<?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-24601015</id><updated>2012-02-16T00:54:19.348-08:00</updated><category term='summer'/><category term='I like you.'/><category term='habit'/><category term='routine'/><title type='text'>C♂nfessi♀ns Of A H♂peless R♀mantic</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>133</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-6592738820928676639</id><published>2010-04-10T07:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T08:01:38.468-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Excuses mean nothing; but there's no harm in trying.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everything seems to be ok. Or is it? If you take the notion of being "out of love" out of the equation, it may seem that life is perfect. Do I really need it? In the first place, it only seems like an illusion. Hindsight has told me that unrequited love will keep me alive. Relationships can have this negative connotation of possession. What this means is that there is this unconscious desire within us to fulfill our own selfish desires at the expense of compromising the harmony of that connection. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why is there an innate desire for someone to change someone else? You can't control how someone lives his/her life, that would be a violation of their freedom. I will never compromise that freedom. Without it, my life loses its most essential meaning; authenticity. There's no use in changing to cater to someone else's whims. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/24601015-6592738820928676639?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6592738820928676639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6592738820928676639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#6592738820928676639' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-227091538082979379</id><published>2010-01-01T07:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T07:02:50.354-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here are some suggestions (because I don’t intend to make promises I can’t keep)&lt;br /&gt;This New Year is going to be all about CHANGE! &lt;br /&gt;Isn’t that a good way to start the year? &lt;br /&gt;Due to some sudden revelations and exceptional circumstances, I have been directed by certain individuals to reevaluate my priorities and especially my disposition in life. What they are asking of me seems almost unreasonable but if I think about it may actually be “for my own good.” But who has the right to even question my very essence? &lt;br /&gt;This is who I am. If I change, what will become of me? I suppose it can be argued that sooner or later I will have to leave my comfort zone/prison and conform to accepted social norms and be a robot. The questions/reprimands/demands shot right through my heart. I was caught completely off guard. How did you expect me to react? I know she’s been telling me the same things over and over again but I did not listen in the first place (You didn’t have to defend my behavior you know, Just because I told you I’m a selfish brat doesn’t mean that I have the right to be). I was too caught up in those special moments and did not even bother to think about the subtleties and unspoken rules of handling relationships. I am not an expert on interpersonal matters. &lt;br /&gt;I am just a self-absorbed boy. But now, I’m being told that I’m an adult? How do you define an adult? I certainly don’t know what that means exactly. Even my own parents don’t treat me like one and certainly don’t want me to be one just yet. That’s what being spoiled all my life does to me. &lt;br /&gt;I guess I must find a middle ground; somewhere I can be myself without breaking any stupid rules. I will try my best to behave in the event of another compromising situation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-227091538082979379?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/227091538082979379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/227091538082979379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#227091538082979379' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7259804123131927498</id><published>2009-11-14T05:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T05:35:39.764-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Walang tawiran nakamamatay&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kahit na wala na akong sarili kong sasakyan, namamasyal pa rin ako sa kung saan-saan. Usually nasa mall lang; naghahanap ng mabibili. Ang sarap ng feeling na kaya mong bilhin lahat nang makita mo! Very relaxing rin pala maglakad sa makati avenue. Puro mga foreigner na puti. Ano bang ginagawa nila sa makati??? Naghahanap ng aliw? Wala naman akong nakitang aliw eh. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saan ba talaga yung Glorietta 5??? Totoo ba talaga yung lugar na yun? Yung tipong papasok ka pa lang may kumakanta nang mga anghel; bawat tapak mo may mga servants na magkakalat ng rose petals sa nilalakaran mo; at kung tinatamad ka maglakad sasakay ka sa tronong katulad kay Papa Xerxes sa pelikulang 300! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nakakainis! nabitin ako sa bus sa EDSA... Hindi ko natapos panoorin yung Rambo. Hindi ko ma-gets yung story. Bakit ba gusto patayin ng mga Russian at Vietcong siya? Dahil ba naiinggit sila sa katawan niya? Ang kinky pa ng torture scene nila: Sinasawsaw si Rambo sa putik habang nilalatigo yung pututoy niya! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Video games,  bakit nakakasawa ka na??? Ibebenta ko na yung Nintendo DSi ko tapos gamitin ko yung pera para pambili ng Magic: The Gathering na cards. Balik ulit ako sa paglaro ng cards para maiba naman. Balak ko pang gawing business to! Pero kelangan may market research muna. Exciting!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;May Ateneo Jacket na ako! Kasama sa tuition to'! Bakit short course (1 term) lang kinuha ko sa Ateneo may nakuha akong jacket pero halos limang taon ako sa DLSU wala akong jacket??? May  utang sa akin ang DLSU ng isang dosenang jacket! Dapat glow-in-the-dark! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7259804123131927498?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7259804123131927498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7259804123131927498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7259804123131927498' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-6752313854399762147</id><published>2009-11-01T06:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T06:26:49.889-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Glass Cage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;I want to tell you everything but I can’t seem to find the right words to say to you. It’s just not the way I cope with challenges like this; overcoming whatever this phase in my life is. That’s why I’m hiding in this self-imposed prison. It’s the only way I know how can get through this. Whenever I’m with you, all I ever wanted to do was to share my love and happiness with you. But I can’t do that anymore. Even I’m not sure who I am anymore. I once thought that I could stay happy forever but that was just an illusion. It seems everything I do is fake. I’ve lost my authenticity. I can’t be myself anymore. I’m trying to find a way to accepting this change but I’m so used to my old ways. I’m regressing.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-6752313854399762147?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6752313854399762147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6752313854399762147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#6752313854399762147' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7698622314263765777</id><published>2009-10-23T04:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T04:31:46.838-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Death by suppression&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course I can't tell you how I really feel. Almost everyone is already asking me that. They do not have the privilege of knowing such revealing matters about my psychological condition. But the moment I tell you how I really feel... chaos will ensue. I'm already a changed individual in light of a recent unfortunate event. Gone were the days of total freedom of expression. Even when I'm on my own I feel guilt the second I wear my heart on my sleeve. Fear consumes me. The pain of suppression is not the kind of emotional masochism I want.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7698622314263765777?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7698622314263765777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7698622314263765777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7698622314263765777' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1951325442549603310</id><published>2009-10-19T06:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T07:30:43.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Honesty has been compromised in the name of selfishness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happiness is overshadowed by a feeling of guilt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Randomness is still subsumed by fear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Peace of mind still appears to be an illusion. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Accountability and Responsibility is being denied to avoid hardship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Selflessness cannot be achieved because I am naturally selfish.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perserverance disappears in the face of escapist tendencies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Should I change my personal values?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then what should I stand for?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;fearless?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;numbness?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;emotional detachment?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;emotional confusion?