<?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-4525348494232588468</id><updated>2012-02-16T02:21:54.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>VasaAntha</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-4730027790445636850</id><published>2008-07-13T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T18:15:52.321-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cycling</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#66ff99;"&gt;Yesterday was really really tiring. But I had lotsa fun. From waiting for about one half an hour for dearest Valli to arrive at Kallang station and looking like some slut waiting to be picked up(that place is freaky). To getting off at the ulu East Coast interchange wrongly and taking a bus back. And then trying to control our piss by distracting ourselves and talking about other things. And then ending up laughing even harder and wanting to piss even more. Haha. It was damn funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then cycling halfway, only to return back for me to change my shoes. You must admit that after changing my shoes, I was far better than you at cycling ok..haha. The best part was the jetty la. I'm still wondering if those three guys wanted to steal our wallets. Scary man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually the best part wasn't the jetty. The best part was sitting on the sand, on newspapers with our own candlelight dinner(we substituted candles with the hp light and of course there was the moonlight, and dinner wasn't really a meal..haha). And playing all the anjac songs on our hps. Esp singing to kuchi mella. Lol. I swear anyone hearing us would have gotten the wrong idea. Two girls somemore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all that fun, this morning I couldn't wake up. Funniest thing is when my alarm went off, I was thinkin "why have I set my alarm at 6? Isn't it Sunday today? Am I nuts?" Thank God I realised after a while that it's Monday and I gotta move my ass. And I am so very tired. But, it was worth it la. We should do it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="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/4525348494232588468-4730027790445636850?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4730027790445636850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4730027790445636850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/07/cycling.html' title='Cycling'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-8169293644341212039</id><published>2008-06-10T19:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T19:33:18.781-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Save our Landmarks?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;If you have read the papers recently, you would have seen some people protesting against old buildings being demolished in Singapore, in the name of modernisation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I am totally against that idea as well. I love seeing the Golden Mile complex on my way to town. It reminds me of fact that there is at least some of Singapore's history left. It is also the ONLY building in Singapore with such an infrastructure. These may not be the glamorous looking buildings obviously, but they speak volumes of our past. And how far we have come from there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;It's not just about preserving our past, but also reliving the past. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Tanjong&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Pagar&lt;/span&gt; is one the areas which is likely to go through major development. As it is, old &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;coffeeshops&lt;/span&gt; are gone and new 'chill out' places like Starbucks and Mr Beans have sprung out at every corner there. However, it brings back so many memories for me, each time I go there. And I can't bear to see those blocks being broken down into mere bricks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;If people are worried that these buildings may not be appealing enough to attract tourists, I think they are wrong. When I went to Switzerland, what really fascinated me was the capital city which was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Bern&lt;/span&gt;. I'm sure a lot has been done to give the city a modern touch. However, the architecture of the buildings fascinated me. Those buildings had been preserved with their unique architectural designs. And for a person like me who had been in Singapore almost her entire life, I felt like I was in a totally different world altogether.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;So why can't Singapore's buildings be preserved? If they want to change it, perhaps some painting works can be done, or better lift services? But, I strongly object to the idea of the entire building being torn down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-8169293644341212039?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/8169293644341212039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/8169293644341212039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/06/save-our-landmarks.html' title='Save our Landmarks?'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-4997039953471786371</id><published>2008-06-03T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T23:14:56.781-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I can't wake up on time. At all. Each time the alarm rings, I tell myself, my sleep is so very impt to me and shut my eyes again. The opportunity cost of an extra half an hour of sleep? $7.&lt;br /&gt;That's the taxi fare to get to my workplace on time. Urgh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all this staring at the computer isn't helping at all. How does my brother play computer 16 hours a day..I have no idea. I stare at this thing for 2 hours and that's it. I can't take it anymore. It is the saturation point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday's interview is really causing me sleepless nights. I really hope I can pass the test. What if I don't? It's not that big a deal. But it's just that I'm really crossing my fingers. In a funny way, I want that job. I just hope I can get through the test. The interview shouldn't be so much of a problem. It's the test I am terrified about..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-4997039953471786371?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4997039953471786371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4997039953471786371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-cant-wake-up-on-time.html' title=''/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-7485411278596163160</id><published>2008-05-15T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T18:41:31.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't wait</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;As I'm at work, I can't help but to think of what I really wish to be, or what I really wish to do. In a way, it is like a blessing in disguise that I'm working at a school. For ONCE in my life, I think I finally know that I really want to go into teaching. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;Just after getting my diploma, I was at a terrible fix, wondering what I should do next. Then I decided to go ahead with my Management Degree. Why? Because it seemed worth it. It seemed like the right thing to do as I had prior knowledge on management subjects. Because everyone else around me started taking up a business degree. Most importantly, because I badly wanted a degree. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;I never really thought about the consequences of taking something up I never really liked and I never really wanted to do. I just wanted to be degree holder very badly. However, what is the point really, of doing something, or even studying something you don't like? I am not getting any younger. Furthermore, since everyone else around me seem to be having a degree, I decided to get one as well. But I thank god that I finally realised, that it is not the time, but it is really about pursuing something you really want to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;I dropped my degree, and I was confused about the consequences. What if I don't get into teaching? What if I don't like teaching eventually? And I am still worried about the first question. But the second one, luckily for me, I get to see how teachers work in a school. I even got to take care of classes. I get to see how everything works in a school. Lastly, I got to know that this is what I would love to do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;Honestly, I will be broken if I don't get into teaching. But, I won't regret dropping my management degree. Simply because that is not what I want to do. I went for the bridging course and I just thought to myself..why the hell am I studying &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Econs&lt;/span&gt; again? That subject was the very reason why I couldn't get into NUS. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;I have finally decided to pursue my dreams. I don't care how much older I am going to get, or what others think of me when they find out that my sister is a doctor and I am only a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dipl&lt;/span&gt;0ma holder. But, I am going to do something I really want to do for the first time in my life. And hopefully, hopefully..one day I can tell the rest that they should not have followed the crowd and that they should have just taken up something they love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-7485411278596163160?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/7485411278596163160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/7485411278596163160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/05/cant-wait.html' title='Can&apos;t wait'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-6114592740851935353</id><published>2008-05-09T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T09:04:04.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I can't believe the recent series of events.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I finally got a job. And it all happened so fast that I can't even believe that I'm going to work. It's something which I think I would really love to do. It is also something which would create a good opportunity for my future career which I'm really hoping to get. Seeing all the Primary school kids just made me smile. The class monitor was like "Class greet!"..and everyone went "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Gooooooddmorniiiing&lt;/span&gt;!" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Haha&lt;/span&gt;. After so many years, they still greet the same way. They were really cute.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Just the day before &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;yst&lt;/span&gt;, I went for a medical check up at Amara Hotel. And when the the manager asked me if I knew where Amara Hotel was, I couldn't help but to smile. When I walked along the hotel, so many memories came pouring back. How my grandparents and I used to go for a walk every night, and they would bring me to the hotel to see the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;aquarium&lt;/span&gt;. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;aquarium&lt;/span&gt; was no longer there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Then the market opposite the hotel. It has the best dessert stalls and I remember how I'll go there to have c&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hendol&lt;/span&gt; after Kindergarten. The flower shop which I used to go to alone to buy flowers, cos my Grandma insisted that I had to learn to talk and be independent. But my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Grandma&lt;/span&gt;, being so darn cute, will hide behind the pillar without my knowledge just in case I get bullied by the florist or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;smth&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;And of course my grandparents' house. I couldn't go up to the house obviously as they are tenants staying there now. Moreover, I was already getting quite emotional and I didn't want to go any further. Words can't explain how much I want to turn back time. I won't even say I felt nostalgic because nostalgia has a positive connotation. I felt so horrible, remembering the fact that I can never see my grandfather again. Realising that I can never relive my childhood. And how things have changed and will change. In a few years, I am very sure those old blocks will be demolished as well. As it is, they have changed the place in so many ways.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I can only live with the memories now...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-6114592740851935353?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/6114592740851935353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/6114592740851935353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-wish.html' title='I wish..'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-4406907531007060813</id><published>2008-04-29T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T10:44:11.804-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Think Positive</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I hate to write about depressing issues. So here's my attempt at turning even the most depressing issues, into something positive..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;It's alright that we don't talk anymore. I mean ever since you got attached and found a job and all, we stopped talking everyday anyway. Just that when I need someone to talk to or cry to, I'll really feel the pinch. In a funny way, this has made me realise my own faults. It has made me realise that my ego isn't going to do me any good at all. It has made me realise that each time I snap, I inevitably hurt someone else. It also has made me realise that friendship isn't lifelong. As we grow older, we have other commitments; bigger commitments. And we can't be sitting down and thinking about friendship, or 'friends-forever' like some teenagers. We have to grow out of it. And I'm learning to grow out of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;When you're really stressed, that's when you start remembering every single person who has hurt you. And I've never really had a sister to begin with. But it's alright because my time will come. This difficult stage will pass eventually, and I'm sure my dreams will come true. And I thank god that although I don't really have a sister, I have great friends and my Aunt. These people have been so much like sisters to me, that I never had the need to regret anything. And even now, I shouldn't be regretting anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;I'm always wanting to be appreciated. I'm always wanting recognition for my hard work. I mean who doesn't? But when I don't get it, I get very upset. I feel like bursting and screaming and confronting the people who are supposed to thank me, and asking them why they didn't do so. Esp when I feel that women, never really get the due recognition they're supposed to get. But it's good in a way because, I get a feel of work life. At my future work place, that's how people are going to treat you. So, it's good that I got to experience those politics in a miniature scale.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;As for cash, I'm totally broke for now, but all bad things come to an end as well. Thanks to growth dividends!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Thanks Rashmi..for being there for me. I was a few seconds away from going completely berserk..thanks once again..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-4406907531007060813?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4406907531007060813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4406907531007060813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-hate-to-write-about-depressing-issues.html' title='Think Positive'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-2801419376033254577</id><published>2008-04-24T10:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T10:27:08.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Amazed and numbed</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I've never heard you say that you want to end this friendship. In a funny way, it's worse than a break up. My heart just feels so heavy now.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And you can't deny the fact that the reason why you so confidently decided to throw away this friendship, is because you have a boyfriend now. It's funny how a man who enters your life way later than I did can get so much of importance. Has the thought of ending your relationship with him ever crossed your mind? No isn't it. But now.. you decided to just cut contact with me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But who am I kidding? Who needs friends when you've already found your other half isn't it? And all these over an extremely minor issue. So 7 years of friendship becomes nothing each time I snap. Perhaps according to you, all I've been doing for the past 7 years is to snap. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I guess I've never been there for you when you had to cry your heart out. I guess I never cried when YOU were hurt. I guess I never spoke so well about you to my mum, that she loves u as much as she loves me. I guess I never did anything good for you..for these past 7 years.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seriously, it's that easy huh..to just throw everything away? I'm amazed. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I lost the little bit of faith I had in relationships when I was cheated for the third time. But now, I've lost the whole lot of faith I had in friendship, when you told me you're willing to just..throw everything away. Just. like. that.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Things change isn't it? Stupid me. I never realise that. Well, honestly I'm so devoid of feelings already. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I don't have any energy to cry anymore or even feel sad for that matter.