tails would be no, and vice versa. I flipped it about 5 times until it was heads. I just wanted to get on with my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, I felt refreshed. Like a chapter of my life ended and a fresh new page is beginning - very little words scrawled on it...and none that were complex and tiring. I love that feeling and I'm sure he felt almost the same way. We were both kind of bursting with exuberance when we saw each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, later, he kept asking if I moved on yet. I actually don't know. It's such a short amount of time - I'm no superman. He confuses me by his actions and his words, so I asked if he wanted me to get over him. If he does, then I am gone for good and I will not look back at our potential relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;you either want  me to or you don't.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: lol&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;so don't confused me  -.-&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: will u be happy with me?&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;only if you're not gonna date me  outta pity and as a tool to get over your ex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A lot of times, he asks me things that he should really be asking to himself and then he makes it sound like he's doing it as a favor to me. I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt; I can do better than him, but I feel as if I need him in my life - it's not crucial, but I feel like I just can't let him pass me by at the moment. But at the same time, I feel as if we would be better just as close friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, now - school. School is shit. I hate school because of the work. I'm still in post-summer mode and I want as many vacations as there can be. School is tiring and I am lazy. Those two do not mix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough about school. It's making my mind a little sick. I need a bed and some sleep. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading my extremely long, good for nothing post!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-6841885801285439936?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/6841885801285439936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/11/35-please-be-sure-to-read-fine-print.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6841885801285439936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6841885801285439936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/11/35-please-be-sure-to-read-fine-print.html' title='#35 Please Be Sure to Read the Fine Print'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-7136106569112186672</id><published>2009-10-28T00:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T00:05:34.036-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Another New York Sunset</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SufCW4Qd-EI/AAAAAAAAAFw/xmGeRXHHdM8/s1600-h/P1040203.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SufCW4Qd-EI/AAAAAAAAAFw/xmGeRXHHdM8/s400/P1040203.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397496376741197890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My friend, the girl that I drink Milk Tea with everyday, and I were waiting for the train at 74th street. It's the beginning of a lovely sunset.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SufCqmm1AcI/AAAAAAAAAF4/cFV4ok5_Ngg/s1600-h/P1040205.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SufCqmm1AcI/AAAAAAAAAF4/cFV4ok5_Ngg/s400/P1040205.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397496715600527810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This was taken on my way from my bus stop to my house. The ending of a lovely sunset.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-7136106569112186672?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/7136106569112186672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/10/another-new-york-sunset.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7136106569112186672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7136106569112186672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/10/another-new-york-sunset.html' title='Another New York Sunset'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SufCW4Qd-EI/AAAAAAAAAFw/xmGeRXHHdM8/s72-c/P1040203.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-4296933435251340011</id><published>2009-10-25T01:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T02:13:49.841-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#34 I’m Falling Out the Sky Without a Parachute</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;It's been a while, hasn't it? I guess I only really write in here when I feel a sense of loss or displacement in my life. It's just boring when there isn't any conflicts in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm failing. I never cared much about grades, but the aurora of everyone talking about college and grades scare the living shit out of me. It completely engulfed me and it scares me. I don't like thinking about the future. Where will I be when I get out of college? Will I be able to handle school?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can barely pass some of my classes - and I'm not exactly passing my other classes with flying colors either. I'm a B+ student, clearly not good enough for an Ivy college. How can I ever go to med school with that grade? I want to be a psychologist. Can I make it? I'm losing hope and it scares me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want it to be summer vacation again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer vacation felt like it was never there. Once school begins, you kind of just forget about it. Whatever conflicts the school year left off was forgotten over the summer. Once summer ends, you just resume to the time where "everything was alright".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's sad to think that the closing ceremony for my volunteer work is probably the last time I'll ever see my summer friends. It already past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should probably talk to you about that guy. If you follow this blog, you'll know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;I reached a dilemma where another guy that has been in my head for a long time surfaces again. He liked me a long time ago, but I shut him down - completely. I was so mean. I told him about my dilemma and he wasn't mad at me, surprisingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've gotten quite close to the other guy. He moved to Queens recently, so I take the train with him - he asked me to =). I've also got close to this other girl. We go to Quickly everyday afterschool to try new flavors of Milk Tea. We promised each other do find something meaningful and do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next week is Halloween. I am so psyched. Next week is also the day I send one of my dogs to the shelter. He was originally a stray dog that followed me home. It's been 4 years since he came home with me. I don't really want to give him to the shelter, but with the complaints of our neighbors, I have to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it just me, or does this month seem kind of depressing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-4296933435251340011?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/4296933435251340011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/10/34-im-falling-out-sky-without-parachute.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4296933435251340011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4296933435251340011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/10/34-im-falling-out-sky-without-parachute.html' title='#34 I’m Falling Out the Sky Without a Parachute'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-6035384227728486938</id><published>2009-07-25T23:50:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T00:29:53.652-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#33 Teach Me Every Step, Every Tip and Every Turn</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The past 13 days that I haven't written in here has been full of busy and lazy days. I really think I had the chance to learn and appreciate things more than I already do. Moreover, it makes me wanna take care of my life a little more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought a book in 4th grade called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Curious Incident of the Dog In the Night-Time&lt;/span&gt; by Mark Haddon. I thought I understood it, but I only got the gist of it and was pretty bored after a while. But now, I'm rereading it and it captivated me completely and really made me think about the world and how it works. I'm really happy I didn't throw it out. I really recommend it to people who like reading about mysteries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So over the past several days, my father had an accident and had to go to the hospital. Last week, I was fixing the roof with him when he suddenly felt dizzy. He is already diagnosed with vertigo, so I was used to it. I thought for sure that it would last only a few minutes. But with the sun blaring down at us, it was tough to get over it.&lt;br /&gt;Part of our roof is flat, but still a little slanted. He propped a ladder against and climbed up to help me fix the roof. When he felt dizzy, he leaned against the ladder for support. Luckily, I moved him away from the ladder and toward the windows or else he would've fallen down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes of deep breathing, he coughed. He usually would throw up because of the dizziness, but instead, he choked on his vomit and fell over landing with a huge THUD. I didn't realize he choked, I just stopped him from rolling down the slant. But I saw the expression on his face, eye bulging, face turning bright red and not moving at all.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know what to do. I started pumping at his chest like in the movies. But it wasn't working. So I smacked his back really hard until he threw up. Then he looked at me and asked what happened. All this while, I was just kept calling out "daddy". I felt like I needed to cry, but I couldn't burst into tears.&lt;br /&gt;Instead of going down the ladder, my sister and I helped him in through the windows. We thought that was it. No more tragedies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. The next day, which was Monday. I thought for sure that it was the 19th. But it was the 20th, my dad's birthday and I completely got the date wrong. I went to my volunteer work and at 3PM, I got a phonecall rushing me to go back to Flushing. My dad was in the ER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stayed there for 4 days straight. It was a terrible birthday for him, I would think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, it wasn't a case of vertigo...but a minor stroke. I took a week off and visited him everyday at the hospital. I got into an argument with my sister because it looked as if I didn't care. I really wanted to go back to the volunteer cause I was having fun. She got mad at me for that, and I don't blame her. She told me, "You have 3 years to complete your community service work, but you might not even have 3 years with your dad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't cry in front of her. Of course I already knew that I might not have 3 years with my dad. I already know a lot of stuff that she told me. I wish I didn't, but I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she cried in front of my dad and said stuff, I felt that she was being unfair to my dad just because her dad died. Her dad died alone. He was a lonely man and she didn't want me to regret not being there for my dad the way she was. But, I don't wanna be there when my dad dies. I don't wanna see him die in front of me. I would much rather recieve a phonecall than see my dad go through the unbearable pain of dying in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad is back home now. He's taking his time recovering as I run errands and send out emails to my school for orientation day. I feel underappreciated for my efforts in helping my father. I never really got a Thanks from him for anything. Also, he doesn't even stay at home. Always visiting his friends and coming home after midnight. Right now, as we speak, my father isn't home and it's nearing midnight. Another example and today is only the 2nd day he's back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's still smoking it up. And at this rate, I feel as if I might really lose him...and not to a minor stroke like this time. But an actual stroke...one that makes people the "Living Dead". And honestly, that makes me sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I just really need someone's chest to cry into sometimes. Crying alone is just...a little lonely at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-6035384227728486938?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/6035384227728486938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/07/33-teach-me-every-step-every-tip-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6035384227728486938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6035384227728486938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/07/33-teach-me-every-step-every-tip-and.html' title='#33 Teach Me Every Step, Every Tip and Every Turn'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-2267992695915542098</id><published>2009-07-12T20:11:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T21:27:22.444-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#32 Lately I've Been Thinking So Strangely About the Clouds</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;...and how they seem to slowly fade away. Maybe someday we can find a way to disappear. Just me and you on silver light in dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's been a long time. 10 days. So sorry, just been really occupied and busy lately. My summer volunteer work has taken up most of my time and when I get back home, I just turn into a sloth and sleep. Haha. I work full days on my volunteer work which is 9AM-6PM. So I oftened get relocated to Chinatown a lot and travel with the other full day people. I got to become friends with a lot of new people and I've been having a LOT of fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It rained a lot on June 2nd...which was the first time I went to Chinatown. We barely got any work done, which was fine with me because I still get my hours. Haha. The week after that, we got permanently assigned to an Associate which was surprisingly really cool. He's hilarious with his sarcasm. It actually reminds myself of my sister and I when we talk to each other. In person, I'm also really sarcastic so we got along quite well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, we ended one of our workdays early and went to Battery Park. One of our member went to Stuyvesant High School, so he rented a football and some of us played football and some just sat and played Chinese Poker. The days after that, we did just as much work. Yup, we're hard workers for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't usually look forward to my weekends since I have so much fun at my volunteer program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Updates:&lt;br /&gt;On July 4th, I spent the day with my cousin and nephew and family. It was raining pretty hard that day but we still bbq-ed in the rain! Haha, we had seafood barbeque. It was delicious, especially the fresh clams. =). I went to watch the fireworks near my neighborhood. Of course it was just the neighbors illegally lighting them off, but the police didn't mind cause it happens every year. At first, I went with my sister, her bf, cousin and nephew, but at the end, I was the only one standing there and staring at the magic.&lt;br /&gt;It was really beautiful. It was one of the few nights that I wished I had someone to hold me and watch the fireworks with me. A romantic night with no one to spend it with. Haha, wishful thinking again.&lt;br /&gt;On July 5th, I spent the whole day with my friend cause it was her birthday. I actually had a lot of fun with her and we spent the day with a budget of $24. Haha, we're supersavers! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;July 6th was my friend's birthday, but I had work and by the time I reached his house, he left for camp. I wrote him a 3 page text message though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next couple of days were just splendid cause of Chinatown. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, I'm only working half a day and Chinatown was cancelled anyways. BUT! I can't wait for Tuesday! Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all the updates for today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-2267992695915542098?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/2267992695915542098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/07/32-lately-ive-been-thinking-so.