<?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-3628338339417700938</id><updated>2011-07-30T17:23:53.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>shaist in two-oh</title><subtitle type='html'>oh since multiply is a junk.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>shaistman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12523056744740278234</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>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628338339417700938.post-139925799039437346</id><published>2007-08-12T01:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T04:04:42.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>leaving it all behind</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;To free oneself to those that hold u back is to live consequently with your-self and kiss those Asses goodbye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How would you accept yourself if no one accepts you as who you are. How would you be able to shut down your ears from those who kept on pulling you if it seemed like it’s a part of the air you’re breathing? How would you know if what they say wouldn’t do you anything?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s a dispute of finding your true self but how could you if the world just doesn’t give you a single hint of who you are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:16;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Step out of the barrier. Venture off. And believe in what you truly feel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:16;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:16;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There’s a whole new crowd. I study in a design and art school in college. And I must say that I could be who I want to be now. I wear what I like without anyone being so bothered because you’re “naka-porma”. I see different people. Fashion design students and their so-way-attires, Artsy-fartsy kids and their uniqueness and people who dared to be different. Everyone had his or her own characters.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ve come to apprehension that what I am wasn’t so diverse after all. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:16;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:16;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Seeing them now, people I’ve spent my growing up days. I’ve come to evaluate how different they are from the world out there. Generic people I must say. Bunch of 18 years old who thinks San Mig light would make them drunk. People who don’t know much but think they do. They still think that jumpers, knee-length leggings, shirt over shirts, boleros are so “uso”. She actually thought she was so cool. They are again 18-year-olds who have an experience as much of twelve years old.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:16;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:16;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I can see the used-to-be-jocks are so totoy, popular girls? You wouldn’t even know they were popular if you weren’t from our school. Most of them even look like maids; I forgot how did they become popular. The perky girls are still perky but are so baduy. The heartthrobs don’t even look first-class. The party was good, there’s a dj, great food, alcohol and everything but the crowd doesn’t know how to party. All they did was stand there and cough at their own smokes. Most of them don’t even intermingle; they just stare at people’s faces. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:16;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:16;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Enough of the cynicism. Must admit that I was also glad to see my old associates.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Others, they were the ones who told me who I am but I’m not. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:16;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;To end this, I finally saw how nothing they are and poles apart their perspectives are from the average teenage world. Losers compare to other batches that came ahead of. It was nice to leave them all behind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:16;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sorry if you’re affronted. I didn’t ask you to read this. Nevertheless, you baby should accept the harsh reality right? It’s not about pitching myself. Oh well only a part of it. But it’s all factual you’ll realize that.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3628338339417700938-139925799039437346?l=alcoholove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/feeds/139925799039437346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628338339417700938&amp;postID=139925799039437346' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/139925799039437346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/139925799039437346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/2007/08/leaving-it-all-behind.html' title='leaving it all behind'/><author><name>shaistman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12523056744740278234</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-3628338339417700938.post-6135362710510241555</id><published>2007-07-28T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T21:30:20.883-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ME. Let's Dig Deeper.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;hi Im Shandy.  I am not what you expect me to be. I am not like everybody else. I tend to be different.  I dont TRY to be different. Im just different...which is hard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;         I have a dad, who rarely lives with us. I grew up with my mom, my sister and our maid. That's fine by me. My mom made a perfect job for being a dad and a mom to me and my sister. We always shop together, go to salons and eat out. My mom favored me back then coz i was the young one, i was always with her wherever she goes. Whenever my dad's around, it's a military standard procedure for his daughters. We werent allowed to play outside (such a tragic news for kids who have the whole neighborhood as playmates), Eating, waking up hours, taking a bath, watching tv and all else have rules too. I mean stricly obtained. He on the other side, favored my sister. So much. Which caused our sister rivalry that rooted since childhood. My sister had an advantage. She wasnt hurted that much and infact i think she never was.  My dad would give her everything and i would just have those old toys. Whenever he implies a new rule, i was the one who suffered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;        I was made to believe that whenever i recieve a punishment, it is because it's my fault. And I used to think that I was just a bad little kid that is why I went through those. It's normal though to other children to be discipline. But only now that I realized that what he did to me before was way beyond.