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I wish I had some asshole as a boyfriend in my life right now, so that I can easily get over this, and easily not care about losing a friend as well..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On a different note, Rashmi.. thanks a lot for the Brownie and the Punjabi suit. I still can't digest the fact that you appeared at the TP audi out of nowhere. It was really really such a sweet thing to do. Thanks you:-) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-2801419376033254577?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/2801419376033254577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/2801419376033254577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/04/amazed-and-numbed.html' title='Amazed and numbed'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-3049786189446340512</id><published>2008-04-12T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-12T18:59:48.769-07:00</updated><title type='text'>After one year</title><content type='html'>It's Tamil New Year. Usually this day would not really be of much significance to me besides the fact that I get to savour my mum's excellent vegetarian food. However, this year it reminds me of what exactly I did one year ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I had been so dumb to do such a thing. How I refused to listen to my best friend's word of advice and went against her. I realise it now but I can't turn back time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know about others but I.. NEVER listen. If I think it's right, I'll do it. And last year, at this point of time, I recall how much I wanted to prove to everyone else that what I did was absolutely right. But only that it wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't even believe it has been a year and still no justice has been done. I've been sitting around and waiting far too long for something to happen. I can't hold up all these pent up feelings of hatred in me..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-3049786189446340512?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/3049786189446340512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/3049786189446340512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/04/after-one-year.html' title='After one year'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-3932068261557119529</id><published>2008-04-05T08:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T08:04:09.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Help</title><content type='html'>I need a life. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got too many things to do..I think I need a proxy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-3932068261557119529?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/3932068261557119529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/3932068261557119529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/04/help.html' title='Help'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-1498786747030356630</id><published>2008-04-03T20:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T21:48:19.328-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Four random issues</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;My last post was published almost a month back. I have had absolutely no time to write any new entries.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Anyway, I'm just gonna write very random things for now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Firstly, Swarnam preparations...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;Although draining, I really think I'm gonna miss it big time. Especially since this is my last year. If there's one thing I'll remember when I leave TP, it would be ICG and Swarnam. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;Even though we've been dancing every single day now, for at least 2 hours..we fail to lose weight because we're either at Tekka or the prata shop opposite school eating briyani during lunch. It's really fun when you go with a big bunch of nutcases and whack briyani together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;And although folk dance was on the verge of being scraped off the list because of a million  problems, I'm really glad that everything fell into place eventually. I'm so glad that we didn't give up. Just that I suck as a teacher la..Sasi should know that. Teaching is just not my cup of tea. Impatience is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Secondly, speaking of Sasi...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;This girl was so damn sweet. You know how life can be so mundane at times without a special someone or even a crush for that matter. My complete disdain for guys aside, I admit that life can be pretty boring at times. But, I guess with friends like her it just makes up for that emptiness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;So she got her first pay, and she knows how broke I am, and how I've always been wanting a water bottle. I mean I buy mineral water EVERY SINGLE day. Now, let's say one bottle costs $1, I spend at least $365 a year on mineral water. So I've always been wanting to cut costs on that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;And Sasi and I were looking at water bottles and I tell her I'm gonna get one. She takes the one I like and pays for it and refuses to let me pay her back. On top of that, she puts the hair clip which I really liked into the bag without my knowledge. Earlier on she claimed that she was buying the clip for her colleague. I was really touched. I know she has a million expenses herself. But her her gesture was just really touching.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thirdly, my degree programme...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;officially started yst. I went for the Bridging course and boy was I on the verge on dying. I think I've never felt that exhausted in my entire life. I'm not the sort to sit and complain to ppl that it's tiring or whatever. Usually I just take with a pinch of salt just as I did during my Student Internship period. Cos I believe the more you think of it and make it a big issue, the more it's gonna be hard on you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;But seriously, yst I just felt like calling someone and crying to them. And my hp battery died. I was in school since 10 in the morning to practise dance. After like 6 hours of practise(I'm not kidding), I dragged myself to go for the class. When I took the bus back home I was seriously squinting my eyes for some reason. It was an involuntary action. I just wanted to sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;I went home and I had to do some stuff before I slept. So to get energised I tried to watch some Russell Peters, but even he didn't help much. But, looking on the positive side, I got a feel of how it will be like when I start work. I mean this is almost exactly how it's gonna be like, and I can prepare myself better for it now. Good thing I got to see Anan at the bus stop and he provided some company cos I think I would have just dozed off while standing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Lastly...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;Certain things keep bothering me. Actually only ONE thing in particular. I don't think you can get away with any bad deed without being punished. Even in Silapathikaran it's written that uzhvinai uruthuvanthu uttiyeh thirum. For those who don't know what's Silapathikaram, it's one of the 5 great Tamil epics written in the fifth century. I remember learning this quote a long time back. Of course, for this blog entry I had to refresh my memory by asking my mum.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;But in that story, the author, Elangovadigal had written that the reason why Kovalan was executed wrongly, was due to his own past misdeeds which had caused him his life. Basically Karma. I believe in that fervently. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;I really cannot stand people saying that someone has reformed and that the person deserves another chance in life. If you have reformed, good for you. But, you WILL pay for what you did and what you did is NOT something that can be changed because you reformed. It is irreversible and you will be punished accordingly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-1498786747030356630?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/1498786747030356630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/1498786747030356630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/04/four-random-issues.html' title='Four random issues'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-2652770070365141659</id><published>2008-03-12T06:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T06:23:54.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Expectations</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;These days, I get irritated at every little thing. I mean I was never such a 'nasty' person, but it seems to be worse these days. I just speak my mind, without any tact whatsoever, without even considering if it would hurt the other party. I expect everyone to behave the way I WANT them to behave. Which is totally wrong of course.