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2267992695915542098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2267992695915542098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/07/32-lately-ive-been-thinking-so.html' title='#32 Lately I&apos;ve Been Thinking So Strangely About the Clouds'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-7612818363836494281</id><published>2009-07-02T21:18:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T22:08:09.104-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#31 Short Story, This Tragic Ending</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Many events have occured over the past week and I'm excited to share it all. So I hope you're ready to read!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On June 29th, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; came over. Of course it's only for my dogs. He's really soft about animals, and I guess people too but I don't think he likes to show it a lot. One of my dogs had a seizure. Usually it only lasts for 5 minutes, but this time, it was about 20-30 minutes so we took her to the vet.&lt;br /&gt;She stayed overnight and they ran some tests and gave us medication. Do you know how expensive that whole thing is? It's pretty damn pricey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the vet, we took my other dog to walk around. I had a great time talking to him and seeing him enjoy walking with my dog and laughing. I think he had a good time too...I hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend asked me to take care of his dog in August. So I'll earn 100$ for the time he's gone because I get paid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I started my summer volunteer work. Man, oh man! It is REALLY tiring walking around Flushing and Chinatown for 8 hours asking people for voter registrations.&lt;br /&gt;Today, I went to Chinatown with my volunteer team and it was raining so hard. Everyone was eating dim sum, but I went to Quicklys to get some bubble tea and the guy at the registration was really nice to me. After I left, I met up with my friend and took them to Quicklys again and that guy started talking to me. =D. Then, after my volunteer team finished eating, I took them to Quicklys and we stayed there cause of the rain.&lt;br /&gt;The staff were extremely nice to me. I wanna go there again. Partially cause they were cute...meh. I bet they'll turn out like everyone else though...falling for my fake smiles. The cute personality that I use to get voters registrations. It's all fake and an act but it works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home today, my family were having a bbq...in the rain. Yeah, we're pretty fucking awesome. Even better, it was mostly seafood bbq. Grilled seafood dipped in butter in the rain. Genius. I'm using sarcasm. But seriously, the food was great. Really really delicious because it was grilled. =).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that...I have two of my friend's birthdays coming up. I'm pretty excited because I got invited to one of them. I've known her since elementary school. My other friend is a guy and his birthday is the day after hers.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to go karaoke with him and my other friend, but they cancelleld on me. I think today was the 3rd time they cancelled and I'm pretty disappointed because I haven't seen them in a while.&lt;br /&gt;Those two boys are busy people. They're always involved with church stuff. Never really into other things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's kind of like a clique. The whole church group is like a clique...sticking to themselves and never really bothering about other people unless it's about spreading the religion. I don't know. I just want my friends back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I hope tomorrow I'll have a better time working my shifts. But that's it for today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-7612818363836494281?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/7612818363836494281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/07/31-short-story-this-tragic-ending.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7612818363836494281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7612818363836494281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/07/31-short-story-this-tragic-ending.html' title='#31 Short Story, This Tragic Ending'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-7016342230618675977</id><published>2009-06-26T00:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T00:38:32.288-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#30 You've Been Struck By A Smooth Criminal</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;R.I.P. Michael Jackson.&lt;br /&gt;I really can't believe how some people still put his charges first before his musical achievements. I'm still shocked and can't get my head wrapped around the fact that he's dead. Moreover, I never thought that such a legend can just disappear like that.&lt;br /&gt;I guess this is just another example of human life and how fast it can slip by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, let's not dwell on the negative and move on to other news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I applied for a volunteer opportunity for John Liu (New York Councilman) to finish my 200 hrs of community service. I'm lucky to get an acceptance letter! :) I'm really excited because they do a lot of events over the summer. I'm working about 32 hours a week for 8 weeks. So I'll be done with my hours in no time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I went to my friend's birthday party. I haven't really hung out with her for about a year. Actually, the last time I went over to her house was exactly a year ago from yesterday. She's really grown and is beautiful now. Her mother was really excited to see me again and kept telling me about how I've gotten prettier. But I really doubted it and I got really shy. Compliments...wear me out. I don't know how to respond half the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, tomorrow is the last day of school. My friend is also planning to break up with his girlfriend tomorrow. He's really unhappy and "tired of this relationship". He explained to me his reasons and from what I can tell, he just wants to party it up and get as many STDs as possible. I understand. It's like the typical boys from Superbad or American Pie. They don't wanna be committed early in their teenage lives yet.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure how to handle both of them since they're both my friends. I figure that I would need to support the girl a lot since she was so committed. I already told the guy that I'd go watch a movie with him though. Oh, whatever...I'll manage to help the girl out as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, it's already midnight. Gotta wake up in a few hours for school. =(.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-7016342230618675977?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/7016342230618675977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/06/30-youve-been-struck-by-smooth-criminal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7016342230618675977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7016342230618675977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/06/30-youve-been-struck-by-smooth-criminal.html' title='#30 You&apos;ve Been Struck By A Smooth Criminal'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-7283958153772720621</id><published>2009-06-19T00:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T01:16:04.089-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#29 It's Amazing What You'll Find When You Just Open Your Eyes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Hello. :).&lt;br /&gt;I'm very happy right now. Let me tell you why!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I finished my last regents, which is the Biology regents. It was harder than I expected, but I think I still got mastery (85 or above).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As to Jihoon and Paul's (my two faithful readers) question in my last entry, I'm definitely free this summer. Well, I have volunteer work, but other than that, I'm open! Also, Jihoon, there are different math exams. You probably took the Algebra regents whilst I took the Geometry regents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, moving on...&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, he gave me his house number so I can call him after I finished my regents. So I did call him immediately when I finished. It was pouring outside, but that was a good thing since he loves the rain. I met him up at Central Park, but I had to lie to my sister about it. I told her I was grabbing food with my friends and that it would be quick...but it wasn't quick at all.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I haven't been to Central Park in a while and it was spectacular! I've never seen it in the rain and it's so gorgeous. Hardly anyone is there and all the flowers and trees completely engulfed me. I felt like I wasn't in the city anymore and in the heart of a forest. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He took me to his favorite place, which was this maze-like garden. There was a man-made canopy which was really cool because it felt magical. The vines and everything were wrapped around the metal frames giving off a wedding garden vibe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, we entered through a smaller garden where there was a fountain. I took a penny and made a wish that my sister and father wouldn't find out about me lying. They kept calling me and wondering where I was...I didn't pick up though. Luckily, my wish came true!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He dropped me off at the train station and I wanted to hug him as a thanks, but I had a feeling that it'd be awkward if I did that, so I just thanked him and left.&lt;br /&gt;I gave my sister a phone call and told her I was at 59th street on the N train when I was really still at 103rd street waiting for the 6 train. To my luck, the 7 train broke down (which was my excuse) and she picked me up at Astoria Blvd not asking why I was really late.&lt;br /&gt;She assumed that I just took a long time with my friend. :) Lucky me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back home, I IMed him and told him that I had a nice time and to excuse my cheesy-ness. His reaction was, "What? How? I barely even talked!". Which was surprising to me...so I replied, "Uh. You actually talked more than me in case you haven't noticed..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That kind of shut him up, which was really cute because he knew I was right but just didn't want to admit it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the park, he would shake the branches of the trees, trying to spill the water on the leaves onto me. His umbrella broke as well, but he was so stubborn of the fact that he doesn't wanna seem like a couple so he just used him broken umbrella. And he always seems like he could care less about me, but the smallest things show me that he does care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like, when he arrived, he kept apologizing for making me wait. But I don't mind, cause as long as he's here, it's fine. Also, he took him time to come here on his free day to meet someone like me up. He knew that I like photography and brought his camera. Also, he cared about whether or not I'd get in trouble. Not only that, but he always tells me that I need more sleep...cause I really do. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish he would admit that he cares, but it's fun when it's like this as well. It lets me know his personality more and it's entertaining and adorable to watch him like that. Also, if he admits that he cares...who knows what will happen!&lt;br /&gt;Right now, is good for me. Right now, I wish I had more time at Central Park. Right now, I'm happy. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-7283958153772720621?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/7283958153772720621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/06/29-its-amazing-what-youll-find-when-you.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7283958153772720621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7283958153772720621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/06/29-its-amazing-what-youll-find-when-you.html' title='#29 It&apos;s Amazing What You&apos;ll Find When You Just Open Your Eyes'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-1930675925667546467</id><published>2009-06-16T15:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T16:26:56.127-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#28 Caught Inside It's Pages</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I admit, I've been neglecting this blog for a while...but I'm back! And I'll definitely try to keep this updated. :) I've just been really caught up in this game on Facebook. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today is the first day of Regents Week. In NY, high schoolers have a week off where they have to come in only to take a test. I took one of my math exams today and it was surprisingly easy. I thought it was going to be extremely hard because of all the work that my teacher told us to do. On Thursday, I'm taking my science exam. That's going to be harder since I never really paid much attention in that class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer, I'm supposed to get volunteer work to work off all my hours. However, the person I relied on was really unreliable and didn't get me my application. I feel really disappointed since that was the only thing that I had planned for the summer. Now, I have to look for my own work or go back to Taiwan.&lt;br /&gt;I don't mind going back, I just don't like the humid weather that feels as if I'm walking in quicksand. Also, a plan ticket there is very pricey and my family just doesn't have that kind of money. But my mom would do whatever it takes to get me to Taiwan if I say I want to go back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These couple of days, I've been leaving that boy alone and I notice that he actually comes to find me. Haha, you know that reverse psychology thing. Yesterday was my last full school day, and after last period ended, he saw me sitting in a room by myself watching Fast &amp;amp; Furious: Tokyo Drift and he came in. But I turned around and he left. Haha. But, I went after him...like I always do and caught up. I'm really happy cause he says he going to come over during the summer. Of course it's only to see my dogs though...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, last Saturday, I went to the Big Apple Barbeque at Madison Square Garden. There was so much food and I had some really delicious ribs. They were really juicy and scrumptious and the weather was much better compared to last years stickyness. I had a really good time with my sister and her friends, except for the fact that I was really thirsty. Haha. They only served a few beverages there. Usually it was Snapple, milkshake and beer. However, snapple was sold out and the line was practically all of Manhattan so my sister got really low-alcohol beer and gave it to me.&lt;br /&gt;Haha, I didn't even taste the alcohol. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday, I got my braces removed and was constantly harrassed on Monday by everyone. They stopped me on the way to class and forced me to open my mouth. Yeah, it was funny and fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow's my day off. I have nothing planned except to watch the clouds pass by. Sometimes it feels like the world is moving really slow because the clouds are so high and you can't really see it move. But when they're low, they look like they're moving super fast and I just want to stop time. I don't know what I'm talking about now...haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-1930675925667546467?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/1930675925667546467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/06/28-caught-inside-its-pages.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/1930675925667546467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/1930675925667546467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/06/28-caught-inside-its-pages.html' title='#28 Caught Inside It&apos;s Pages'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-2620894889695867702</id><published>2009-06-02T04:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T04:35:30.776-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#27 For Example...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;"For example, if &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;you were by my side and about to crumble over something, I'd probably secretly offer my hand without saying a word&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That line has been stuck in my head ever since I read it...which was a couple of days ago.