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;where do I go for my emotional needs???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On my own? I'll only wallow in my own misery or constantly live in denial.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*****??? She has her own problems already. No need to burden her further.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;******? I am afraid of developing a deeper relationship with her&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;***? My hidden desire for her gets in the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;****? Busy pa rin. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*******? can't bear myself to discuss these things with him&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;********? tomorrow sana libre siya&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*******? Pwede... but ok lang kaya sa kanya?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Parents??? Too Busy/Too cold&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Brother? emotionally an empty shell &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sisters? physically absent&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have invested so much in this relationship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why am I falling?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MAYBE if this accident didn't happen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Emotional support: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I understand your situation but for now I cannot provide you with what you need&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;because I too need the same from you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/24601015-1951325442549603310?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1951325442549603310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1951325442549603310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1951325442549603310' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-6814319677299592546</id><published>2009-10-02T00:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T00:54:39.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Living deeply&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;"&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px; "&gt;When these changes happen, we realize we are not running the show here. Something larger is orchestrating the timing, sequence and content of our lives. We begin to go through a change of identity, like a caterpillar getting enveloped by a cocoon. Previous facts of our life are highly suspect and likely to be thrown out entirely. We're finding there's more to life than meets the eye. We start adding an unforeseen dimension to our experience. We begin to live deeply." &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;- Tom Haskins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;color:black"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/24601015-6814319677299592546?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6814319677299592546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6814319677299592546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#6814319677299592546' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3997094534377022522</id><published>2009-09-26T12:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T13:18:40.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Sr53Cd4Zn-I/AAAAAAAAADM/TtP6fkicdGA/s1600-h/karo-0057.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Sr53Cd4Zn-I/AAAAAAAAADM/TtP6fkicdGA/s200/karo-0057.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385873088646324194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Displacement&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why am I always put into these random and unfamiliar situations that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have no expertise or experience on? For example, being stranded &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;in a room for a day has left me sleepless and longing for her. Oh, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;how I miss the comfort of being myself at home.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3997094534377022522?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3997094534377022522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3997094534377022522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3997094534377022522' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Sr53Cd4Zn-I/AAAAAAAAADM/TtP6fkicdGA/s72-c/karo-0057.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3036556595350547016</id><published>2009-09-20T01:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T01:38:29.097-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SrXlRwPxo_I/AAAAAAAAAC8/m18ZcZ-UHik/s1600-h/karo-0053.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SrXlRwPxo_I/AAAAAAAAAC8/m18ZcZ-UHik/s200/karo-0053.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383461022762902514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here I am now.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was a time that my life was all about "Ignorance is bliss." Nowadays, there's just too much to think about. Up until college it was 99% Procrastination and 1% Work. Now it's 25% Procrastination and 75% Work. Was it a conscious decision on my part to thrust myself into this situation or is it just part of growing up? I don't really think about the past that much so that part won't be clarified anytime soon. It's impossible to know if I really was happier compared to now since I live too much in the present. Dwelling on the past or hoping for the future doesn't have any significance on how I am now. An irrational being such as myself can't even begin to comprehend the complexities of determining the consequences of my past actions or the future implications of my current decisions. Thinking too much of these things complicates things further than they should. I just let my emotions lead the way.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3036556595350547016?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3036556595350547016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3036556595350547016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3036556595350547016' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SrXlRwPxo_I/AAAAAAAAAC8/m18ZcZ-UHik/s72-c/karo-0053.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1541490049193295031</id><published>2009-09-10T07:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T07:23:38.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Unsolicited advice &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Do not get too involved with her. You're too young." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Why shouldn't I? I've been waiting for this to happen since time immemorial. You have no right to tell me what to do in matters of Love, you hypocrite. Just because you're older than me doesn't mean you're always right. There may be some insight to what you are saying but I realize that it's all just bullshit. Ever since I became enlightened about your true nature, everything you say seems to have less and less weight on my actions. There's just no point in arguing with you since you never really listen. It's really true when you say that you're deaf in one ear. You only choose to hear what you want to hear. I might as well not bother to tell you what you want to hear because that will only stroke your stupid ego.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1541490049193295031?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1541490049193295031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1541490049193295031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1541490049193295031' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3046658980178176032</id><published>2009-07-20T07:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T07:31:46.597-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SmSD2thn82I/AAAAAAAAAC0/QSxPQ9bKDUw/s1600-h/karo-0008.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SmSD2thn82I/AAAAAAAAAC0/QSxPQ9bKDUw/s200/karo-0008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360554432434533218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-PH"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Perverse fantasy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-PH"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;Our love would never be. It would be taboo. It would be a forbidden love that would ruin our lives if it were to be. Our families would disown us. They will try to brainwash us into living out their fragile sense of social order. But time will not change my feelings. My feelings have a way of building up into this muddled mix-up of emotions. This uncontrollable urge is just waiting for the most inopportune moment for me to express it but I will not give in to these foolish thoughts. Desire is not love; it is merely an illusion of it. If only I had the courage or the open-mindedness to accept the reality of another I could have had a beautiful but tragic love affair. That is what I have always wished for ever since: to have that perverse desire to have life imitate art. It would be something like Romeo and Juliet. But alas, all I have ever done is to avoid it. The common sense in me prevents this from happening. It would be too much to bear. Knowing me, even the slightest hint of discomfort would unnerve and lead me into a state of denial. No matter how much I consider myself to be generally irrational, all my actions have calculated and harmless consequences. The predictability of it all is my comfort zone. That is why I still continue to deny myself from that which had been right in front of me ever since. Now that the chance is forever gone, all I can hope for is to have that vague impression of having that emotional rollercoaster in my dreams. That would be enough for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-PH"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:85%;color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:10px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-PH"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Skinship&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-PH"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;While basking in your presence, thoughts of ravaging your innocence consumed my every thought. But all I could force my body to do is grab you by the shoulders, look at you straight in the eyes and hope that this would be enough to let you know how I really feel. No matter how long I contemplate the right words to say, it continues to elude me. Are my actions enough to make myself understood? If you were on the receiving end of that random act, how would you react? It’s just not the same without you. I miss the nearness of you. No one can ever replace that unique sensation where our bodies meet in awkward but oh so innocent touch. Just the mere thought of it melts my sanity into little chewy bits of caramelized ecstasy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-PH"  style="mso-ansi-language: EN-PH;font-size:8.0pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-PH"  style="mso-ansi-language: EN-PH;font-size:8.0pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3046658980178176032?