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;But sometimes, I really don't think I'm expecting much. I got my exam results today, and I told a few people about it. And some of my friends had no comments whatsoever. Nothing. Zero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I mean if you don't wish to say something positive, I would have been fine with a "aiyo, you could have done better for that subject". Or just anything. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I didn't feel that much irritated, but I felt disappointed. I mean aren't you supposed to be my friend? And as a friend you really don't have anything to say? How ignorant can these people be? I mean if this was some trivial issue, and people decided to keep their mouths shut, it would have been fine by me. But these are my final semester results.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I seriously think I need to go to some place far, far away. Away from these people..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-2652770070365141659?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/2652770070365141659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/2652770070365141659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/03/expectations.html' title='Expectations'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-4146309369296570552</id><published>2008-02-18T00:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T01:16:12.707-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Saturday, was a mad rush for me. I went to sit for my test in the morning having only 3 hours of sleep. I think my prayers paid off..thank god I managed to finish my test on time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;After the test, Vaani, Laura, Meetz and myself sat down to talk crap for a while and we began to realise that that will be the last time we would ever sit down to talk nonsense in school. I mean it's study break now. The following week will be exams, and that's it. It was rather emotional I must say..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;We managed to take some pictures. I only have one here though(Vaani, u better send me the rest)..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168240830473418258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R7lHpx4JthI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Sl_vc2UoEEk/s320/16022008089.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;After school, I had to rush back home and dump all my files and books to go to the zoo. Yes, the zoo..to celebrate Yujia's birthday. It was such a rush since the zoo closes at 6 and I had to reach the place earlier or it would defeat the purpose of me even buying a ticket to enter. I didn't even have time to wrap Yj's presents properly. However, I was really really happy to see these people after ages. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;When I reached the zoo, Yj told me to come to the elephant enclosure. And as usual, I got lost and ended up staring at the Lamas. I called her and told her to meet me there. A minute later she calls me up to say she's lost as well. Haha..it was hilarious. We were having an amazing race at the zoo, going round and round in circles. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Finally I managed to spot her..and she came over and gave me a hug. It was so good seeing that woman after so long. Seriously I missed her and the other two gundus like hell. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Alecia was as usual, scolding me for ignoring her and the others for the past one year. And I was really touched when she showed me this sms msg which I had sent her in 2003. That girl had been keeping it in her hp all these years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Diana..I hardly got to talk to her..cos she had to leave soon after I arrived. But hopefully I get to catch up with her soon. Anyway, here are some pictures. I'm certainly not an animal lover but I kinda liked these. Especially the wolf which I finally got to see, but didn't get to take a pic of it though.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168240465401198050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R7lHUh4JteI/AAAAAAAAACg/5UedGuBGYio/s320/16022008094.jpg" border="0" /&gt;                                                               &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He was posing for me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168240473991132658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R7lHVB4JtfI/AAAAAAAAACo/x5B4JlcnZZM/s320/16022008090.jpg" border="0" /&gt;                               &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;These penguins were really cute. They were queueing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;                                                         to get in..adorable..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;          &lt;/div&gt;                                                              &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168240478286099970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R7lHVR4JtgI/AAAAAAAAACw/2Mp4HiiWSHI/s320/16022008091.jpg" border="0" /&gt;                                                             Finally they got in!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168239846925907394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R7lGwh4JtcI/AAAAAAAAACQ/gsk9oO0ptVQ/s320/16022008096.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                              &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168239855515842002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R7lGxB4JtdI/AAAAAAAAACY/H-YiYNUNlJg/s320/16022008093.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;                                                                          &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Us four!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-4146309369296570552?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4146309369296570552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4146309369296570552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/02/saturday.html' title='Saturday'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R7lHpx4JthI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Sl_vc2UoEEk/s72-c/16022008089.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-904133473290125353</id><published>2008-02-12T09:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T09:49:57.767-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To my darling YJ!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Let's see (*starts counting fingers*)...6 years of friendship. Wow that's pretty long. If I were to break it down:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-2 years in JC (or should I say gallivanting at Orchard)&lt;br /&gt;-3rd year: Met up atleast once in 4 months&lt;br /&gt;-4th year: Met up once I think&lt;br /&gt;- 5th year: I went MIA&lt;br /&gt;-Now : Haha..need I say more..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I truly, deeply miss this woman. I recall the days at NY. How she and I would come up with every single possible plan to skip class. And yet end up going for class in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we came up with nicknames for every single teacher - Kawani(Mr Nandwani), Big-butt(the malay discipline teacher, albatross lady(our infamous Literature tutor who talked non stop about the wonders of the albatross bird)..Haha..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we would draw comic versions of the chronicles of onion. Fine, fine. I sucked at drawing. You and Diana did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;I will never ever forget one incident for life. How we ran out of the school gates to skip class, without being caught by big-butt. And we took a cab right outside the gate. Before the cab hardly went a distance of 3 metres..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YJ: OMG. Is that big butt(discipline teacher) at the bus stop? You know how he stands at the bus stop to catch late-comers right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Serious? Shit he just saw us. We're screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YJ: Ok let's get out and walk up the slope, into school again, to pretend we just came to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we walked up the slope we saw another discipline teacher. Mr Bong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Bong: You girls are late!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Ya sorry about that. Anyway there is no need for you to take down our names because Mr 'big butt' saw us from the bus stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Bong: He saw you'll at the bus stop???*shocked* That's surprising. I just talked to him seconds ago at the staff room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Haha..boy did we feel stupid. But it was so funny YJ. And now that we have all grown up, I don't think I'm ever going to do stupid things like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These 6 years of knowing you.. it was just wonderful. I miss all the outings we used to have or just simply talking to you. You've been a great friend in so many, gazillion ways. Can't wait for Saturday...