&lt;br /&gt;I wish someone would say that to me sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, it's 4:21 AM. I'm not supposed to wake up until 5:30. I couldn't sleep I guess. So I'll just talk about my day yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was an awesome day. I didn't have that bad of time in gym and second period, my math teacher was absent. I didn't have to present my artwork in third period because I didn't get picked. Lucky me! :) In German class, we didn't do anything except study for our finals. During drafting class, all I did was work on my powerpoint presentation. So everything yesterday flowed smoothly and I did barely any work!&lt;br /&gt;To top it off, our school announced that they were canceling all final exams due to the swine flu. Our school actually has some infected kids and they didn't want the kids to come to school just to take the tests. That's one less major exam I have to worry about. All that's left is to tackle the Regents Exams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During lunch, I expected to see him (you should know who I'm talking about by now) but I didn't. I usually meet him at the courtyard, but I didn't sense his presence anywhere. I had a pretty good idea of where he was, at one of the art rooms using the computer. I was right of course.&lt;br /&gt;I felt kinda stupid though, I was waiting for him emptily and it made me wonder why I even cared so much about him. When I found out that I guessed where he was and was right, I was really happy because I told him that I could always find him, no matter where he was. :).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, I guess that all I have to say for now. I'm gonna go back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;If someone happened to tell me that line in the beginning of this entry, I wanna be able to tell them this line at the end of my entry...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Stay with me; I want to smile brightly and just stay by your side..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-2620894889695867702?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/2620894889695867702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/06/27-for-example.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2620894889695867702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2620894889695867702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/06/27-for-example.html' title='#27 For Example...'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-536120323416292778</id><published>2009-05-30T17:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T17:45:59.990-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Collage of Homes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SiGnwcPVwgI/AAAAAAAAAFo/SfzgcMN8cd8/s1600-h/House+Collage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SiGnwcPVwgI/AAAAAAAAAFo/SfzgcMN8cd8/s400/House+Collage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341735083694211586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I suppose the message I was trying to convey here was that no matter who's or which house you see; it's still a home. Home has multiple meanings and each one is unique with someone's own definition. Could be good, could be bad, but it'll always be a surprise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-536120323416292778?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/536120323416292778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/collage-of-homes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/536120323416292778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/536120323416292778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/collage-of-homes.html' title='A Collage of Homes'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SiGnwcPVwgI/AAAAAAAAAFo/SfzgcMN8cd8/s72-c/House+Collage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-4446739198673630125</id><published>2009-05-30T17:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T17:37:03.744-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#26 Let's Paint A Rainbow on the Sky's Canvas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;It's really been a while since I updated this blog, hasn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize how much I miss this place over the week that I haven't updated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I should jump right to what happened over the week.&lt;br /&gt;On Memorial Day, I hung out with the guy I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; interested in. I really enjoyed myself as we walked the dogs and took a lot of pictures. I felt that he had fun too but he just didn't want to admit it. :). I really tried my best to show him around the neighborhood and he told me that he wish there were more hills instead of fields of grass. I wanted to make a huge bulge of grassy dirt pop up right in front of him so he would enjoy my neighborhood more.&lt;br /&gt;Frankly, I don't know why I try so hard to make him smile. He smiles rarely, but it's beautiful whenever he does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day, I looked up at the sky a lot and stared straight at the sun. I had one of those moments where you just close your eyes and let the wind take you. Am I making sense? Haha, I hope so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday, Wednesday were pretty typical days. On Thursday, I brought home my art project to finish a collage that I started. I had a pretty cool idea, but I ripped it up and decided to start again. I took pictures of different houses on my block and cut them into strips. Then I put them together to make a new house. My art teacher liked it. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was fun as well. I hung out with two of my guy friends that I haven't talked to in a while. We went to eat Pho and that filled me up. Then I went to pick up my sister. She got her period and she was so moody. I really wanted to tell to shut up about everything she complained about. I never thought women can be like that. So I respect boys for putting up with it. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I took my dad to eat Hooters. Oh my god. It was hilarious because my father and I were talking about the girls and how they looked and what not. I had fun with my dad and that's pretty amazing. I think doing one-on-one activities with your parent is great. It really strengthens their trust on you and you always learn a little something about them. Today, I learned that my dad still forgets that I'm older. He took my wrist as we were crossing the street and it was really embarrassing. But this just tells me that my dad still wishes I was a little kid where I don't hang out with my friends and keep secrets from him.&lt;br /&gt;Most of all, I understand where he's coming from. He's lonely and when I was a baby, I would only look at him. Now, I rebel and I'm starting to develop more interest in other people. Sometimes, I think that being a kid fixes everything. When I was a kid, I thought everything could be fixed. Somewhat ironic, no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-4446739198673630125?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/4446739198673630125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/26-lets-paint-rainbow-on-skys-canvas.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4446739198673630125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4446739198673630125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/26-lets-paint-rainbow-on-skys-canvas.html' title='#26 Let&apos;s Paint A Rainbow on the Sky&apos;s Canvas'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-5226347655660713414</id><published>2009-05-21T20:27:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T20:53:52.757-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#25 Music Makes Me Get High</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I guess being single is a bad thing? Haha, I'm not exactly sure. I feel like I'm coming off as someone who is boy-crazed...but I really am not. Well, that's what I tell myself. Alright, I'm starting to confuse and doubt myself a lot =\.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past week has been fun and full of surprises. Really. It has surprised me in many ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Monday was fun. Had a mini-party with my friends. Ooo, in art class that day, I saw this cute guy (again). But he reminded me of Gabe Saporta from Cobra Starship except he had curly hair. At first we just kept making eye contact, but later he coincidentally pointed out my collage which was on display. Me, listening to music, wasn't aware that he was talking about my collage until people called out my name so he can talk to me. He told me that really liked my collage, and I just turned red.&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; do not take compliments well. Not just because he was cute...but in general. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;Okay...maybe it does have something to do with him being cute. But that's not the point! He kept teasing me after that, which I enjoyed. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get to see him next week again. W00t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alrighty Tuesday and Wednesday were typical. Today, Thursday, was fun.&lt;br /&gt;I woke up late and didn't grab my gym clothes so I was unprepared for gym. But I faked that I wasn't feeling well and started crying. I got a sheet asking me why I wasn't prepared today, so I wrote, "I really didn't feel well. If you want me to work out, I'll do it. I'll just pass out".&lt;br /&gt;My gym teacher said I was failing. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lunch came around and I went directly to the courtyard where I usually sit with the guy I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; interested in. He came around and asked me if I had anything to eat. I don't each lunch so he shoved a donut in my face. Being a fatty-consumer, I took the bait and ate it.&lt;br /&gt;Afterschool, I went for tutoring for the first time, and I bumped into him again. I was really happy and nervous at the same time. It felt odd to be with him in another place besides the courtyard. Now, we're making plans to hang out at central park! I hope I can do it this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooo, Memorial Day is coming up and I'm going to a sleepover. Ah~ this week is full of great surprises.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and the title is 'Music Makes Me Get High' because I finally got a chance to use the ipod my friend gave me and I use it everyday now. I'm getting very addicted to music and I'm really starting to make a wider variety of friends through music now.&lt;br /&gt;Music is universal after all. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-5226347655660713414?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/5226347655660713414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/25-music-makes-me-get-high.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5226347655660713414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5226347655660713414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/25-music-makes-me-get-high.html' title='#25 Music Makes Me Get High'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-6557848673899073626</id><published>2009-05-16T10:03:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T10:08:19.088-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dance Like No One's Watching</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sg7IGDlapzI/AAAAAAAAAFY/5QPdx5ckRjA/s1600-h/JUMP1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sg7IGDlapzI/AAAAAAAAAFY/5QPdx5ckRjA/s400/JUMP1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336422614847629106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sg7IGYfLi5I/AAAAAAAAAFg/Vkcp13HDpxk/s1600-h/JUMP2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sg7IGYfLi5I/AAAAAAAAAFg/Vkcp13HDpxk/s400/JUMP2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336422620458617746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This was our school dance last night. Everyone got glow sticks and we just all danced. This was to a techno song so everyone was just jumping. Haha, it was really fun but it really wore me out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-6557848673899073626?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/6557848673899073626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/dance-like-no-ones-watching.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6557848673899073626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6557848673899073626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/dance-like-no-ones-watching.html' title='Dance Like No One&apos;s Watching'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sg7IGDlapzI/AAAAAAAAAFY/5QPdx5ckRjA/s72-c/JUMP1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-5919157681031409846</id><published>2009-05-16T09:13:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T09:41:52.414-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#24 Hey Mr. DJ, You Gotta Put a Record On, Yeah!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yesterday must've been a lucky day for me. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was late to my first period class which was gym. Luckily, I didn't have to run Suicides because I was late. Of course, I was late on purpose because I just absolutely hate gym. But that morning, I just hung around campus instead of going to the cafeteria. I usually go to the cafeteria at 7:30AM and hang out with everyone...but instead, I sat by myself on the rooftop of the building. It was relaxing and I kept track of time to make sure that I was late for gym. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2nd and 3rd period was the typical stuff. I was able to sell about 11 tickets in total during lunch. But at the end of the day, I sold 13ish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5th period was German class and we had a quiz, in which I cheated for. =\ I should really stop doing that if I expect to get into an Ivy College. German class was really exciting and fun because we got the chance to make our teacher do whatever we want if we phrase it correctly in German. So, we made her do push-ups, singing, bringing us food, and lots of dancing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6th period was blah. I was working with a partner on Autodesk (an engineering computer software) on modeling a Desktop Organizer, but he didn't follow my design correctly. I had to redo part of his work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, afterschool came around! I thought my friend was going to hang out with me, but he went to play basketball...so I was left alone again. Shocking! Not.&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy that I finally get to talk to new people because I got lucky and got to go to my friend's house which was a couple of blocks away. I met her mother and finished the soup she made for me so her mother invited me to sleep over next time. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the dance and I worked my 6-7 PM shift. I was upset when I saw the dance floor because there wasn't anyone really dancing. So I brought all the freshmen guys to the dance floor and starting dancing. Haha. I tried to dance with each one of them for at least one song, but I was so exhausted! Overall, it was successful compared to last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the dance, I threw on my jeans and left the building with some of my friends. Two of took the same train with me throughout the whole ride and they are big and buff so I felt safe walking through Harlem. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;When we arrived at Flushing, they took me to McDonalds and I really didn't want them to buy me anything because I don't like asking people for things but they kept insisting...so I got an Oreo McFlurry! Haha, man...that woke me up a lot from the party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, my dad picked me up and when I got home, I talked to the boy I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; interested in (right now, I'm just trying to be close friends with him). We had a great convo until I passed out on the computer. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's it for yesterday. Today I have a dentist appointment and hopefully I'll be able to walk after all that dancing from last night. Perhaps I'll even meet up with an old friend. Depends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think anyone really reads my blogs anymore. Whatever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-5919157681031409846?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/5919157681031409846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/24-hey-mr-dj-you-gotta-put-record-on.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5919157681031409846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5919157681031409846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/24-hey-mr-dj-you-gotta-put-record-on.html' title='#24 Hey Mr. DJ, You Gotta Put a Record On, Yeah!'