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3046658980178176032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3046658980178176032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3046658980178176032' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SmSD2thn82I/AAAAAAAAAC0/QSxPQ9bKDUw/s72-c/karo-0008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-9104751378231202631</id><published>2009-07-07T05:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T05:40:19.752-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SlNB8aYAU4I/AAAAAAAAACs/LfVMI98Ayj4/s1600-h/laptop_cat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SlNB8aYAU4I/AAAAAAAAACs/LfVMI98Ayj4/s200/laptop_cat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355696888001614722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;Living a lie is just a click away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are pressing demands that I am currently trying my best to avoid unsucessfully.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have deadlines to meet but still wasting time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh internet, why must you steal my precious time so much?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's just so much I could be doing with my life but internet completely sucks the life out of me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/24601015-9104751378231202631?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/9104751378231202631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/9104751378231202631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#9104751378231202631' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SlNB8aYAU4I/AAAAAAAAACs/LfVMI98Ayj4/s72-c/laptop_cat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-4567536510824343899</id><published>2009-06-29T04:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T05:12:27.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SkivnE-MJeI/AAAAAAAAACk/MdxmDG9giOE/s1600-h/bridge.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SkivnE-MJeI/AAAAAAAAACk/MdxmDG9giOE/s200/bridge.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352721243014178274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Ordinary day&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It felt like a normal, average, simple, no frills, kinda happy, kinda boring, kinda something missing, kinda relaxing, so so kind of day. Maybe Mondays are supposed to feel like this. At least for me that is. I'm not even anticipating what will happen in the coming days since that would make it predictable and therefore boring. But boring's good in the sense that it's not really a problem but just a state of mind that's easily remedied. Compared to the "sleep all day" attitude I had yesterday, today's not that boring actually. I could list all the things that I did today that will probably slightly amuse any reader but what's the point right? Everyone goes through this kind of day all the time so there's no need to elaborate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-4567536510824343899?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4567536510824343899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4567536510824343899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#4567536510824343899' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SkivnE-MJeI/AAAAAAAAACk/MdxmDG9giOE/s72-c/bridge.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3382456862311041388</id><published>2009-06-13T07:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T08:13:17.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Worry&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I sense something is wrong and I'm probably right. Is it wrong to assume the worst? I know I unconsciously let myself stay ignorant of the harsh realities of life so that I can fool myself into thinking that's it's going to be all right. Am I really that naive or have I been fooling myself all this time? A friend told me that know that once I've acknowledged this fact about me, why don't I find a way to make it better? Why should I even be letting things just be when I have the power to change it? Because it's easy? Because I'm spoiled? Those are not valid reasons. Excuses only get in the way of self-improvement. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But that's enough about me. What about her? Everyday I'm learning more and more about her and I finally realize why I love her. It's because I see all these things happening to her and I find it amazing how she is able to handle all these problems. My situation is nothing compared to hers. I want to support her in any way I can but I really don't know how. All that I'm doing now is trying to learn from her and hope to become a better person because of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3382456862311041388?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3382456862311041388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3382456862311041388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3382456862311041388' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-6731754181927840831</id><published>2009-05-27T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T13:42:43.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Twilight Zone.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It appears I have been sent to an alternate dimension by some malignant force set to test the boundaries of my sanity. What? Ever since I came back from the States, it's like everything has changed. I'm sleeping very early (stupid jet lag just won't go away). The days seem just seem to drag on. She's somewhere else while I'm here in Manila. Even my college classes are completely different. I can't even begin to explain how much I miss having my friends in class. It's nice that I can see them outside class but it's not just the same. Since my classes are only on Mondays and Wednesdays, what am I supposed to for the rest of the week? Find myself all over again? I've been doing that ever since but now there's too many options. I can learn new languages, work, go to the gym, write a novel, etc... Ambitious isn't it? Am I up to the task of overcoming my complacency and fearfulness? Can I finally live the life of my dreams? Not exactly. The distance between us always brings me this feeling of inadequacy and being out of touch with reality. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/24601015-6731754181927840831?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6731754181927840831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6731754181927840831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#6731754181927840831' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-2916466770774310189</id><published>2009-05-23T14:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T14:46:25.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Chance&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm finally back home. All in all, the whole trip was not that good but one thing that really made it worthwhile was meeting a new friend! Despite all the complaining and general killjoy attitude I mercilessly imposed on my parents, I enjoyed the trip in one way or another. Even just staying at home when we could've been sightseeing was very enlightening. If I were to go back again, I'd prefer to go alone just to force myself to adjust properly to the completely different lifestyle in the land of opportunity. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3 things to reminisce&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Three things come to my mind whenever I recall my time in that foreign land. First was that of buying lots of games (after all, that was my primary motivation of going there in the first place!). It can be said that you can never be really be satisfied with what you have but in my case, I bought enough games to last me for a long while. Another thing that always lingers in my mind is the thought of her even though we were thousands of miles away. The last and most eventful was meeting someone new. It surprises me that a chance encounter would lead me to meet such a wonderful person. Amidst all the flight delays and claustrophobic moments of riding an airplane, She made my fears and insecurities disappear. I hope we will meet again, my beautiful stranger. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And by the way, I'm currently experiencing jet lag. Just saying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-2916466770774310189?