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;        One day, like all dumb kids, I tried to be picasso and i tried to draw a man (stick man) on a wall using my crayola. My dad went gaga and disciplined me. He cursed me, shouts and were so mad that his face turned scarlet. He used his belt on me. And pointed at me his balisong and i really thought he was gonna kill me but he didnt. He locked a 3yrs old me in a room for a day with nothing to eat and noone's allowed to talk to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;    My sister's typing at our laptop and i accidentally hit her while i was running around, so the sreen flapped at her nose. The bitch cried. She wasnt hurt that much, I can tell cause it didnt hit on her that hard. But I still said Sorry. She went making sumbong to my dad. My dad made me go to the master bedroom with him and hit me real hard with his belt. No talking involved. Just kept on hitting me until my knees bled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;    I went through much sessions of my belt-hitting-dad. One was when I forgot to turn off the fan. Those were just other examples. There was too many.  Whenever I try to tell my mom about it, he'd deny it. He said that I was a liar and there goes another session of punishment again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;        I was verbally and physically abused. I dont know why he hate me that much. I can feel his anger and I was just made to believe that everything was my fault. My mom just acted like nothing's happening and that everything is normal. But I ran to her whenever I cry, she was my only ally. And I can tell that she was the only one who have loved me. It's just that, she too, was afraid of my dad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;        This goes until I became a teenager. He went home when I was 16, and one night I arrived home for about 10 in the eve. He was so mad that he hit me with his ol' belt again but that time, the buckle's the one hitting on me and he was holding in his hand the other end. I tell you, It was real pain. I was wishing for it to stop, just stop but it went through like for an hour. I wasnt allowed to cry loud whenever im punished cause itll only add up and lengthen the time for punishing me-forgot to tell you. But that time, I cried so loud. And it hurts so much that i can feel my back bleeding. My mom went upstairs and tried to stop my dad. He pushed my mom out the door and slammed it. He locked the door and continued hitting me.  After that, when he got tired he forced me to take a bath, fix myself and im not suppose to act like something just happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;    The next day at school, I was called by the discipline officer. I was caught smoking along with my other friends. I had a chance to have one-on-one talk with my adviser, and I dont know how it came but I told her about what just happened last night. She saw my bruises at my back and in my legs. She brought me to the principal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;    It was explained to me. That even though I commited a mistake and that there was something to blame. My parents does not have a right to hurt me that way. Some disciplines their child but not to that extent. It was clear that I am a child that is a victim of verbal and physical abuse. What happened to me does not look or sound as harsh as the others you see in TV but she said, our principal, that what my father did was already an abuse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be con't..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3628338339417700938-6135362710510241555?l=alcoholove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/feeds/6135362710510241555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628338339417700938&amp;postID=6135362710510241555' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/6135362710510241555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/6135362710510241555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/2007/07/me-lets-dig-deeper.html' title='ME. Let&apos;s Dig Deeper.'/><author><name>shaistman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12523056744740278234</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-3628338339417700938.post-5834653056171097990</id><published>2007-07-23T07:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T06:19:01.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fuck you fuck you!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>"you are a cheerleader. you're probably the most popular girl here at school and you still think you might not be good enough for me?" -chase to brooke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever had a situation wherein you just never dared to move.&lt;br /&gt;When everything was already right under your nose and you just let it slip away&lt;br /&gt;because you thought you were never good enough.&lt;br /&gt;You gave him away and just let them be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and you never had chance to know if what you felt was real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; "our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; it is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; your playing small does not serve the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; there is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; we were all meant to shine as children do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; its not just in some of us, it's in everyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; and as we let our own light shine, we unconciously give other people permission to do the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; as we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."&lt;br /&gt;- rick gonzales,  Coach Carter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3628338339417700938-5834653056171097990?l=alcoholove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/feeds/5834653056171097990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628338339417700938&amp;postID=5834653056171097990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/5834653056171097990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/5834653056171097990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/2007/07/fuck-you-fuck-you.html' title='fuck you fuck you!!!!!!'/><author><name>shaistman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12523056744740278234</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-3628338339417700938.post-472844226442682147</id><published>2007-07-22T03:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-22T04:14:23.