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-8737707513144817672</id><published>2009-05-14T21:31:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T21:40:15.940-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#23 If Only...If Only for One Second</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This blog is going to be short because I am short. Hahaha, just kidding...but I am planning to shorten it a little today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired and exhausted and my ribs are hurting a lot. I still have to run about 0.9 miles in gym tomorrow...I'm so looking forward to doing that. No, I'm really not.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so deprived of sleep, it's not even funny anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy I was interested in called me ugly. I'm sure it's cause I always look so tired though. I don't think I'm pretty. But I don't think I'm ugly either. =\&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked through some pictures of my friends, and I miss hanging out with them.&lt;br /&gt;But I looked through pictures of people that I just hang out with sometimes, and I enjoy being by myself and jumping from clique to clique.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a school dance that the student government (which includes me) is hosting. I haven't sold a single ticket yet...and the dance is TOMORROW. However, I did get some promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't done ANY homework today. I'm so exhausted. I just want to cut school tomorrow...but I can't, cause I have the dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I had a math exam today. It was the first one I studied for in a long time. I only studied cause I failed the last exam. Even though I studied, I didn't even finish it because I didn't have enough time. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It'd be nice to just pause the world for just one second. One second will be enough to change a lot of things. I feel as if time keeps passing and I never have enough time to do what I want to do. And I want to do a lot. Really...&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;a lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it for today.&lt;br /&gt;Pretty crappy day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-8737707513144817672?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/8737707513144817672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/23-if-onlyif-only-for-one-second.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/8737707513144817672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/8737707513144817672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/23-if-onlyif-only-for-one-second.html' title='#23 If Only...If Only for One Second'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-4462056666298126769</id><published>2009-05-11T00:37:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T01:24:05.715-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#22 The City's Asleep and The World Is Mine</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I'm a little late, but Happy Mothers' Day to all the mothers out there. :) I hope you spent lots of treasured time with your loved ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I'm starting to get sick of all the blogs I'm seeing. The kids are fucked up enough...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, onto positivity.&lt;br /&gt;Today, I went to Red Hook in Brooklyn. There were many vending machines out near the Red Hook Field so my sister, her boyfriend and her friends ate a lot of Mexican dishes. It was very tasty and I drank a lot of juices...which I soon regret doing. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;After all those liquids, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to run to the bathroom and the closest bathroom was at Ikea. After the quick bathroom break, I went to watch Star Trek with my sister and her boyfriend. I couldn't believe that I actually enjoyed it. Star Trek is something that I usually don't associate myself with because I was just never a sci-fi person. But I have to say, it was a lot funnier and entertaining than I had expected (I expected a lot of geekiness).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way home, my friend called me and asked if he could come over. At first I didn't want him to, but then I remembered that today was Mothers' Day and he didn't really have a mom because his father always has girlfriends. So, out of sympathy (I have a lot of that), I said yes.&lt;br /&gt;I went to pick him up, and when I saw him, he was carrying flowers. :) It was the first time I ever received flowers from anyone and I was so happy. I would've never expected it from him, but when I got it, boy, I was smiling so hard and nervous at the same time. Not the nervous you feel when you like someone, but the nervous when you don't know what to say or do. I guess flattered is the right word.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, we talked and hung out in my room. It was a nice little catch-up until I had to kick him out at 10 PM. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, that's basically the highlight of my day.&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I gave my mother a call and had a decent conversation with her. I really do miss her even though I don't show it often. :) I hope she's happy in Taiwan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-4462056666298126769?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/4462056666298126769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/22-citys-asleep-and-world-is-mine.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4462056666298126769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4462056666298126769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/22-citys-asleep-and-world-is-mine.html' title='#22 The City&apos;s Asleep and The World Is Mine'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-633817830934419356</id><published>2009-05-09T18:28:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T19:28:34.230-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#21 You're In High School Again. You're Nothing Again.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I'm hesitating whether or not to write this blog. I feel as if writing in here everyday will be a little too much for people to read. But I still want to write everything out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my school hosted a spring fair. It went pretty well compared to what I heard about last year. I hosted a sponge booth where you get to throw wet sponges to teachers and students. I earned a total of $81...and I think that was the most out of all the other booths (except for the PTA, those parents are crazy with food).&lt;br /&gt;After the fair, I went to our school's Harlem Is...Showcase. It was better than I thought it would be and highly entertaining. I got the chance to see a lot of my fellow classmates perform in dance, poetry and acting. So everything was good there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left the school around 4 and took the train. When I transferred, I gave a call to my sister to tell her that I'm almost home. She told me that my report card came. I went up and I got an 87. I didn't think it was too bad, but from the sound of my sister's voice, she wanted me to do a lot better. I was upset because I felt that I had to constantly live up to my sister's good grades and that she was disappointed in the grades I got. I never feel like what I do is enough for her. I got upset when she kept asking me questions and I made myself look like an idiot when I screamed "Shut up!" out loud on the train. So I just hung up and kind of cried.&lt;br /&gt;I got home and confronted her. She told me that she never meant to make it seem like that and that she was only asking questions because she was concerned. I told her I feel as if she's always comparing me to other students and whatever. She said that she never meant to do that...but I know that she still does that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a slow learner and I was never good at academics. However, I do love photography, art, acting, writing and everything that requires creativity. Just not school. I can't work when people challenge me to do better...I do better when people are supporting me. My sister always did better because she wanted to prove to my parents that she can do well. And she did. Always got over 90 on all her subjects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't compare to her. I know she's smarter than me academically because it's just not my strong point. I just wish I didn't have to live under her shadow because I know as a fact that my mom will always compare us and I just hate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-633817830934419356?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/633817830934419356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/21-youre-in-high-school-again-youre.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/633817830934419356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/633817830934419356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/21-youre-in-high-school-again-youre.html' title='#21 You&apos;re In High School Again. You&apos;re Nothing Again.'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-6424228110473240574</id><published>2009-05-08T20:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T21:08:39.534-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#20 You Can't See the Weather, You've Got to Pull the Blinds</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Today was fun because it was a nice day out. I expected it to thunderstorm because the weather forecast said so. They lied. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I made a deal with the guy I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; interested in. He wanted to know which one I tagged him as in a facebook note and now he has to hang out with me for a whole day. At first, I wanted ice cream...but he told me his ex-girlfriend always asks for ice cream and that he doesn't want to see her in me. So then I changed it to pudding...but then he said that it was a lame thing. So I said that I want to hang out with him for a day and take pictures. He has a professional camera and I love photography. It was decided that we would hang out next weekend (hopefully).&lt;br /&gt;That was basically the most interesting thing that happened to me yesterday. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, however, I met up with one of my guy friends. He gave me an ipod shuffle that his ex threw back at him when they broke up. It's only 1GB, but it's free! So it's good enough for me. After that, I went with him to his friends house and watched them play Yu-Gi-Oh. -_____-; Boys will be boys. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;After I left him, I went to meet up with two other friends that I haven't seen in a while. They were shopping for Mothers' Day presents at Macy so I tagged along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have asked me what I was going to get my mother for Mothers' Day. I told them that I was going out and I wasn't going to get her anything. They got upset at me and told me that I should stay home with my mom. But then I tell them that she's on the other side of the world. Then, they express pity for me. I hate it when that happens. I don't usually like it when people offer me pity when I'm not looking for it. Well, I still appreciate the thought though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is the school's spring fair. I'm running a booth where you get to throw wet sponges at teachers. I really really really reallly really can't wait for it. There's going to be food and games and a showcase as well! =). I'm gonna go prepare for it right now. So I'll end this entry as it is for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-6424228110473240574?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/6424228110473240574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/20-you-cant-see-weather-youve-got-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6424228110473240574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6424228110473240574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/20-you-cant-see-weather-youve-got-to.html' title='#20 You Can&apos;t See the Weather, You&apos;ve Got to Pull the Blinds'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-493448411955952361</id><published>2009-05-06T18:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T18:27:21.061-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#19 I Wish I Can Unzip My Skin, Take It Off, Just to Take a Walk</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I'm happy that I influenced other people to start a blog and write their feelings out. Now, I notice that more and more people are doing such things. I also realize how childish my so-called problems are as I read other people's blogs and see how similar they are to mine. So in today's blog, I'm just going to talk about life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I wish I can take a break from life. I'm sure everyone felt like this before or will come across a feeling like mine. However, after I make that wish, I take it back immediately because I know that there are more people that deal with a harder, tougher life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking to the train station with my friend and he had his money out. An old lady asked him to spare a dollar, and since he's filthy rich, he gave a dollar to him. After we left, I said aloud, "That's why you put your money away in Harlem!" But as we walked down the stairs, I realized that it isn't really her fault that she asks for money. It must be an impulse for her because of the environment she lives in and the experience she deals with. I would probably do the same if I was put in her shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I feel that adults should put charge in their life. I understand that if they're homeless, it would hard for them to get any work and no work means no money. Everything involves the need for money nowadays. Sometimes I truly feel bad for some homeless people and just feel like buying a bag of grocery and dropping it off. I'm sure they'll feel grateful, but I want them to feel motivated to attempt to make their life better. Usually they just take advantage of the kindness though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the only time I take a break from life is when I sleep.&lt;br /&gt;I heard that you dream every single day even if you don't remember most of them. Supposedly, your dreams are just channels from a parallel universe. This is just a theory, but it's believable and I like that idea. It's like a vacation for me...except for my nightmares. Those are just...hell.&lt;br /&gt;I guess nightmares just proved me wrong. So you can't even take a break when you sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I don't want to grow up, I want to grow up at the same time. I can take the easy road in life because I have the option, but I choose not to. Because when I'm 60, I can look back on this and laugh at God and say proudly that I put up with everything he threw at me and still took the harder path. :) That's one of the 7 Sins...pride. Haha. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading if you are.&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-493448411955952361?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/493448411955952361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/19-i-wish-i-can-unzip-my-skin-take-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/493448411955952361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/493448411955952361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/19-i-wish-i-can-unzip-my-skin-take-it.html' title='#19 I Wish I Can Unzip My Skin, Take It Off, Just to Take a Walk'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-7998715432338766238</id><published>2009-05-04T18:44:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T18:28:40.221-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#18 And In Your Dream, It's Time to do the Best You Can Now</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After my last post, my friend IMed me on AIM and started talking to me again. He said that he missed being able to talk to me and being friends with me. He said he realized how "it's so messed up that we're avoiding you". After that, he explained to me why everyone was leaving me out.&lt;br /&gt;I called one of the girls "spoiled" right after her best friend called her that. She was hurt by that comment, but I don't see why being spoiled is a bad thing. But I apologized to her and I think she understands and she wants to talk with me again. She's afraid that if she talks to me, the others will feel 'betrayed'. High school is so stupid. These petty drama that are blown out of proportion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend that first talked to me will probably be messed up and maybe get mad at me, but it's what I really think. I love my friends and they kept me company for a long time and filled me with memories and laughs, but sometimes...it's just tiring to hear what they have to say about the silliest things. However, I know it's silly, but maybe they're right...maybe I am too mature for my age. I try to live like how they see things, but it makes me feel stupid because it's really useless sometimes. Oh well, it's fun being with them...so I'll try to be stupid more? Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another friend of mine (she's in the whole group) is mad at me because someone (another boy in our little group) told her that I blamed her for having the group fall apart. I never said that. I think she's taking my place...but I don't think she's tearing it apart. Anyways, that boy gossips so much. More than a lot of girls that I know. But whatever, it's him. One day, gossip with bite him right back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I cut my side bangs and now they're fringes. Everyone said it looked horrible on me, but I fixed it up after I got home today and I don't think it looks too bad. I thought that I don't care about how I look, but lately, it seems like I actually care a lot. Well, I just don't want to look like an idiot with my hair messed up. It's only the hair that I really care about. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a lot better because I actually talked with some of the people in my group. However, I still took the train separately from them, but that was alright because I still talked to them! It's time for me to do my best and mend our broken bridge and I'm gonna fix it up so it'll never break again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's it for today. =) I'll update more when there's more to say.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks if you're reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-7998715432338766238?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/7998715432338766238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/18-and-in-your-dream-its-time-to-do.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7998715432338766238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7998715432338766238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/18-and-in-your-dream-its-time-to-do.html' title='#18 And In Your Dream, It&apos;s Time to do the Best You Can Now'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-3441078808413360465</id><published>2009-05-02T10:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T18:28:58.716-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#17 I'm Stuck Here With A Ghost of What We Used to Be</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My sister moved back home two days ago. It's been going pretty well and it was a lot of fun catching up with her again. However, it's really awkward because her boyfriend is living with us. The thing is, her boyfriend got laid off and now he's usually stuck at home with my dad when my sister is at work and I'm at school.&lt;br /&gt;It's just odd because...it is. I can't explain it really, but there's just this awkward atmosphere. Well, it's more like he has to constantly put up a good front because my dad's there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's nice having 3/4 of the family at home and getting along well. It would be better if my mom was home and not arguing with my dad...but that's not possible because they MUST argue. It's like their 2nd instinct. Their first instinct is to complain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister told me how lucky I was to have her there. She said that if she wasn't there, I would be living in the basement with my dad. The basement is filled with cigarette stench and it's not that clean. She also told me how I'd have to put up with my mom's nagging and I'd have to take care of my mom whenever she went crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how my family got to this. The first time my father started to complain/brainwash me into thinking my mother was a bad person was way back when I was in elementary school. I think around 1st grade. He would keep imposing a bad image of my mom into me until I got slapped into my senses by my sister. I'll always be grateful to her for helping me so much...even if she acts like a nagging mother to me. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, let's get onto school.&lt;br /&gt;My little group is slowly falling apart more and more. So, I'm trying to pick a date where I can bring together everyone and just have a nice relaxing wii party. :) Nothing brings together a group of teenagers better than games and food.&lt;br /&gt;I wish it was like in the beginning of the year...we would all sit around and play chinese poker and hang out whenever we could. But everyone is paired into a couple now and it's just breaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elementary school seems like a great place to be right now. Boys had cooties and your innocent mind wasn't corrupted by R rated movies. Your favorite bedtime stories could be read over and over and you wouldn't get bored by it. Coloring out of the lines annoyed you, but it was still your masterpiece. You would feel so rich having a dollar bill and you were forgiven if you broke expensive things...or at least got away with a scolding. Yeah, but we're growing up way too fast...and time is slipping us by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as long as I carry my childhood with me, I'll always be a kid at heart. So, yeah, I'm stuck here with all the memories of what we (everyone in my life) were...before all the chaos. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it for today...I think. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;Comment? Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Jay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-3441078808413360465?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/3441078808413360465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/17-im-stuck-here-with-ghost-of-what-we.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/3441078808413360465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/3441078808413360465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/05/17-im-stuck-here-with-ghost-of-what-we.html' title='#17 I&apos;m Stuck Here With A Ghost of What We Used to Be'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-5310650876327132713</id><published>2009-04-28T20:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T22:41:46.431-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#16 If God Smoked Cheap Cigars</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;My first time attending church was a fun(?) experience. I laughed really hard because I'm not Christian and I asked questions that left the teacher pretty speechless. My first intention was to go and meet the girl that's all over my guy friend and to find out who has my other friend whipped. Not only did I finally see their convos in real life, but it was better than the facebook wall-to-walls!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends tried hard not to laugh at me...I can tell. I kept poking fun at the people. It's not like I'm against Christianity, but I just think it's pretty ridiculous. However, I think it's a nice thing to believe in when you have no one else to believe in. That's basically what all religion is I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a great laugh up until one of the members asked me to write my address and number down. -____-; They told me that once I come to church, they'll never let go of me. Is this what God wants? To force people into doing what they don't want to do? Or is this one of God's obstacle in life? Haha, just kidding. I hope you can sense the sarcasm through internet. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, I went to Cyberland with my friend and I watched him play Left 4 Dead. It was funny because it was right after Church and we were playing such a violent game.&lt;br /&gt;That's about it for that Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, they asked me to come back next Sunday, but I lied and told them I had an appointment when my appointment was actually on May 10th. I didn't want to give them hope that they actually have a chance of getting me to join, so definitely not next week. I decided on next next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was typical...school, homework, blah. Well, I baked sugar cookies for the student government bake sale and that was about it.&lt;br /&gt;Today, I made a rule for myself as the Day of Silence and I wouldn't talk to anyone. Of course, I failed. I talked to a lot of people...but not the people that I usually hung out with. Oh well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, that's it for today. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-5310650876327132713?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/5310650876327132713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/16-if-god-smoked-cheap-cigars.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5310650876327132713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5310650876327132713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/16-if-god-smoked-cheap-cigars.html' title='#16 If God Smoked Cheap Cigars'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-5060561681819956725</id><published>2009-04-25T19:33:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T20:05:32.491-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#15 Time Keeps Slipping Us By</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The weather was really nice today...a little too nice for my comfort.&lt;br /&gt;It hit the 80s and it was way too hot for me. Too sunny and too hot. Maybe I'm just used to the cool weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I finally learned how to cook a real dish. Well, I knew how to make french toast, but that's so basic. I learned how to make my own sauce for spaghetti and I'm really proud because it actually tasted great! I made a huge batch of the sauce and it's almost gone ^_^.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, my friend came over. We played on his PSP and did some random stuff. It was a nice relaxing hang out. Better than nothing anyways. After he left, my other friend came over with her little sister and her mom. We went to the park and she told me how her parents pulled the big "D" word out (divorce). I guess that's why she called me last week at midnight.&lt;br /&gt;She told me that she told our other friend first and she thought I was gonna be mad because I wasn't the first to know. -____-; I wonder what she sees me as.&lt;br /&gt;Then she told me that they weren't comforting at all. She told me that her mom is always complaining about her father not being home and stuff. She told me that her mother makes her dad sound like a bad guy.&lt;br /&gt;I told my friend that it's normal for her mother to react like that. She seemed confused at first but she understood after I explained it. All I really did was point out the obvious though. Her father is always working and her mother is the housewife. Obviously she wants her husband to spend more time at home with her and the kids and that's love. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be with her husband. But her father is always working late and by the time he gets home, she's already sleeping because she has to wake up early and take the kids to school. They hardly see each other and that's pretty sad.&lt;br /&gt;My friend told me that she sees it now. After that she told me that I was comforting. I rolled my eyes. I wasn't trying to be comforting, I was trying to make her grow up a little...but I didn't tell her that. I think she gets it. I'm just happy that she isn't one of those people who make a huge deal out of petty things. Her mother loves her father way too much to get a divorce, and of course, the kids too. There's no way they'll divorce. Unlike my parents. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After she told me she understood, I told her about our other friend. The three of us call each other god sisters because we knew each other since we were born. I told my friend how the other girl is still kind of hung over her ex because she keeps saying she hates him. After all, whenever we talk about relationships, our friend always brings her ex up. There's more...but I don't feel like listing it all.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, my friend was like, "Psych me. Do you think I'm over my ex?"&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want to tell her. So I just veered the topic to a different direction. But obviously, she was still a little hung over. But I think the only reason why was because her other friends would bring that guy up often. If they didn't, she would be over him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think anyone in the world is ever 100% over their ex(s). There'll always be a small memory of them somewhere. If they're smart enough, people will see that with every break-up, there's a lesson and more growing up to it. :) Well, that's what I think based on what I observe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, tomorrow I'm going to my friend's church. I can't believe it. I curse so much and do so much inappropriate things...I wonder how I'll behave at church. I'm not Christian either! Haha. Well, I'll write about my experience tomorrow if I have time. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it for today! Haha, I wrote a lot!&lt;br /&gt;Comment? or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-5060561681819956725?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/5060561681819956725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/15.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5060561681819956725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5060561681819956725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/15.html' title='#15 Time Keeps Slipping Us By'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-7948522419403948420</id><published>2009-04-24T00:39:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T00:49:51.536-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Las Vegas &amp; Grand Canyon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SfFDEn5xh-I/AAAAAAAAAFA/PHHNeTR_XVw/s1600-h/IMG_3563.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SfFDEn5xh-I/AAAAAAAAAFA/PHHNeTR_XVw/s400/IMG_3563.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328113580865849314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SfFEWEMTTUI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/-VPlEnBpldg/s1600-h/P1030184.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SfFEWEMTTUI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/-VPlEnBpldg/s400/P1030184.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328114980029156674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SfFDE6gunXI/AAAAAAAAAFI/29So2RpYxhQ/s1600-h/P1030126.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SfFDE6gunXI/AAAAAAAAAFI/29So2RpYxhQ/s400/P1030126.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328113585861074290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This was on my first trip to the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas in February. It was spectacular. The picture of Las Vegas was a sunset if I recall correctly. It is certainly a very unique city. I stayed at Mandalay Bay Hotel. It's right next to the Luxor, the place where Criss Angel performs. It's a black building with golden bright lining at night and it completely shines gold in the morning. In fact, Las Vegas looks like toy house material in the morning!&lt;br /&gt;The Grand Canyon was so unrealistic. It was like stepping into a painting! So much snow and it was so steep. I found animal prints at one point. :)&lt;br /&gt;It would've been a perfect trip if my mother would stop complaining about how my sister doesn't help the family at all when my sister is actually the one that does the most. It would've been the perfect belated-Christmas present without all that fighting and arguing and crying. It was a real downer.&lt;br /&gt;I'm totally going back to Vegas as a re-do of this trip. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-7948522419403948420?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/7948522419403948420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/las-vegas-grand-canyon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7948522419403948420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7948522419403948420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/las-vegas-grand-canyon.html' title='Las Vegas &amp; Grand Canyon'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SfFDEn5xh-I/AAAAAAAAAFA/PHHNeTR_XVw/s72-c/IMG_3563.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-7411207313633980122</id><published>2009-04-24T00:16:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T00:34:45.706-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#14 And It's Not Like It Hurts Much Anyway</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I'm starting to grow use to being by myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today our school did out annual Egg Drop Competition. Every student builds a container with only cardboard. We can't even use tape or string or staples to hold it together. The container has to be 12x12 inches. We drop it from 20 feet about ground and whichever is lightest and survived the drop gets to have their name in the school plaque forever. Blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mine worked, but it wasn't light enough to win.