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2916466770774310189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2916466770774310189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#2916466770774310189' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-726202795083277613</id><published>2009-05-12T04:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T05:01:02.717-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am not enjoying this at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think of a happy place. Happy place, happy place, happy place. Imagine this is just a bad dream. When I wake up I'll be back home. In my own little controlled world. Enjoyment is not authentic if it is forced upon you. Don't consider me lucky that I can go to a foreign land because this is not what I wanted. The material things I've bought don't amount to anything compared to the time I've lost that should've been spent closer to the one I love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-726202795083277613?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/726202795083277613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/726202795083277613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#726202795083277613' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-6574179086384075513</id><published>2009-05-04T06:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T06:58:16.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>indulgence and withdrawal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am getting disoriented staying in this foreign country. I'm getting lots of food, relaxing time, and buying stuff i don't really need. But why am I feeling that it's not enough. I don't belong here. I should be back home starving half the time, forced to study, and saving money. But most of all I miss her. Why did I go in the first place? Are temporary fleeting pleasures better than staying in my comfort zone? Maybe I'm homesick. Maybe I'm lovesick. But mostly I'm tired of this place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-6574179086384075513?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6574179086384075513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6574179086384075513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#6574179086384075513' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1012441170929624189</id><published>2009-04-22T05:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T05:56:47.712-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Training&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Se8Tvq-udsI/AAAAAAAAACc/acxFD_G_FD4/s1600-h/DSC01553.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327498593914746562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Se8Tvq-udsI/AAAAAAAAACc/acxFD_G_FD4/s320/DSC01553.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; That's me on the right. Flying kicks are awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Se8TvWUD2EI/AAAAAAAAACU/POQQ14PNSNY/s1600-h/DSC01548.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327498588367083586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Se8TvWUD2EI/AAAAAAAAACU/POQQ14PNSNY/s320/DSC01548.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Me and my cousins mastering the art of levitation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/24601015-1012441170929624189?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1012441170929624189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1012441170929624189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1012441170929624189' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Se8Tvq-udsI/AAAAAAAAACc/acxFD_G_FD4/s72-c/DSC01553.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1092912353192115534</id><published>2009-04-20T04:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T04:19:00.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Escape; then back to rebel stage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In three days I'll be leaving for the states for one month vacation. What does this mean? It means I'll be busy trying to have fun in a foreign land without that special someone. It also means I'll be forgetting all about the shit I messed up in school. Should I go to school now and try to fix it? maybe not. I'll just deal with it next month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will my parents even have time to hassle me when I'm on vacation? It's possible; judging from the fact that by even doing absolutely nothing at home I'm still being closely guarded and being reprimanded if I don't respond to their demands immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wasting time just isn't as thrilling and taboolicious when I'm not procrastinating while I'm doing it. It's feels empty and pointless rather than escapist and stress relieving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1092912353192115534?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1092912353192115534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1092912353192115534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1092912353192115534' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-4508189768762920086</id><published>2009-04-14T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T21:42:35.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Parental guidance is not advised&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this time in my life, my father is telling me not to get serious with this girl that I like. He’s even telling me that I’m too young to handle a serious relationship. I can learn, you know... If I’m not going to take things seriously for once in my life how am I going to live as a responsible adult in the future(unlike my father?). He just doesn’t want me to make the same mistakes that he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even finishing college is just a way for him to compensate for the fact that he and my brother didn’t finish college. Why is he imposing these things on me? I know he’s just trying to tell me what’s best for me but all that I see is that he’s just being a selfish parent. If he really wants me learn he has to let me be. Let me be the one to make those mistakes. I want to do it on my own and not be told what I should or shouldn’t do. Just because he fucked up doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m going to be like that too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-4508189768762920086?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4508189768762920086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4508189768762920086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#4508189768762920086' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-2098982745578799884</id><published>2009-03-30T06:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T07:09:14.737-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Home alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was sprawled on the living room floor while staring at the ceiling, I contemplated the purpose of my life. Where is my family? Sheltered life is so easy but feels so meaningless. I feel like a piece of furniture dying to be noticed but there's no one here to do that. Despite this moment of solitude, peace of mind eludes me. There is always this insatiable hunger for meaning I cannot even begin to satiate. Maybe it's just my stomach rumbling for me to eat dinner already.&lt;br /&gt;The concepts of school refusal (no more college) and Hikikomori (acute social withdrawal) linger in my mind. The lack of a clear life goal bothers me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-2098982745578799884?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2098982745578799884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2098982745578799884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#2098982745578799884' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-5558859991483795039</id><published>2009-03-26T20:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T04:21:38.622-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Family politics&lt;br /&gt;I was supposed to be the good child in the family but the balance of power has changed. My sisters have all left abroad so they are not suitable targets for my parents to focus on doing their parental control thing. The brother I had vowed to loathe forever has changed. He used to be the anti-social irresponsible one but now he has become so virtuous and completely good that it makes me want to cry. He used to be the one who was always scolded. So where does that leave me? I used to be the only one who was left alone to do whatever I wanted without any fear of parental intervention but now everything I do is under close scrutiny. From exercising to how I handle my relationships, there is no end to what my parents can find something to lecture me. What am I supposed to do now? Is there no escape? Asian society dictates that I maintain close family ties but it’s suffocating me completely. I can completely foresee what my parents are planning for me and it may seem like “it’s for my own good” but that doesn’t mean I’ll be completely subservient to their every whim. It feels like I’m entrenched in familial obligation. My future career and even how I should have fun is dictated by my parents. It’s like I’m living on their terms and not on mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stuck in college&lt;br /&gt;Why did I go to college anyway? Is it just because society demands that I get a degree just to get work in the future? Why can’t I just be a professional poker player? I really thought that if my parents want me to work for the family company, they should have forced me to go into a business course but no. I chose to take up literature/English secondary education for some reason. I knew it wasn’t my real passion (I like it only for a bit) but what can I do? I’m not as long-term oriented as my sisters who have decided to enrol in more glamorous courses like fashion design and culinary arts. I don’t want to be like my brother either who’s taken up some business course.&lt;br /&gt;Now I have one more year to finish my studies. But I don’t want to take up formal schooling anymore. I want to learn on my own terms. I want to be free. Maybe I could run away and be a prodigal son? I know that would be hard but at least I could taste true freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ideal vs. Real&lt;br /&gt;In an ideal world, I would be living the life of a bohemian; being an artist/writer. I could even be hosting my own travel show! I could be living in different countries every to learn about different cultures. I’ll do all sorts of random things interacting with foreigners. Alas, it is only in my dreams for now.