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, Happy Birthday!!&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/4525348494232588468-904133473290125353?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/904133473290125353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/904133473290125353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/02/to-my-darling-yj.html' title='To my darling YJ!'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-784733888716277002</id><published>2008-02-12T08:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T09:21:45.379-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hatred</title><content type='html'>I can’t wait for your downfall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to think this way. This is not me. But this is what you have caused me to become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday, I find out something new about you. And I realize I never knew you at all. Every, single , thing that came out of your mouth was a lie. I found out today what October 7th actually means to you. I realize how you lied to me telling me it is a day nobody would know where you are and that you would just run away. Well, part of it is true I guess. Just that, you would run away with your girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t wait for you to experience immense pain. Since you don’t know what pain is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find myself fighting a losing battle. How I had been so stupid to jeopardise my education for a muthafarker like you. How I had been so stupid to jeopardise my friendship for a bastard like you. I could have walked away at Cantonment Complex that day. I wish I had. Atleast then, you would have experienced a bit of pain. But I didn’t. Once again, I had relieved you of pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m trying so hard to concentrate now. I’m trying so hard to grow out this phase and move on. I have one last chance to prove myself in life, now that I know the truth about you. And I find myself falling back each time I try to move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told you about everything I had gone through. Yet, you did the exact same thing that what guys did. Just that yours was worse. A lot more worse. Now, you’ve caused me to become this completely inhuman person who is void of all feelings. I don’t want to trust anybody now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all that you have done, I can’t wait for your end to come. I can’t wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-784733888716277002?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/784733888716277002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/784733888716277002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/02/hatred.html' title='Hatred'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-2838155613672532215</id><published>2008-02-11T07:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T08:08:07.270-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Money</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;After eons, one of my guy friends, or should I say acquaintances, calls me pretty late at night. As I answer the call wondering what exactly he would want to talk about at this time of the day, he says "Vasaantha, I need your help. Are there any ATM machines around your house?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;What the .....?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Firstly, I do have any ATM machines AROUND MY HOUSE. Sorry that I don't sleep over at POSB Bank.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;And for the last time, I am NOT going to lend money to any Tom, Dick and Harry around. Not even if YOU CLAIM some guy is holding you hostage and there is a ransom. NO.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Pardon me if I get philosophical now. If there is ONE THING life has taught me, it would be to not lend money to any person who claims he needs it urgently. Especially guys. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Yes, of course my opinion is biased. You cannot blame me. I'm just like any other human being. I am judgemental, opinionated and you may even say dogmatic. And more often than not, life's experiences serve as a catalyst for shaping our biased opinions. In plain English, we start being biased because of what we had gone through, and what we had been influenced by.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;And that is exactly what has happened to me now. From two-timing pricks, to certain 'stars', till some criminal who tactically swindles money from women, I have gone through more than enough when it comes to lending money to guys. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Till this point of time in my life, there was no such thing for me as 'I've learnt my lesson'. Even though I had met so many cheats, I refused to learn my lesson. I refused to see the underlying truth in it all. That some people just make use of you for money. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;But really, I wonder why?? Is it because I live in a condominium? Or my parents' professions? As far as I know my grandparents were not some rich landlords who had loads of wealth. And my parents had to work doubly hard just to reach the point where my family is at now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I just don't understand why these assholes think that I have a money printing machine in my house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Anyway, these are my life's experiences which have caused me to adopt such a stand today. Most certainly, I am generalising. I am not denying that. However, I am not willing to take any risks, anymore. I am not willing to trust anybody anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-2838155613672532215?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/2838155613672532215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/2838155613672532215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/02/money.html' title='Money'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-5146686244579579572</id><published>2008-02-08T07:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T07:56:54.456-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrations?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I realise as days go by, the font size for my blog entries keep getting bigger.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;So I'm sticking to the small size now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;It's CNY holidays but it certainly doesn't feel like it. The lane behind my house is lined up with semi-detached houses. Usually, celebrations would start days before CNY at those houses. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Every year, me and my mum would stand at the kitchen window and peep to see how grand the celebrations are. One house in particular would be so lavishly decorated, nobody would be able to get their eyes off it. And on the day of CNY you would see so many people gathered at that house compound eating, drinking and laughing away so loudly, we would be able to hear from our house.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;This year, it was extremely dead. Not just at the semi-Ds opposite my house but almost everywhere. I was thinking, maybe people are just too caught up with work and other things that they are not interested in grand celebrations anymore. My mum has a different point of view though. She thinks that many have converted to Christianity and are thus losing touch with their Chinese roots and culture and are embracing the Western culture more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;However, I felt that Christmas wasn't that grand either last year. This was not just my opinion, but that of many of my Christian friends. Have Singaporeans really lost touch with their culture, or just life on the whole? I feel like non of us really know what true enjoyment is anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;On a positive note, I had an extremely good time for the past two days with my family and my cousin sister, uncle and aunt. The little brat stayed over yesterday and we had a really good time. Especially at the pool where me, my bro and my cuz sis played our own version of water polo. I felt like I really enjoyed myself after ages and laughed my heart out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;And what happens when you enjoy too much? You have to pay the price. Thus, I'm going to stay up now and finish my Arbitration project...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-5146686244579579572?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/5146686244579579572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/5146686244579579572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/02/celebrations.html' title='Celebrations?'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-9045005884260158244</id><published>2008-02-02T07:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T07:47:42.