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the egg drop took a whole period - it even went into 2nd period! :). We did it outside in the park area where I'm always sitting alone. It's becoming a habit to sit in that area alone, so I just sat there without my friends. I wonder if I looked sad because many people came up to me and tried to talk to me, but I don't think understand that I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;like&lt;/span&gt; being alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my last blog, I complained about not being talked to enough by my friends. I also hoped that things would be better. It did get better the next day. They talked to me a little, but that was most likely because they were stuck with me, hahaha. I talked to some of them today, but it was basically the same kind of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I can keep this up...the whole talking to them and being alone thing. Oh yeah, tomorrow is a warm weather and all of them re going to Applebee's. They didn't invite me. My friend who was invited asked if I was going cause he thought I was invited, but I wasn't. It hurts a little, but whatever. They can invite whomever they want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got into the habit of starting my homework really late and ending up deprived of sleep. It's not good, but I can't help it. I can never seem to fall asleep easily these days. It sucks. :(.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, nothing much to say in today's entry. Just thought that I should get some thoughts into it. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;Comment? or not. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-7411207313633980122?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/7411207313633980122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/14-and-its-not-like-it-hurts-much.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7411207313633980122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/7411207313633980122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/14-and-its-not-like-it-hurts-much.html' title='#14 And It&apos;s Not Like It Hurts Much Anyway'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-6707154653216760135</id><published>2009-04-21T23:28:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T23:47:11.602-04:00</updated><title type='text'># 13 I Wanna Be Included In Your Conversation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I should be sleeping right now. But I can't fall asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School started two days ago, and already I want another break. I used to hang out in a group...well, to be a little blunt, I kind of put the group together. But now, I'm just drifting far away. At first it was just me leaving them to catch up with the guy I'm interested in. They said they understood and it was okay. However, when I was with them, they treated me as if I wasn't there. They walk pass me, hardly acknowledging I'm there anymore. I thought they said it was okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm growing sick of sitting in on a train ride and having nothing to say about their conversations because I can't find a place in it. It was okay being a loner at first, but this lon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;er&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; is turning lone&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ly&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the small things that make me want to transfer to my zoned school which is less than 10 minutes from house rather than the treacherous commute to my current school. I've thought about it so many times but I'm sure this whole thing will blow over...I hope. Hopefully it'll end without anyone getting hurt.&lt;br /&gt;This is such a childish topic...but it's still something that's on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I need is one person in my school to talk to and hang out with. I don't need a huge group. Just one person is enough. But I have none. My school is small, so everyone knows each other and everyone is already in a group of their own...loners are just there. Loners don't mind being alone. But I kind of do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish they would make an effort to talk to me. I tried, but it doesn't work if only one side is making the effort. Both sides have to work toward it, but it's not working so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, I'm getting a bit sleepy. Might as well end it here.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-6707154653216760135?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/6707154653216760135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/13-i-wanna-be-included-in-your.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6707154653216760135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6707154653216760135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/13-i-wanna-be-included-in-your.html' title='# 13 I Wanna Be Included In Your Conversation'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-482257274681446510</id><published>2009-04-19T19:33:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T20:16:31.821-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#12 Flashbacks Are Force Habit</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tomorrow's Monday...this means back to school. Oh! The irony! Haha, well, I guess it's not that bad...but still - school is a headache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I managed to finish all my homework on time but I still need to make up this one assignment that I didn't do. I'll just make it up before this marking period ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went to a barbecue. It's an annual bbq which I attend every year. On the way there, I flashed back to the first time I attended it. I remembered that I was very shy and afraid to try the Greek food because I wasn't used to it. I couldn't even finish one lamb chop by myself. The dog that resides there was only 3 years old. I wore dorky clothes that my mom picked out and the daughter of the party was only 2. And in a blink of an eye, the dog's already 10 and the little girl is now 9. Heck, we're already 1/3 into 2009...another 2/3 and it's already 2010!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home, I saw my neighbor helping his father put something up. I remember I used to roam the streets with him and his brother on our bikes every single day. When it got dark, we ran back home and grabbed our flashlights and continued roaming the streets.&lt;br /&gt;There was this time where I scrapped my knee really bad and I couldn't stand up to walk. His brother carried me to my door and everyone watched as my parents bandaged me up. By everyone, I mean the 5 kids that lived on my block.&lt;br /&gt;I see them walking with their friends sometimes and I wonder if they ever think back about those bicycle days. Everyone has their own life now. That big brother is now in his twenties and my other neighbors are starting to prep for college. Maybe it's too late to get everyone together and hang out again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize as the days become longer, I start to remember more about the past. I miss it a lot. Wish I could never grow older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this is it for now. I'm going to start giving my entries a title if I can. That way people will know what it's about...unless you think I shouldn't and keep it a surprise. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading. Comment? or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-482257274681446510?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/482257274681446510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/12-flashbacks-are-force-habit.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/482257274681446510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/482257274681446510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/12-flashbacks-are-force-habit.html' title='#12 Flashbacks Are Force Habit'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-252997255701169620</id><published>2009-04-18T13:52:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T14:06:09.097-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunrise and Sunset in Taiwan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SeoUxkyL6XI/AAAAAAAAADg/T_WNnRiDZEs/s1600-h/IMG_2369.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SeoUxkyL6XI/AAAAAAAAADg/T_WNnRiDZEs/s400/IMG_2369.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326092351239350642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SeoUxeDSekI/AAAAAAAAADY/rTjSsshqPbE/s1600-h/IMG_2423.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SeoUxeDSekI/AAAAAAAAADY/rTjSsshqPbE/s400/IMG_2423.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326092349432035906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SeoUxNAvucI/AAAAAAAAADQ/A4mhg-vTfzM/s1600-h/IMG_2284.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SeoUxNAvucI/AAAAAAAAADQ/A4mhg-vTfzM/s400/IMG_2284.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326092344857967042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I took these pictures last year when I was in Taiwan. The first and second picture are sunsets and the last one is a sunrise. I took the picture of the sunrise at Ali San.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't like camp last year because I had a really bad haircut and people don't usually wanna be friends with someone who look weird. So I was mostly alone and I had the time to take a lot of pictures. Even though I don't really like camp, I still miss some people there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-252997255701169620?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/252997255701169620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-took-these-pictures-last-year-when-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/252997255701169620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/252997255701169620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-took-these-pictures-last-year-when-i.html' title='Sunrise and Sunset in Taiwan'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SeoUxkyL6XI/AAAAAAAAADg/T_WNnRiDZEs/s72-c/IMG_2369.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-8844608330810397861</id><published>2009-04-18T03:11:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T03:40:16.893-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#11</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;It's 3:11 AM right now and I'm exhausted, but I can't seem to fall asleep. I'm pretty psyched for this event that's going on today. It's the Queens Center Mall Freeze. It's an event where everyone everyone stands in position of whatever they are doing for exactly 6 minutes. They can't move no matter what. Well, unless they're blocking an emergency exit. There's going to be &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; of people recording and I might even catch up with my old friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm...so let's talk about today.&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning to my dog barking in the backyard. Then I heard some birds making a weird sound on top of my grape rack. I'm assuming it's bird mating, but I'm not sure since I'm no bird expert. It was a terrible racking sound. I guess this is the sound of spring. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally finished my world history project...but this just means a start of another project. -.-&lt;br /&gt;This project is a little harder. It's an egg drop project and we're not allowed to use anything but cardboard to make it. Basically, we have to created something light and something that will protect the egg when we drop it 2-3 stories high up.&lt;br /&gt;My model is like an umbrella, but I'm not exactly sure how to create the dome shape with cardboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else about today...&lt;br /&gt;Oh, well...I went to the park today and met up with some friends that I haven't seen in almost a year. Loved seeing them again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh, it's already 3:37 AM right now...gonna try to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight (morning?) everyone. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-8844608330810397861?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/8844608330810397861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/11.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/8844608330810397861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/8844608330810397861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/11.html' title='#11'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-3496194890223672227</id><published>2009-04-16T12:34:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T12:52:00.579-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#10</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I'm just going to rant in this blog because I have something to rant about. So, if you don't enjoy listening to problems, you should just skip this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hasn't happened for a while - I mean...my dad taking his anger out on me. Even if it's minuscule, it still bothers me a lot.&lt;br /&gt;Today, I made french toast for my dad and I. It was my first time making it for breakfast. While I was preparing the toast, I heard him yelling downstairs, "BITCH! It won't accept it!". I was assuming he was complaining about a check or something.&lt;br /&gt;He came upstairs to see what I was doing and he helped me flip the toast on the pan. I made four slices; two for him and two for me. He only ate one. I asked if he didn't like it; he told me that he already ate before. I believed him because he always leaves the house early in the morning to go to our neighbor's house. I assumed he ate at his neighbors house.&lt;br /&gt;After he told me that, he went back downstairs like a hermit. Then he came back upstairs and went to the backyard and yelled at one of our dogs.&lt;br /&gt;From the backyard, he yelled at me, "If you're going to put the dog's leash up front, you have to check if he can reach the garbage or not! He's been flipping that garbage and I'm always the one that has to clean it up!"&lt;br /&gt;I put the dog up front a long time ago. He could've adjusted the position of the garbage can anytime he wanted. I didn't mind all that much that he didn't finish the toast I made, but I hated that he yelled at me just cause a check bounced. I have nothing to do with a check bouncing.&lt;br /&gt;Money is disgusting. It made him like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cleaned up everything in the kitchen, but I left my cookbook out. He also yelled at me for leaving it out.&lt;br /&gt;I made him breakfast and because of a check that bounced, he gets upset, doesn't finish the toast and yells at me. Thankfully, it wasn't as bad this time.&lt;br /&gt;In the past, he'd get so angry that he'd talk behind everyone's back. It was up to a point where I couldn't take it anymore and rebel. I learned that rebelling won't work with him, it'll just infuriate him more and make start throwing things at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. As much as it annoys me, family is still...family.&lt;br /&gt;That's all my ranting for today.&lt;br /&gt;Haha, thanks if you read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-3496194890223672227?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/3496194890223672227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/10.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/3496194890223672227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/3496194890223672227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/10.html' title='#10'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-924121813227524062</id><published>2009-04-14T21:33:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T22:10:36.592-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#9</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Wow, two posts in one day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry if I'm boring you people out with my long posts (not like anyone's actually reading, but okay). I'm just really happy right now because I had a great day without even spending money! Haha, you gotta spend money to even have fun these days.&lt;br /&gt;I invited three of my guy friends over today and they stayed for dinner. It was a lot of fun. We played cards and youtubed and watched TV. We even tried to do the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hoedown Throwdown&lt;/span&gt; by Miley Cyrus just for laughs. That dance is hilarious and also really fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first guy friend arrived at my house while I was showering. There wasn't anyone home, so I had to wrap a towel around myself and run to the door. Haha, I called him and I told him that he's not allowed to open the door until I give him the O.K. So I hurried to unlock the door and then I ran back to the bathroom and he came in. He's the same smoker guy from my previous entry.