&lt;br /&gt;In the real world I am stuck being a puppet to other people’s whims. My parents are planning everything already so that it seems like they’re imposing their dreams on me. I am not a vessel for my parents’ ambitions. In the first place, I am not ambitious. There’s more to life than earning money and social status but it would appear to be the opposite in reality.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-5558859991483795039?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5558859991483795039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5558859991483795039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#5558859991483795039' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7166250109420162291</id><published>2009-03-12T08:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T08:33:06.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yummy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7166250109420162291?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7166250109420162291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7166250109420162291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7166250109420162291' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-6956869374342301996</id><published>2009-03-06T06:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T06:34:43.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So near, yet so far...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at her place yesterday, but she was sleeping. I waited for her but decided to go home eventually. Today I'm at a friend's house. Decided to sleep over but my parents won't let me...&lt;br /&gt;Why does these things happen? Am I deliberately setting myself up for disappointment? At least I tried. It was fun but there was always something missing. Not enough time. She wasn't there. I guess I just have to make the most out of it no matter what shortcomings may arise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-6956869374342301996?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6956869374342301996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6956869374342301996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#6956869374342301996' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1360585623558962630</id><published>2009-03-03T21:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T22:09:04.625-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Enfeeblement&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mental and physical fatigue has finally taken its toll on me. It's weird for someone like me who should be lazy would become sick of too much activity. That's why I can't be serious and have fun at the same time. Taking things seriously makes me exert too much effort while having fun seems so effortless. I wish I had the same outlook in life as her. My passive nature is contradictory to my hyperactivity. If only I could exert that much effort and motivation in work, school, or any other mandatory activity. But how can I do that if the apparent rewards for accomplishing those tasks seem insignificant to what I already have? It's like taking the opposite of a Behaviorist approach: The rewards are already given even before the required tasks are even initiated. I already have what I want so why should I work for it? I know I haven't really earned it but does it really matter if I did? I'm already satisfied with what I have. I'm not as ambitious as her. Gaining a sense of accomplishment would only have a negative effect on me. If there was any way I could change this I'd gladly accept it. So come on, give me a reason to be more than I can be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1360585623558962630?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1360585623558962630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1360585623558962630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1360585623558962630' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-9009089119597384051</id><published>2009-03-02T16:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T16:57:45.815-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How I feel most of the time.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Another day without you... I'm feeling the highs and lows of each passing moment filled with intense emotion... At times feeling the hope of your love and at other instances feeling the worthlessness and meaningless existence I live when I'm not by your side. I'm caught in the endless void of quiet desperation with no one else worth sharing my feelings for you. When will it ever end...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-9009089119597384051?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/9009089119597384051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/9009089119597384051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#9009089119597384051' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7148239992174538688</id><published>2009-03-01T18:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T18:15:31.553-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Deja Vu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; (I'm lazy to post something new so I'll just repost my previous posts.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Distance creates a seemingly unrequited love.&lt;/strong&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Or it could be just be me being unclear about my intentions. I don't live in the future. I'm too caught up in the moment to care about another person's feelings. There is an unseen hindrance for me to express my bottled-up feelings. Since I am so focused on bringing that out, I neglect to interpret the feelings of that person who has taken my heart away. Maybe that's why I'm not good at a conventional boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. My love is one that ultimately expressed in this written medium that may not be appropriate for her satisfaction. I know her efforts are not reciprocated because I have this tendency to overanalyze something so simple. All of the things that could have made a relationship work are not being done. I'm much too passive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dramatic reclusion&lt;/strong&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Holed up in my room all day is taking its toll on my emotional health. It's like I'm turning to a zombie; losing the inkling of social skill I may have and being driven solely by hunger. It's bad enough that school life is kind of monotonous but once I realize I'm doing the same things everyday doesn't help one bit. It's possible to see things in a new perspective to make life better but without the girl being here makes it hard for me feel "joie de vivre." I know she wants to make any semblance of a relationship work but I'm just not good at that. I'm still too bottled up in my emotions to empathize and respond to her feelings right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Finding the right words to say&lt;/strong&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;If I say those three letter words, would it mean anything to you? Would you believe it? I have friends who say it so casually that I'm at a loss of words when I try to reply to them. Honestly, I'm jealous they can say it without hesitation. Why is it so easy for them to say it? I've had a traumatic experience with those words before. Someone forced those words out of me. And I didn't mean it completely.            Nowadays I speak sparingly. When I do speak a lot, I make sure it's playful. Is there even a need to be so serious? If she ever wondered why I don't talk much to her it's because I prefer to let my actions speak. But how can I do that if she's not here yet? The distance between us only makes it harder for me to do just that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Define me.&lt;/strong&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What should a hopeless romantic do when the love of his life is a thousand miles away? How does he cope with living without her by his side? Does he need companionship? Definitely. But in this kind of relationship he needs to be completely honest with his feelings (which is something I'm afraid to truly show). I know I'm intentionally keeping my relationships vaguely defined. I feel no need to define anything since in doing so will only lead to predetermined roles and predictable outcomes. Dealing with friends is not what I'm good at. All I'm good at is knowing and being myself. Why did it have to be this way? We could have been an item years ago but fate (or just my foolish indecision and complacency) states that it is not yet time for us "to be or not to be." I must be relentlessly tempted by the fruit of another whilst I wait for her to come back and see it through my long-awaited happy ending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nightbird, sing her my song.&lt;/strong&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A certain song just gets stuck on my mind. Sometimes it's just a catchy tune or it's extremely danceable (in my own little interpretative kind of way). But there are moments when a song has enough emotional impact that it actually becomes a reminder of some past event or feeling. Just hearing that song brings all those emotions back. Normal speech does not do enough justice to what I could possibly express when music can do it for me. That's why I prefer to play music when I'm too emotional to talk rationally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Am I even ready?