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Epitome of insanity</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R6SPQleNzUI/AAAAAAAAACA/mklYu1TGyso/s1600-h/02022008087.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162408587972955458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R6SPQleNzUI/AAAAAAAAACA/mklYu1TGyso/s320/02022008087.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                    &lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ffff;"&gt;Idiots look like they're having some affair. They left me out k!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162407870713417010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R6SOm1eNzTI/AAAAAAAAAB4/n7tAVatOKuE/s320/02022008086.jpg" border="0" /&gt;                                                  &lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt; Err..well..it's Rashmi, what do you expect?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162406917230677282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R6SNvVeNzSI/AAAAAAAAABw/cocnoGm6Dig/s320/02022008080.jpg" border="0" /&gt;                            &lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;She looks really calm isn't it? She was actually having toe cramps &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;                                     and jumping around seconds before this was taken&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;Well, I must say it felt really good meeting up with the two gundus after ages. Even though I have a test AND a project submission on Monday, I'm really glad I met up with them(though I might not be saying the same once I get my grades). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;From Rash trying to create some sort of fashion statement at Vivocity Watsons with Sasi's green scarf, and highly embarrassing me..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162401028830514434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R6SIYleNzQI/AAAAAAAAABg/ZTGOAa7ptE0/s320/02022008084.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;To Sasi trying to tell me what costumes we should wear for the folk dance for Swarnam performance since we were supposed to dress up like 'korathis'..well this was the conversation..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;S: "You should watch that Rajnikanth movie la. Rajnikanth ah..they'll be wearing this thavaani like thing"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me: "Well..that's err...nice. But I don't think the guys(in our dance group) will ever agree to it"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;And there was a long pause where we stared at each other and burst out laughing after which,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;S: "Diiiii(in her high pitched voice), I meant the GIRLS wear the thaavani k..not the guys."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Well..how was i to know Sasi? You kept saying Rajnikanth, Rajnikanth..haha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162403416832331026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="240" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R6SKjleNzRI/AAAAAAAAABo/lWRKpyEp-gg/s320/02022008085.jpg" width="146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;Well..should I even talk about Marche, Rash? I think I better not embarrass you:-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;But we three went to Marche and got some pathetic dessert, while there were others queueing up for really long waiting for us to get up and leave..haha. Then we decided to go to the foodcourt to get some 'real' food. At the food court I was telling them how I have this sudden attraction for good looking middle aged men. Then we saw this Indian man queueing up and Rash was like..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;R: "Oh, that's my tutor"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me: "Is it?? Well is he single??(raises one eyebrow)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;R: "He's a divorcee la.."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me: "Oh..that's ok with me. So why did he get divorced?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;R: "Oh he told us he cheated on his wife"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;And I nearly spat the laksa out... oh well, no more &lt;strong&gt;divorced&lt;/strong&gt; middle aged men for me then..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;But really guys..I had loads of fun. And Rash, you have yet to finish that 'man touching your feet in India' story..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-9045005884260158244?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/9045005884260158244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/9045005884260158244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/02/epitome-of-insanity.html' title='Epitome of insanity'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R6SPQleNzUI/AAAAAAAAACA/mklYu1TGyso/s72-c/02022008087.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-7742794816428508209</id><published>2008-01-20T07:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T07:18:48.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The adorable brat I can't live without..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Well, this is one angel who always makes me smile. When I was tearing at the hospital recently, I don't think anyone even knew what I was going through, but this darling came and wiped my tears. I don't think she knew how much that meant to me at that point of time cos she was more keen on eating her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;KFC&lt;/span&gt; chicken after that. But really, what would I do without her..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R5NkcftSKnI/AAAAAAAAABY/2FKO0GE0HtQ/s1600-h/Me+n+nith+in+car.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157576438979897970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R5NkcftSKnI/AAAAAAAAABY/2FKO0GE0HtQ/s320/Me+n+nith+in+car.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                         &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;In the car, when she simply refused to sit still&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R5NkIvtSKmI/AAAAAAAAABQ/gllky7PFPY4/s1600-h/Nith+using+hp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157576099677481570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R5NkIvtSKmI/AAAAAAAAABQ/gllky7PFPY4/s320/Nith+using+hp.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                    &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;      City Blocks is the only game that can keep her still for a while&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-7742794816428508209?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/7742794816428508209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/7742794816428508209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2008/01/adorable-brat-i-cant-live-without.html' title='The adorable brat I can&apos;t live without..'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_sveV666rEuA/R5NkcftSKnI/AAAAAAAAABY/2FKO0GE0HtQ/s72-c/Me+n+nith+in+car.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-7524931667242967854</id><published>2007-12-28T07:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T07:26:15.691-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Regret</title><content type='html'>Something keeps bothering me. In fact,  I thought I was doing very well by ignoring it. But, I realise i have to face it..and facing it is the most painful process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day after day, I block thoughts and the slightest memories trigger me to start thinking about something else. After a while, you realise by shunning it away, you are thinking more and more about it..&lt;br /&gt;One day, you realise that if you don't face reality now, you might just never get to in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, it wasn't so much about accepting things. Surprisingly enough, I wasn't in denial for too long. But, it is the recurring thoughts which bother me. I thought it would be good enough that I accepted the truth. But that's not the hardest part. Acceptance is only the start. It is the constant reminders of what I did, and what he did, and what she did which kill me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I yearn for revenge. And then I suppress that thought. But it just grows bigger each day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate myself for being reticent. That's the biggest problem with me.  People don't know how much things bother me because I never show it. My pride would never allow me to show it. The few people who do know about things which happen in my life, they never know how much it affects me..because I wouldn't allow them to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I ever forget what he did and forgive her for what she did? I can't seem to. Forgiving is just not even one of my options now. And I hate the fact that I have grown so cold. This is what this whole thing has done to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't trust anybody as well. Everything around me seems dull, everyone around me seem utterly irritating. But this was something I brought upon myself. I knew there was a pit and I fell into it willingly, with my eyes closed. I can't help but to chide myself for being so stupid. I should have known better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so lost. I don't know in which direction to head or what to do. I regret everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-7524931667242967854?