&lt;br /&gt;Then the second guy came over. He's super skinny and tall. He used to be afraid of giving hugs, but after meeting me, he likes hugs. :). Haha, I just bragged a little, but I'm proud that I changed someone in a positive way. Well, to me that's positive.&lt;br /&gt;My third friend came right after the second guy. He changed so much. I noticed things that I haven't noticed about him. His shoulders became broader and his facial structure matured. Haha, it was a pleasant change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unconciously, I kissed my second friend on the cheek. -.-;&lt;br /&gt;As open as I am to everyone, I don't usually kiss my guy friends on the cheek. But he was so close to me and I guess my instinct side kicked into me. 'Cause I notice that if people's face gets close to my face, I'll feel attracted to do something to them...usually involving a kiss. That made me sound like a slut.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I wanted to make up for the awkwardness by kissing my other two guys friends on the cheeks, but we were too into youtube...so I just left it as that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN...came dinner! Haha, the first 15 minutes was torture because none of us could eat properly. We were all too busy laughing at random things. At one point, my first friend laughed so hard that he spit his food out. Haha, that gave us all a good laugh. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they left, I talked to the guy I was interested in online. He asked me why he doesn't cry. He hasn't cried for over a year. I'm pretty sure he was expecting my answer to be like, "It's because you're so cold that you forgot how to cry" or some cliche crap that everyone else gives him. But I told him it was probably because he was afraid to feel strong emotions again. I'm sure it's because of that. Even if he was close to crying, some part of him probably told him not to cry because it's seen as dangerous. As of now, he's like a walking time-bomb...when he cries, he's gonna cry hard.&lt;br /&gt;I think he needs someone to talk to, and if he ever feels like opening up...I'll be there. I don't want to be one of those people who run out of things to say to him and just leave him on his own. I want to be there for him even if he hardly knows me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) That's all for now. Comment? or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-924121813227524062?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/924121813227524062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/9.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/924121813227524062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/924121813227524062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/9.html' title='#9'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-3844745100535725558</id><published>2009-04-14T12:19:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T22:01:27.514-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#8</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My spring break is starting to dull now that it's at its halfway mark...but hopefully it'll liven up again! For now, I should just start on my projects and homeworks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'll update you on my spring break so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Day 1: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite frankly, I forgot what I did on 4/9. So, no updates on that day, haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Day 2:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on 4/10, I went out with my friend and met two new people. I went to get a cartilage piercing...my dad doesn't know though. I was really hesitant at first, but the person did it really quick, so I couldn't reject it and he pierced it. I was surprised that it didn't hurt at all. But I kept touching it, so now it's starting to burn a little.&lt;br /&gt;After getting my cartilage pierced, I went to play pool with them. My sister called while I was playing pool and I told her where I was. She told me that she doesn't want me hanging out at pool places. I don't really see what's the big deal. It's located in the slums of where I live, but the pool place isn't that bad. She told me she went there before when she was my age. I told her that I wasn't her and I don't get into the same kind of trouble she does.&lt;br /&gt;After that, I went to my sister's apartment in Astoria. We hung out and played the wii for a bit and then my dad went to pick me up. He told me that he didn't really want me playing pool either. He said if I was to go, he wants to drop me off. Fair deal. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Day 3:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4/11 - I woke up at 7:45 to take my dog to the vet. He's supposed to have his teeth pulled and get neutered because we don't want him getting our other dog pregnant. We were supposed to make sure he didn't eat at all after midnight, but my dad fed him so his appointment changed to Monday. Other than that, nothing else happened...just stayed home on my laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Day 4:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4/12 - I went over to my friend's house to celebrate her little sister's birthday. I knew them since they were born. Haha, she's like my god sister along with this other girl. I love them both so much. Anyways, at the party, we hung out and watched Bedtime Stories. It was a cute movie. After that, we went to the park even though it was late and pretty dark out. At the park, I met up with another childhood friend. He walked with us back to the house and we at some cake. After that, we played volleyball on the streets and then he walked me home.&lt;br /&gt;I would normally call my dad to pick me up, but he told me he was going to sleep and told me ask one of the parents to take me home. But I'm really sick of asking other people to drive me home because it makes me seem really helpless. I'm too scared to walk around my neighborhood at night..so it was a good thing my friend was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Day 5:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4/13 - Yesterday was a kind of awkward day. I recieved an Instant Message (IM) from my first boyfriend from 5th grade asking to come over. I said he could come over. I didn't want to look like a loser or make a bad imrpession since I haven't actually talked to him for years...so I cleaned my room a little. Haha. Anyways, I went to the park to pick him up and he came over. We hung out a little and he went to my room and layed down on my bed. It was kind of weird. We didn't even talk when we were going out..but that's because we were only in 5th grade and we were too shy. :)&lt;br /&gt;He talked to me about his ex-girlfriend and how upset he was about everything. He told me that he wanted to die because he "lost" his friends and his gf and everything. I told him that he didn't lose his friends, he walked out on them and that he's still young and has a long way to go. Then I gave him my last condom and told him to be safe. Haha, cause he told me that he trust condoms anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Right after he left, my other elementary friend came over. She also dated him before. I told her about everything that happened when he came over and she talked to me about her ex-boyfriend and she missed him.&lt;br /&gt;Then my sister came over and she bought some Boston Market. My friend and I went to the shop nearby our neighborhood and she bought some things.&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I forgot to say...I took my dog to the vet and he got neutered and got all his teeth pulled. :( Now I have to feed him medicine everyday. I feel bad for him...but it's all for the better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love how I typed so much and there's no one that's actually going to comment or read anything. Haha, I think I try too hard sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-3844745100535725558?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/3844745100535725558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/8.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/3844745100535725558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/3844745100535725558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/8.html' title='#8'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-8474122133916789046</id><published>2009-04-10T12:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T12:49:55.307-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pillow Fight NYC 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sd92hUdPehI/AAAAAAAAACg/CquhDlqJHVo/s1600-h/IMG_4330.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sd92hUdPehI/AAAAAAAAACg/CquhDlqJHVo/s400/IMG_4330.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323103599374334482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sd92g36H-1I/AAAAAAAAACY/ZPP95hX9wkA/s1600-h/IMG_4353.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sd92g36H-1I/AAAAAAAAACY/ZPP95hX9wkA/s400/IMG_4353.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323103591710849874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sd93hdhspNI/AAAAAAAAACo/AfASEbSAUJs/s1600-h/IMG_4363.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sd93hdhspNI/AAAAAAAAACo/AfASEbSAUJs/s400/IMG_4363.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323104701320570066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It was absolutely insane and dangerously fun. Haha, many people lost things and some even had a broken nose. I heard a fight occurred at Starbucks after and a 10 year old girl went missing. I'm pretty sure they found her after though.&lt;br /&gt;I think the picture of the lady with the fake butt was hilarious. It really brings out the New Yorker rebel.&lt;br /&gt;It took place on April 4th, 2009 at Wall Street. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-8474122133916789046?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/8474122133916789046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/pillow-fight-nyc-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/8474122133916789046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/8474122133916789046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/pillow-fight-nyc-2009.html' title='Pillow Fight NYC 2009'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Sd92hUdPehI/AAAAAAAAACg/CquhDlqJHVo/s72-c/IMG_4330.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-8986321442663789978</id><published>2009-04-06T19:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T19:50:29.742-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#7</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I am so excited for spring break! Finally a whole week and a half to just relax.&lt;br /&gt;Last night I pulled an all-nighter making up for work that was due weeks ago. It turned out I only needed two of the 8 pages that printed. Haha~ oh well. I still didn't complete my technical report on it...but whatever. At least I got it done!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I realize the farthest I can go with that guy is just being good friends and I'm totally cool with that. :). He still loves his ex very dearly and I'll support him. If he ever needs anyone to talk to, I'll be there...just as a comfort zone perhaps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to last weekends activities!&lt;br /&gt;My friend hosted her birthday last Saturday, 04/04 and it happened to be the same date as the NYC Pillow Fight at Wall Street. We ended up going to the pillow fight and everyone came back with feathers on them. ^^. I didn't participate thought, I just stood at the sidelines and took pics. I don't think I'd really want to join it anyways. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the pillow fight was very crazy. A 10 year-old girl went missing and then a lady got arrested for hitting a cop with a pillow and a fight was brought up at starbucks...yup. All that craziness. But that's what I like about an event like that...the craziness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Attending (kind of) that event made me want to host another Free Hugs event during my spring break. The last time I helped host that event, only about 40 of the 400 people showed up. -____-; Lol, yeah that was a failed attempt...but then again, that was the coldest day of 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the pillow fight, we went to chill at her place and lived it like we were in 5th grade. Yeah, with all those board games and etc. It was very fun. I haven't laughed that hard in a while...and it felt great! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then yesterday...cooped up at home doing hw. Except for a few hours when I went out with my sis to go grab some food. Haha, that was a breather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Food = Smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment or not....bye~!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-8986321442663789978?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/8986321442663789978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/7.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/8986321442663789978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/8986321442663789978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/7.html' title='#7'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-5254413185980180320</id><published>2009-04-01T18:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T19:08:34.116-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hawaii 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SdPxeP3Nx8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/Mx9YON6eI1M/s1600-h/IMG_0998.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SdPxeP3Nx8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/Mx9YON6eI1M/s400/IMG_0998.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319861086811178946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SdPxeJzluiI/AAAAAAAAACI/ljYN4_LLEFE/s1600-h/IMG_1165.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SdPxeJzluiI/AAAAAAAAACI/ljYN4_LLEFE/s400/IMG_1165.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319861085185358370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SdPxd2dOzbI/AAAAAAAAACA/B6budGc9EYw/s1600-h/IMG_0962.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SdPxd2dOzbI/AAAAAAAAACA/B6budGc9EYw/s400/IMG_0962.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319861079991307698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I took these pictures in 2007 in Hawaii. That place is really beautiful. I met people that had a huge impact on my life. I really miss it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-5254413185980180320?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/5254413185980180320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/hawaii-2007.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5254413185980180320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/5254413185980180320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/04/hawaii-2007.html' title='Hawaii 2007'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SdPxeP3Nx8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/Mx9YON6eI1M/s72-c/IMG_0998.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-1277200738439041979</id><published>2009-03-30T19:55:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T20:20:31.787-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#6</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I read all my entries and I annoy myself reading it. I complain so much...but who else am I supposed to complain to if I don't let it out here? Even though no one reads this, I feel kind of safe here. Safe's not the right word...more like...at home? I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends constantly tell me about how mature I am. I appreciate they think of my that way, but if I was so mature, I would know how to handle my emotions more. I just kind of think they're kind of stupid. High school drama really isn't anything big; it's just the people who blow the whole situation out of proportion. I'll admit, I thought the smallest things were pretty big sometimes, but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend got mad at me after I confronted her about her trying weed. I just wanted to know if she liked it, but I kind of understand why she got mad. She doesn't like it when someone is so concerned about her - like a mother...and I often give off a motherly vibe. I wasn't mad at her or anything; actually, I understood her. 'Cause at some point in my life, I was about to try to smoke too. Well, not weed, just cigarettes. Good thing I didn't :) above the influence. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm...what else to say?