&lt;/strong&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Of course not. I don't even have sufficient experience to have ____ in my life. I think I know the possible problems that may occur (I've seen it in the movies, read it in books, seen it from others in real life) and those things that they argue about all seem so petty. Why go through all that trouble just to have some sense of companionship in one's life. Simple; it makes life much more meaningful. So what if you have everything you could ever buy but have no one to share it with? Even the things that you've worked hard for don't amount to anything if there's no one else to acknowledge or even benefit from it. I work better alone rather than with someone trying to have a conversation with me. I prefer to just listen while they're talking. I'm boring that way. I only pretend to be a good listener. The moment I talk, randomness ensues. Inappropriate, tactless, out-of-character random talk. That's why when I actually have a proper conversation with ____ I'm at a loss for words. I'm too conscious that I might say something wrong or something honestly embarrassing. That's why I'm not ready. Relationships are all about openness and trust. How can she trust me if I'm not open about my feelings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I've been passing time.&lt;/strong&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There's just so much I want to do in this world but alas, I have but one life to live. I can't be everything that's why I live life on the surface; merely having a taste of everything instead of focusing on one dedication. But there is one thing that I want to have and keep aiming for all of my life. Something is telling me that she's my reason for living. All the things I do feel insignificant compared to what I could have and what we could do when I'm finally with her. What more can I say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This is bad...&lt;/strong&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There is something I like to call a vicious cycle. What is this? It's a theory about how some people end up in the crappy situation over and over again. For example, my vicious cycle would be my tendency to end up in a state of waiting which causes a delayed start-up of any possible romantic relationship. To put it in more simple terms, I'm always waiting but never doing. Is it my fault that the girl I want has to be far away (either in physical distance, emotional unavailability, lack of communication, extreme parental supervision, or whatever excuse that may come up with just to make it clear that she's not going to be there for me indefinitely)? "In God's time..." as someone said to me. That's going to be a VERY. LONG. TIME. The days seem longer than the months or even the years. Today is taking so long but the past has already come and gone so you think that A LOT has happened before.            It's nice that I have almost all the material things I could ever want but these superficial possessions only serve to distract me from my one true goal: LOVE. Corny, ain't it? I have the right to be cheesy now since these are where all my true feelings come out. In real life and my interactions with other people, I've come to realize that nothing else matters if I don't have that feeling of longing. I'm afraid that once I finally get that person it won't be what I dream of. I find pleasure in pretending that she's actually the perfect person for me but the truth is I will never really know if that's the case since all I really know about her is her name(which I'm not telling...). I only have these assumptions about her that make her so idealized that it actually distorts the reality of her existence. There are moments in my life that could possibly be better than her love but these events are to fleeting and are easily forgotten. Their emotional impact only last as long as a few hours or maybe just a memory that eventually fades away and must be replaced with something new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Spacing out.&lt;/strong&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;In one rare moment, I wasn't doing anything. Now this would have been impossible because nowadays I've got no time to just waste. It was kind of refreshing to have that moment where you feel detached from the world. It's like everything becomes surreal and you realize that it's all just a facade. After that it was back to physical exertion. And more thinking. Even when I'm sleeping I'm worried about everything and my dreams become sources of frustration. Another kind of spacing out (which wasn't fun at all) was that I was trying hard not to sleep in class. Before I actually enjoyed doing it but now I actually have to listen to every little thing in class to pass my subjects. Does being stressed make you like that? You've got no more time to rest that eventually your body forces you to just take a break when you least expect it. I don't know if I even want to do the things I do anymore. All I wanted was happiness but why is there so much stuff in the way? Why do I even bother with conforming to society just to be a part of this big lie? I think it would be easier if she were here to comfort me but that can't be. I have to do more waiting and just hope that a long-distance relationship will work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;nothing much to say&lt;/strong&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What do you talk about when you've got nothing to say? Especially if it's a date? Do you make up stories? Talk about randomness and the things around you? Or try to talk about your feelings? Yuck. Dating takes a lot. Specifically money and complete attention of your prospective date. I prefer to go out alone. It's much easier. No one but yourself to be mindful of. I prefer not having a girlfriend (but in reality I’m just jealous of others). Maybe just friends would be enough for me.Revelation/Obsession            In case anybody doesn't know, I'm very conscious of my dreams and their possible implications. They could possibly be future events, hidden insights or just utter nonsense. In the case of a recent dream, it's more of an epiphany. I finally understood what was wrong. The girl I (supposedly) like finally appears in a major role in m dreams this time. We meet at the mall, feel awkward, I confess my feelings, I try to make out (only gets more awkward), she accuses me of stalking her (even though she lives so far away and I'm too lazy to do that), and I finally accept the fact that she's not "The One." I even went to the same mall when I woke up and nothing happened (she wasn't there). The one who was there was my cousin and his girlfriend. Now I'm going to assume the lesson here is that... uhmmm... not be unnecessarily infatuated with the wrong person? I think. Be more discerning in your chosen person of obsession. For example, Mandy Moore can be a good person to be obsessed with. You can pretend to understand her through her songs, watch her movies, and like her for just being herself. It's much more acceptable (I think) to be head over heels over some superstar than with someone you barely even know or remember being friends. Maybe in another life I could have been with her but maybe not this time. For now, I'll just look for more signs in my dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;States of Happiness&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is seeing her smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Happiness is reading a beautiful novel or watching something insightful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Happiness is being all emotional about this girl I like.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Happiness is thoughts of infatuation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Happiness is dreaming.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Happiness is hanging out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Happiness is escaping from the pressures of the real world through various means.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Happiness is when people acknowledge my presence especially through compliments no matter how shallow they may sound.&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/24601015-7148239992174538688?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7148239992174538688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7148239992174538688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7148239992174538688' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-8745260057326850853</id><published>2009-02-23T04:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T05:07:50.839-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>First date&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a completely spontaneous manner, I asked a friend out. Now I've known her ever since we were kids but we really haven't hanged out with just the two of us. It's kinda strange that it's only now that I've noticed her and seen her in a different way. Attraction is such a fickle mistress for me. For years I've been pining over some girl that could possibly be out of reach and now I'm dating someone who I thought was out of my league! So how did the date go? It was fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-8745260057326850853?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8745260057326850853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8745260057326850853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#8745260057326850853' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-6729422589294270302</id><published>2009-02-15T06:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T07:17:57.269-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Selfishness negates my sympathy for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something bad happened to "the girl." Something life-threateningly bad. A typical reaction that would be expected from her friends or family would be a sense of sympathy for this unfortunate incident. But no such emotion came from me. Any feelings I had felt for her are now lost in the passing of time. Is this who I really am? Selfishness overpowers any feelings of love (if I ever did have it). I guess my infatuation for her wasn't really love after all. It was just a phase.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-6729422589294270302?