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/feeds/7524931667242967854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4525348494232588468&amp;postID=7524931667242967854' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/7524931667242967854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/7524931667242967854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2007/12/regret.html' title='Regret'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-2295512572095390885</id><published>2007-11-28T17:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T17:27:21.756-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do I really have to go?</title><content type='html'>That's the question I'm asking myself right now. You see, I'm so used to working here that now, I'm actually thinking I might miss this place. And besides, there are no exams or tests here..I'm sure all of us know how good that feels right? But, one thing is that worklife can be really mundane. You come to office, sit down and do the same kind of work everyday. I'm ok with doing the same kind of work but it's the sitting down for 8 hours part that I'm not looking foward to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people, as in the staff are all very nice. The lawyers, besides the one or two unfriendly ones(they happen to be females) are really down to earth and they are very friendly. I'm sure there are the usual office politics and all but it seems to be very minimal at this place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've even grown attached to certain people in this firm (Vaani, I'm not referring to 'Mr winter-wear' ok) and I feel sad leaving these people. Oh well, whatever it is, I HAVE to complete my final semester to graduate. Perhaps after that I might consider coming back here to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides, 'Mr winter-wear' will still be here right, Vaani? :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-2295512572095390885?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/feeds/2295512572095390885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4525348494232588468&amp;postID=2295512572095390885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/2295512572095390885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/2295512572095390885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2007/11/do-i-really-have-to-go.html' title='Do I really have to go?'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-1395348925822508052</id><published>2007-11-27T16:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T17:23:40.187-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Clueless</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was not such a bad day..in the beginning atleast, besides the fact that I embarrassed myself..as usual. I went for a PPO trial and had to take down notes of evidence. The trial started at 2 and ended around 6. I was so, very sleepy since morning itself and going for a 4-hour trial didn't help much. However, it was really interesting. Only at a certain point, I decided to give my hand a break from all the writing. After which, I guess I decided to give my eyes a break as well unknowingly.&lt;br /&gt;I was dozing off, but i wasn't sleeping yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then, the wife(who is also the one applying for Personal Protection Order) had to turn around and ask me something. You know when you are about to doze off, it will take some time to snap out of that state to fully comprehend what people are saying? Yes, so I didn't respond obviously. Then in my head I kept telling myself "Wake up Vasaantha, don't embarrass yourself further, wake up you idiot!". N after snapping out of that half-asleep state, I asker her "Pardon, what?" And she just replied saying "He(her husband) is lying". Yeh, like I didn't know that?? I really wanted to thank her for disrupting my 'sleep'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after work I went for driving. You know, ever since I started learning driving, I have been so enthusiastic about it. I mean I really, really like it. And I can't wait to get my license. And it was my 3rd lesson and this is what happened:&lt;br /&gt;Instructor: "Ok, now you turn out."&lt;br /&gt;Me : "What?? Into the main road?"&lt;br /&gt;Instructor: "Ya la. Isn't that what I told you? Turn out"&lt;br /&gt;Me : (Muruga..that's it..)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, the thing is I really liked driving on the main road. Only thing was that at one point of time I panicked and released the clutch when I was on first gear(he kept asking me to change from one gear to another) and the engine stalled and the car stopped in the middle of nowhere. My instructor just burst out laughing. And yes, I embarrassed myself once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unexpected things happened later on, at night. Things went out of control. I can be very patient, but don't take advantage of it. If you push me over the edge, I  will  burst. And that's what happened yesterday. I said things I shouldn't have said, I did things I wouldn't normally do. Until now, I'm clueless as to why I hurled vulgarities to that extent. It was totally out of control. It was like..I wasn't myself. but I don't regret it because I've been too patient..too tolerant. Only thing I regret is putting my Aunty through so much pain. I really regret that..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-1395348925822508052?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/feeds/1395348925822508052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4525348494232588468&amp;postID=1395348925822508052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/1395348925822508052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/1395348925822508052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2007/11/clueless.html' title='Clueless'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-7989695564777878495</id><published>2007-11-22T17:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T17:54:14.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving on</title><content type='html'>You know, so far I've only been writing entries on general issues. But I can't help but to write about something that has been bothering me recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, I've always put my friends on par with my family. To the extent I get reprimanded by parents or relatives at times. I used to have quite a number of friends last time, but over the years I realised that it was pointless. That was one of the reasons as to why I deleted Friendster. I would accept requests on Friendster without having a single clue about who the person is. Just like many others, I thought having many friends would make me well known, famous and most importantly, it meant that I was wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I came to realise that having a few good friends was all I needed. I didn't find any happiness in trying to become famous or trying to make it seem like I was wanted. But, I did find happiness in having the few close friends who were ALWAYS there for me and who knew me inside out, and valued me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I became very selective or you could even say judgmental. I would choose who I want to mix with and who I want to talk to. Well, I wouldn't say 'would' because I am still doing that. I don't share my personal things with anyone except my close friends. My social circle shrunk immensely but I couldn't give two hoots about that because..I was happy. When my birthday came, I only looked foward to meeting up with my friends, so much so to the extent that every year my mother would tell me "You had better not spend the entire day with your beloved friends. You better come back home early."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It upsets me to think that even though I gave so much importance, it wasn't always the case on the other side. When a guy comes into the picture everything else changes. Well, maybe I might change too..I wouldn't know because everytime a guy is in my life, he would turn out to be the asshole of the century. I was never 'SO-in-love', and thus I always needed my friends. But, when a girl IS so-in-love, she puts the guy before her friends. Unlike most guys who still hang out with their friends, and try to balance the time between their friends and girlfriends, girls don't do that. When she finds her man, she gives everything else up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really upsets me to think that a guy can do so much to a girl, and have such a high level of significance in her life..to the extent that the girl totally indulges in ignorance when it comes to her girlfriends. When I told my mother about it, my mum simply laughed and said "Well, you can't be holding on to your friends forever isn't it? When they get a guy, they start living their own lives and you have to move away as well."