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cinderella bitch</title><content type='html'>hi! im supposed to write this blog last night but my malnourished body couldnt take it anymore and my bed ate me. So Saturday, July 21 2007. I got up in the morning thinking that day would be just the same old same old. My class ends by 4:00pm. There was heavy traffic on my way home so at around 5:30pm I was home. I thought of catching up with my dear old neighbor friend Katherine. So, the both of us planned of drinking out that night. It was just a plain ol catchin up we do whenever we do our own thing in our diffrent world for a long time. We went at the usual hang-out place we always drink at and talked. Yadah-yadah-blah-blah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point is, fuck that night it was a sausage fest. I mean fuck that they were everywhere. (now, this what happens if you havent gone out for so long you're craving for it like a psycho-something).&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I met someone and it's a secret... cant tell you who he is. hah! Too bad i have to be home by midnyt cos my friend kaye have to but then thats no biggie.. I went home with all butterflies and those thingies girls feel whenever they get kilig. Now fuck that. haha!!.. Anyway, I feel so ugly with my short hair fuckit!!!..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way before I end this bloggoh, Ihate lesbians and you know that. Dont barge into any of my problems bitch and dont tell me ur only trying to help cos u made it worse. Fuck You&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3628338339417700938-472844226442682147?l=alcoholove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/feeds/472844226442682147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628338339417700938&amp;postID=472844226442682147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/472844226442682147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/472844226442682147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/2007/07/cinderella-bitch.html' title='cinderella bitch'/><author><name>shaistman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12523056744740278234</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-3628338339417700938.post-8575396257636973512</id><published>2007-07-20T19:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T06:09:42.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;"Truth is still absolute. Believe that. Even when that truth is hard and cold, and more painful than you've ever imagined. And even when truth is more cruel than any lie."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;...i hate my saturday class!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3628338339417700938-8575396257636973512?l=alcoholove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/feeds/8575396257636973512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628338339417700938&amp;postID=8575396257636973512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/8575396257636973512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/8575396257636973512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/2007/07/saturday.html' title='Saturday'/><author><name>shaistman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12523056744740278234</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-3628338339417700938.post-6621651546730342172</id><published>2007-07-20T07:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T04:31:54.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'>introduction to SHAIST</title><content type='html'>This appears to be so plain right now. For the reasons that i just need to go back to writing so as not to suppress my thought and amardy feelings, i kind of like so over the html thing with all those icons and blinkies and in fact everyone's using it with all those free copy-paste code sites all over and i thought having a plain theme would make my blog different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So!.. hi!.. Im Shandy. Im quite different now from what I used to be, for all those who knew me. I cant say i grew mature but myself, she grew deeper. I dont have an oh-so-pleasant life back in high school. Or I must say, I kind of dont like who Ive been. She's selfish and shallow and tried too hard and maybe if I wasnt myself? I would hate that person too. I have potentials for ADD (Attention Deficiency Disorder) hah! yeh, I so crave for attention but im not worth the attention so I became a "trying hard not virgin frustrated artist".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the person who I am now same as I miss the part of my old self. It is so safe, you know, not letting people in. It's like boys lie to fool you and girls lie to be a bitch. And i dont seem to trust anyone anymore even GAYS and LESBIANs alike. Everyone! They all lie!. Maybe that explains why im so into that cheesy TV series One Tree Hill. Cause there's a point there where Peyton said the exact same thing. And knowing that what i think and what I see is Im not the only one who thinks of it that way,  kind of makes me feel better. Even if thats just a tv character, but still. I enjoy myself. I can be alone and still be happy. I dont feel lonely, I mean I can go to the movies by myself and still enjoy it? I actually love shopping alone too. I know better now and as Ive noticed, Its n0w becoming a habit. Its like whenever someone tries to let himself in, i shut my door. I taught myself that and now im used to it and i cant stop it anymore. I shut people who loves me out of my life. Theres too much explanations and i remember someone asked me, "what are those reasons?". I cant even tell her. I mean I dont  even know WHY anymore. Is it normal that im not attracted to anyone anymore? Fuck that. Ive become so numb that I cannot love anyone back anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I think It's better than to be oh-im-so-depressed-vulnerable-me..right?  this is better.=)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3628338339417700938-6621651546730342172?l=alcoholove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/feeds/6621651546730342172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628338339417700938&amp;postID=6621651546730342172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/6621651546730342172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628338339417700938/posts/default/6621651546730342172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alcoholove.blogspot.com/2007/07/introduction-to-shaist.html' title='introduction to SHAIST'/><author><name>shaistman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12523056744740278234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