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6729422589294270302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6729422589294270302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#6729422589294270302' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3091863646711699456</id><published>2009-01-25T07:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T07:55:07.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>All I ever wanted...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;was for her to reciprocate my feelings. At the very least tell it to my face that she hates me if she doesn't love me back. That way I won't delude myself into thinking that we can be together. But no... She has to go somewhere else; I can't contact her; so many excuses that prevent me from asking her just that. Is my love for her just a lie? But how can my love be a lie when she doesn't seem to realize it in the first place?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3091863646711699456?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3091863646711699456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3091863646711699456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3091863646711699456' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-8529061297613450342</id><published>2009-01-10T08:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T08:52:29.527-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My favorite story:&lt;br /&gt;The fierce dinosaur was trapped inside his cage of ice until the lovely other dinosaur came and melted it with kind thoughts and loving words. Now they stand together on the hill, telling each other stories and feeling the warmth of the sun on their backs. The End.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only life was as simple as that... Why must there be so many walls to deny our true love?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-8529061297613450342?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8529061297613450342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8529061297613450342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#8529061297613450342' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1910372421497293840</id><published>2009-01-03T10:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T10:32:47.248-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's all about the hair...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I saw something on facebook recently... And it's left me in fits of obsessive infatuation. She has curly hair now?!? I know I'm being superficial but come on... It's all about the hair! Fate; Why do you do this to me? I should have never left things unresolved with her. I want to see her in person... right now! Just because...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1910372421497293840?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1910372421497293840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1910372421497293840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1910372421497293840' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-4878875005177841514</id><published>2009-01-03T09:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T09:51:44.160-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Separation Anxiety&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When you're all the way on the top, there's nowhere else to go but down." This holiday season has really been a high point for me. In what sense? That would definitely be in the realm of family bonding and typical bumming around. What could be missing? If I didn't think about it, nothing. But you know me... I'm always thinking about a certain girl whose name I dare not mention. Who is she anyway? Well... All that matters is that I miss her since I haven't seen or talked to her for an indefinite amount of time. If she was here with me now she would probably be hearing me sing "I'm Missing You" by Meja. As of this moment, I'm trying to call her but this would would probably be in vain since it's 1:47am (I'll just give her a missed call).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-4878875005177841514?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4878875005177841514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4878875005177841514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#4878875005177841514' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-5906144588570807132</id><published>2008-12-20T22:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T22:22:33.444-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Being In Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The real moments of love remain unspoken. When you are really feeling love, that very feeling creates around you a certain radiance that says everything you cannot say, that cannot be said."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why force me into doing something that cannot be done? Don't demand something from me that cannot be given. There is no need for her to be worried about something that has not yet come into fruition. In time, our love will be realized. For now, it is just an illusion; merely wishful thinking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-5906144588570807132?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5906144588570807132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5906144588570807132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#5906144588570807132' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1701949767261608676</id><published>2008-12-17T10:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T10:36:33.184-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend/Boyfriend??? I'm so not used to that... It's been like 4? 5 years of me not having a girlfriend? I got used to just waiting that it became enough for me. I'm not even trying anymore. It's nice that you're trying to make me open up and talk about it. Of course I've thought about it endlessly. Nothing would please me more than being  together with the one I love through a social engagement. It would merely be a formality but at least there's comfort in knowing that I'm dedicated to you. Even my dreams are telling me to make my move now like it's some sort of ultimatum. Her absence only makes my heart grow fonder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1701949767261608676?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1701949767261608676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1701949767261608676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1701949767261608676' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3248379285934124085</id><published>2008-12-12T08:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T09:01:36.823-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wallflower&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I envy those who have their own group of friends. I guess that's the price I have to pay for being an introvert. Hanging out with my blockmates really puts me out of place. It's even worse when my crush wasn't there to make the get-together complete. Is it my fault that I don't have own barkada? Or am I just not that type of person who requires constant companionships? I'm too caught up in my whirlwind of emotions (mood swings) to pay any attention or give my time and attention to a friend. I always get the feeling that I don't fit in. I enjoy being in the company of others but I'm merely an observer. I can't relate at all. They (my blockmates) may have the same age as me but what they're going through is completely unlike my own experiences.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3248379285934124085?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3248379285934124085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3248379285934124085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3248379285934124085' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7240729542442896833</id><published>2008-12-08T07:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T07:38:43.648-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Keepin' busy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't updated this blog in a while. Why is this so? It's because it's practically christmas break for me and have a ton of gaming to do! My major agenda would be Guitar Hero: World Tour. I'll be pretending to be a rock star for the holidays and even let some friends join in the fun. Oh yeah! I'm even kind of working/helping out with the tiangge thing (cashier duty). There's even choir practice for caroling and simbang gabi for me to worry about. It's a good thing it doesn't feel that hectic 'coz it's all good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How to call her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I have some mild fear of using the telephone. I'm hesitant to answer the phone and I rarely call someone for whatever reason. This could be a problem since the main form of connection I have with my beloved would be through the phone. I feel so guilty when she has to call me and I don't have much to say to her. Is it because I'm afraid of saying something wrong? Am I not just a good conversationalist? "Actions speak louder than words." I'm more of a touchy-feely body language kind-of-guy so talking's not my forte. I cannot overcome the limitations of a vocal medium.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7240729542442896833?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7240729542442896833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7240729542442896833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7240729542442896833' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-5958964128204610485</id><published>2008-11-23T04:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T04:56:47.455-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Distance creates a seemingly unrequited love.