&lt;br /&gt;Oh right. My mother wants me to go back to Taiwan for my summer break. I really don't want to because I want to finish all my community service hours. She's a sad, but I think she understands. I hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just found out though online chats with my "big sister" that she has mixed feelings for the guy I got interested in. I put quotes on "big sister" because she's from school. Our school has the Big Sibling program and she happens to be my big sister when I first enrolled. I guess this means for me to move on. I always knew that the closest I could be with him is just good friends. Whatever. Like I said in the previous entry, small crush - they come and go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment? or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-1277200738439041979?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/1277200738439041979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/6.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/1277200738439041979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/1277200738439041979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/6.html' title='#6'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-2982525431695204229</id><published>2009-03-29T20:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T20:36:55.893-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#5</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I finally talked to this guy today...but it was only online. He has a really cynical sense of humour and is very sarcastic. However, I think I annoyed him in a way :(. Oh well, it's a start. We all have to start somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;He views girls as immature and I agree. Haha, I know I can be immature at times...especially when dealing with relationships. I can't help it. It's like one of the things that I can't help but be stupid in.&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;hate &lt;/span&gt;to say I have a crush on him, but maybe I do. I really hope I don't though. I don't think I'm ready for a relationship and facing the rejection that I'm going to receive from him. So I'm just never going to confess. It's just a small crush, I'm sure it'll go away in no time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also found out today that my friend tried to smoke weed. She was influenced by my other friend. I'm really disappointed in both of them, but there's nothing I can do...only talk and talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came to the conclusion a long time ago that talk doesn't really do anything...it's willpower. You can't change just by saying you want to change, you have to have the will to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's all for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-2982525431695204229?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/2982525431695204229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/5.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2982525431695204229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/2982525431695204229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/5.html' title='#5'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-6800826901367941707</id><published>2009-03-26T18:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T18:57:36.327-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#4</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Recently, I've been noticing this guy who's in my lunch period. I talked about him to my friend and suddenly my friend thinks I like him. I know perfectly well that'll never happen though. Not now. Definitely. Not. Now.&lt;br /&gt;There was only one person that I ever felt love for and when he broke up with me...I don't know. I really don't know how I lived through that. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This boy caught my eye because he really reminds me of how I was 1-2 years ago. A loner, and perfectly fine being a loner. Always in our own worlds, with our music and art all the time. Talking with people sometimes, but never really hanging out with them...Yeah, he reminds me of me.&lt;br /&gt;I remember the first time someone asked me to sit with them during lunch was this girl with a whole bunch of friends. She was cool and she's still my friend. I sat with them and I had a good time...and suddenly, I wasn't that much of a loner.&lt;br /&gt;So right now, I feel like getting to know him. I wanna be his friend but I don't know how to approach him. He seems so distant. I wish I was as courageous as that girl so I can invite him to sit with me during lunch. I don't know if he'll like sitting with us, but it's worth a shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha, I just noticed this blog is shorter than the rest.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, please comment! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-6800826901367941707?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/6800826901367941707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/4.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6800826901367941707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6800826901367941707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/4.html' title='#4'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-6349959223489419602</id><published>2009-03-17T20:57:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T21:00:10.079-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Vitamin Water</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/ScBHTCQNAiI/AAAAAAAAAB4/OqfP-_8Vknc/s1600-h/IMG_1987.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/ScBHTCQNAiI/AAAAAAAAAB4/OqfP-_8Vknc/s400/IMG_1987.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314325952645104162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/ScBHS65DeCI/AAAAAAAAABw/DPwaTzmKkxQ/s1600-h/IMG_1943.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/ScBHS65DeCI/AAAAAAAAABw/DPwaTzmKkxQ/s400/IMG_1943.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314325950668961826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" &gt;I really can't live without Vitamin Water. It seriously is my lifesaver. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-6349959223489419602?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/6349959223489419602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/vitamin-water.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6349959223489419602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/6349959223489419602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/vitamin-water.html' title='Vitamin Water'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/ScBHTCQNAiI/AAAAAAAAAB4/OqfP-_8Vknc/s72-c/IMG_1987.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-1042280316640810064</id><published>2009-03-17T20:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T20:49:14.376-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#3</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Happy St. Patrick's Day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a really nice day. It was finally warm! So I hung out with my friends, but when I got home, I remembered the pile of homework that I haven't yet completed...&lt;br /&gt;I should get started, but procrastinating is too addicting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having a half-day soon, so I'm planning on catching up with my friends that I don't keep in contact with as often. They're going to bring their school friends along. I can't wait to see them again! I also really wanna make new friends. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just before, I was talking to my friends. He was telling me about how he saw this guy and a girl on the bus who both spoke poor English. He said that one of them was Japanese and the other girl was Chinese. He told me how he thought it was really sweet that both of them were laughing and trying to communicate with each other even though they spoke bad English.&lt;br /&gt;When he told me this, I imagined the whole scene. It really is sweet. But after the conversation ended, I thought back on my past relationships and I came to the conclusion that I shouldn't ever fall in love again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, there was only one time out of all my relationships that I actually felt love. And it ended with a bad aftertaste. I love love and being in love. I don't think I wanna taste falling out of it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, I've managed to mask most of my family problems and keep them to myself. Right now, I'm trying to master masking my feelings of love. I was doing pretty well until February 13th.&lt;br /&gt;That day, everyone exchanged roses and received chocolates from anonymous people in school. I even bought my friends one...but I never got one. I guess I was jealous, and jealousy is an ugly thing. I was so ugly that day...being a little selfish and wanting love. It's no wonder that I didn't receive anything.&lt;br /&gt;But I know that love isn't everything and I know it's quite stupid of me to think of it when I'm still studying in school. I know I should concentrate only on school...but school is just not my thing. I'm way more into creating things rather than analyzing and memorizing formulas. Haha, well that's just me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, I wrote quite a lot today. I better end it now before no one reads my blog. :)&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I'm always looking for new people to talk to. It's boring posting when no one reads...so comment me anytime!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-1042280316640810064?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/1042280316640810064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/1042280316640810064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/1042280316640810064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/3.html' title='#3'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-4992901778869737497</id><published>2009-03-16T00:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:22:22.658-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;"It's a nice day to start again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hmmm...I'm not exactly sure where to start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a really nice day out, but I stayed at home and did absolutely nothing. I was unbelievably bored. My dad was out for two days, so I didn't see him during the day at all. Usually, I'd invite my friends over and we'd hang around and play the wii, but I didn't do that today.&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I lounged around the house and got some homework done and played Wii Monopoly myself. I ordered pizza and ate cup noodles myself too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, I felt like a loser. There was finally a day where I had the place to myself, and I didn't do anything about it. I could've invited my friends...I just didn't. I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier this evening, I was talking to my friend about the cliques in my school. He told me that I was part of the 'asian crew' which is kinda true. I told him that I didn't really want to be constantly associated with them because I would like to make new friends. I did make some new friends, but no matter what, I was always still labeled with them. He said I got associated too early. Haha&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Oh...I totally forgot to introduce myself even though I practically said a lot of things about myself in the 1st entry.&lt;br /&gt;Please call me Jay...even though it's not my real name. I'm a high school student and I'm pretty bored of life. I created this blog as an outlet for ranting and in hopes of making new friends. I really enjoy music, photography, writing and art. My favorite art medium is sculptures and collage. I often listen to my friends rant about their problems...and I hate to bother them with my own. So, I'll just rant about mine on this blog. :)&lt;br /&gt;Some day, I hope to become a therapist or psychologist and perhaps help my mom and dad with their problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's all I have to say for today. Um, please comment! I love hearing from new people. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-4992901778869737497?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/4992901778869737497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4992901778869737497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/4992901778869737497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/2.html' title='#2'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-1727098092102629495</id><published>2009-03-14T21:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T21:58:08.433-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lake George</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SbxgmJy3TyI/AAAAAAAAAAk/0i-dDP26Hcs/s1600-h/Lake+George+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SbxgmJy3TyI/AAAAAAAAAAk/0i-dDP26Hcs/s400/Lake+George+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313227868970897186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SbxgmPMwMoI/AAAAAAAAAAc/qObNF2kyjQU/s1600-h/Lake+George+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SbxgmPMwMoI/AAAAAAAAAAc/qObNF2kyjQU/s400/Lake+George+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313227870421660290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I never really liked to go camping whenever my friends asked me to. I finally went with them in 2007. The view from the lake was really beautiful. I miss this place a lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-1727098092102629495?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/1727098092102629495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/lake-george.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/1727098092102629495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/1727098092102629495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2009/03/lake-george.html' title='Lake George'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/SbxgmJy3TyI/AAAAAAAAAAk/0i-dDP26Hcs/s72-c/Lake+George+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318973520245391054.post-3944413578832729997</id><published>2008-12-25T00:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T21:31:23.879-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You know, sometimes you don't know what to do with your life. It just seems hopeless and helpless sometimes. And, sometimes, you can't help to think it's your only choice to commit suicide.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if that's what my mother felt when she attempted that foolish act.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't begin to explain how crazed her eyes were and how much she craved for death. Even though I know I couldn't help her, I tried to understand her. What I've learned was that my family, including myself and my half-sister, pushed her to her edge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, obviously everyone is born with a positive outlook on life; also, obviously, the outlook changes once you turn seven because that's the age where children begin understanding the world around them. It's the age where you remove the personality that you think isn't suitable to today's society. It's the age where you lock that other half of you away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those chipped away memories peel away quickly and you start a new chapter once you turn seven, hardly ever remembering the years before it. But research shows that an average human being recall tragic events clearer than happy and positive events.&lt;br /&gt;If you're happy with most of your life, you'd like to disagree.&lt;br /&gt;If you're weighing more on the unhappy side, you'd agree.&lt;br /&gt;However, if you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;are &lt;/span&gt;happy with you life... you'd most certainly agree if you take a small flashback. All humans would rather seek the positive side rather than negative. But that's already obvious.&lt;br /&gt;So...I wonder why my mother chose to seek the negative side...take the downfall. I wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess her final breaking point was when my half-sister's father passed away.&lt;br /&gt;Her doctor explained that her brain was like a balloon of stress. It would fill up until it popped and that news popped the balloon for her. I remember that day like yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh, I won't post the whole story up. Don't really feel like thinking back on it. :)&lt;br /&gt;I'll try some other day where I'm in need for random people to talk to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/318973520245391054-3944413578832729997?l=spilled-wine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/feeds/3944413578832729997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2008/12/1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/3944413578832729997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/318973520245391054/posts/default/3944413578832729997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spilled-wine.blogspot.com/2008/12/1.html' title='#1'/><author><name>breakthewindxx</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07492132068593304097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cPuSJL55OFc/Seu01UWD6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5ShAEv6d9UM/S220/umbrella..jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