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess my mum does have a point. And also, another reason as to why I'm so upset could be because I don't trust men. I don't. And because I don't, I guess I'm thinking 'why is she giving so much importance to him? Weren't all her girlfriends there for her all her life? She lets a GUY take control of her life like that?' My thoughts are biased of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, it is..one thing's for sure - I have to move on. I have live my own life now. And if I have to let go of a friend, then I would just have to do that..without giving two hoots about her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-7989695564777878495?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/feeds/7989695564777878495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4525348494232588468&amp;postID=7989695564777878495' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/7989695564777878495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/7989695564777878495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2007/11/moving-on.html' title='Moving on'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-4806720988470665665</id><published>2007-11-21T17:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T17:44:56.335-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories</title><content type='html'>Just the other day, me and Vaani(barney) were chatting and we realised we shared similar interests in poetry. Well, not many people know how much I love poetry or appreciate it for that matter. So, I decided to post one of my favourite poems here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is by 19th century poet, Elizabeth Barrett Browning. She is one of the greatest female English poets and this one comes from her collection of love Sonnets. Her poems emphasise greatly on petrarchan love, which is of course considered entremely melodramatic in this century. Yet, I still love her works as there is something really potent and magical about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I first read this peom about 4 years back..and it brings back bitter sweet memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, if you're one who doesn't fancy poetry, you should still read this. Read every line carefully, and comprehend the meaning behind each line, reminiscing the last time you felt love..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love thee to the depth and breadth and height &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love thee to the level of every day's &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love with a passion put to use &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love thee with a love I seemed to lose &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I shall but love thee better after death..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-4806720988470665665?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/feeds/4806720988470665665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4525348494232588468&amp;postID=4806720988470665665' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4806720988470665665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4806720988470665665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2007/11/memories.html' title='Memories'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-4532687340679232804</id><published>2007-11-19T20:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T20:55:25.128-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On the brink</title><content type='html'>I sat down and thought about it. I thought, perhaps my expectations are high. So I made a decision, to lower my expectations and stick with the basics. If you're lost at this point in time, do not fret. I am talking about the obvious - dating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I realised that EVEN when I decide to look for the basics, it is not there. Maybe I'm giving off some vibes that I am some rich kid.&lt;br /&gt;- "Hey, so you're going to pay for me right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I certainly do not expect a man to pay for me. A guy friend of mine once told me "Hey, all you women talk about gender equality right? Why is it that you expect the men to always pay for you'll?" Ok, fine. I concur with my friend on that because gone are the days where only men used to work and women were just docile, subservient beings who just took care of households. Women work these days and toil just as hard to earn that extra penny. So a woman CAN pay for herself. I personally don't need a guy to pay for me. But, if I can pay for myself, so can you. My basic expectation was - you pay for yourself, and I will pay for myself. So, even though I lowered my expectation, it was of no use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, if me being a rich kid wasn't enough, I'm beginning to think maybe I'm also suggesting that I'm really into physical intimacy.&lt;br /&gt;- "Hey, so if it happens it happens, you know what I mean. I mean when we are hungry we eat isn't it. So same thing, if we feel it, we can do it what. Nothing wrong with that"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's very true. When we're hungry we eat. When we feel horny(to put it in a crude way), we engage in physical intimacy. So, aren't we any different from animals? Don't we possess sixth sense? Doesn't it enable us to make choices, make decisions, and THINK? When we are hungry we eat - but unlike animals where they just go solely by their instincts, we can choose to do something else. We can choose. So when my 'date' doesn't even realise something as basic as this, what's the point of me lowering my expectations?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean I decided to move out of my shell due to my friends constantly pestering me, telling me that I need to meet new guys and I need someone new in my life. But hey, I tried. And these guys are not 18-yr-olds. They are all 22 and above. So, what can I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall go back to having my initial level of high expectations and embrace singlehood for the rest of my life as a result of that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-4532687340679232804?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/feeds/4532687340679232804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4525348494232588468&amp;postID=4532687340679232804' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4532687340679232804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/4532687340679232804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2007/11/on-brink.html' title='On the brink'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4525348494232588468.post-1764703818979819355</id><published>2007-11-19T19:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T20:04:01.771-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Well Well</title><content type='html'>Here I am, once again, trying to blog. My previous attempts failed miserably as I will enthusiastically write in some entry on my Friendster blog, and thereafter delete it off after asking myself "do I really want everybody to know whats going on in my life? Do I really need to show my underwear to the public?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, there are two reasons why I am blogging now. I've deleted friendster. Secondly, working at a law firm as an intern isn't really one of the most exciting things in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for my blog address, I had a few considerations. At first I wanted it to be something cool like Nemesis - the goddess of vengeance according to ancient Egyptian religion. Then it prompted me that that username has already been taken. It also gave suggestions such "vas-nemesis" and "vas-vasaantha", all of which i obviously didn't fancy. Then i thought ok nevermind, let's try something abstract, like Singapore shortfilms nowadays. So i thought let's try "Death" or like "coffin" or "chocolate" and all of those were rejected as well. So in my frustration, I typed hoolahey. N there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So &lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;once&lt;/span&gt; again, I'm going to attempt to write bits and pieces of my opinions. I'll see how long this lasts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4525348494232588468-1764703818979819355?l=hoolahey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/feeds/1764703818979819355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4525348494232588468&amp;postID=1764703818979819355' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/1764703818979819355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4525348494232588468/posts/default/1764703818979819355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hoolahey.blogspot.com/2007/11/well-well.html' title='Well Well'/><author><name>Vas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04296831130008849385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