&lt;br /&gt;Or it could be just be me being unclear about my intentions. I don't live in the future. I'm too caught up in the moment to care about another person's feelings. There is an unseen hindrance for me to express my bottled-up feelings. Since I am so focused on bringing that out I neglect to interpret the feelings of that person who has taken my heart away. Maybe that's why I'm not good at a conventional boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. My love is one that ultimately expressed in this written medium that may not be appropriate for her satisfaction. I know her efforts are not reciprocated because I have this tendency to overanalyze something so simple. All of the things that could have made a relationship work are not being done. I'm much too passive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Proximity breeds affection.&lt;br /&gt;And then there is the case of opportunity shoving itself right in my face. How can I avoid the temptation of falling for another who's right beside me almost every day? It cannot be avoided. I must first test the waters to see if my boat floats in such a close ocean or requires more ideal conditions that can only be found in a body of water on the other side of the world. "Testing the waters" would definitely equate to spontaneous action and impeccable timing from my part. But how would the reciever respond? What say ye?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-5958964128204610485?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5958964128204610485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5958964128204610485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#5958964128204610485' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7261525746026281417</id><published>2008-11-16T01:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T02:10:06.800-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Stuff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A relatively happy day = field trip in a place called hidden valley; hiking and swimming and hanging out in the bus time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not so ideal moments = bonding time with my brother who I loathe forever but who tries (oh so annoyingly) to be friendly to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rose - Where is my favorite classmate? Too busy in her other classes? Too bad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emotional hibernation means I give the cold shoulder often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dwelling on the past  - I remember we were just hanging out in some place; talking about sweet nothings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living in the moment - Did I mention I'm easily swayed by my fickle emotions? It's fun! Never a dull moment (for me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for the best - We can do this together! Let us have a serious conversation about the rest of our lives soon(then maybe after have some lovey-dovey time).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7261525746026281417?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7261525746026281417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7261525746026281417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7261525746026281417' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-5683678060767799546</id><published>2008-10-28T08:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T09:12:14.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dramatic reclusion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holed up in my room all day is taking its toll on my emotional health. It's like I'm turning to a zombie; losing the inkling of social skill I may have and being driven solely by hunger. It's bad enough that school life is kind of monotonous but once I realize I'm doing the same thing everyday doesn't help one bit. It's possible to see things in a new perspective to make life better but without the girl being here makes it hard for me feel "joie de vivre." I know she wants to make any semblance of a relationship work but I'm just not good at that. I'm still too bottled up in my emotions to empathize and respond to her feelings right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-5683678060767799546?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5683678060767799546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5683678060767799546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#5683678060767799546' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1264941494462189237</id><published>2008-10-26T08:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T08:14:35.925-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Typical week&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to the chapel in school every schoolday (pray for true love).&lt;br /&gt;Having fun in class (practicing my sense of humor for you).&lt;br /&gt;Playing video games and watching anime (to avoid thoughts of loneliness).&lt;br /&gt;Playing mahjong (is luck in gambling inversely proportional to luck in love?).&lt;br /&gt;Going to mass choir (singing my heart out).&lt;br /&gt;Going to the mall (practicing my dating protocol).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1264941494462189237?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1264941494462189237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1264941494462189237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1264941494462189237' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-476848359214258216</id><published>2008-10-20T08:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T08:28:23.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There is a wall. I must get over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not used to this thing called a "long-distance relationship." It's too distant. I want more proximity. The only way I know how to communicate with her properly is face to face, not online or through the telephone. I express my love through physical gestures. I need an outlet and it may seem inappropriate that I show it completely to my friends. It needs to be her. Should I wait for her a little bit longer or shall I try to make this thing that you're trying work?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-476848359214258216?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/476848359214258216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/476848359214258216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#476848359214258216' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-6633318814522239504</id><published>2008-10-15T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T08:47:04.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My heart looks for her: she is not with me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-6633318814522239504?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6633318814522239504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6633318814522239504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#6633318814522239504' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-292775649462297035</id><published>2008-10-11T04:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T05:19:32.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Finding the right words to say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I say those three letter words, would it mean anything to you? Would you believe it? I have friends who say it so casually that I'm at a loss of words when I try to reply to them. Honestly, I'm jealous they can say it without hesitation. Why is it so easy for them to say it?&lt;br /&gt;I've had a traumatic experience with those words before. Someone forced those words out of me.&lt;br /&gt;And I didn't mean it completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nowadays I speak sparingly. When I do speak a lot, I make sure it's playful (Why so serious?). If she ever wondered why I don't talk much to her it's because I prefer to let my actions speak. But how can I do that if she's not here yet? The distance between us only makes it harder for me to do just that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-292775649462297035?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/292775649462297035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/292775649462297035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#292775649462297035' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-5160521658831646837</id><published>2008-10-09T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T20:01:36.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>stuff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Playing Wii Sports for three hours is A LOT of exercise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. It's hard to find the right clothes to wear when it it's hot and sunny in the morning, rains relentlessly in the afternoon, and sticky and humid in the evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I still have so many books at home that I haven't finished reading. I wish I could read faster!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Playing Mahjong is awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I hardly eat rice these days. The last rice thing that I ate was rice krispies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Watching a lot of new anime series (new season=new anime)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I want to buy stuff! But I also want to save money. What do I do???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. New long-term goal: Be a polyglot (being fluent in many languages). English, Tagalog, Japanese, Korean, Mandarin, Spanish, Portugues, etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Encyclopediadramatica.com is superfunny! It's this wikipedia parody site that's all about the LULz! You should look at it immediately!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I wish I could've done all these fun things with her... And maybe also I could enjoy the things she does too (even if she's a thousand miles away). I'm not so good when I'm talking to her on the phone so I hope she understands that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-5160521658831646837?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5160521658831646837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5160521658831646837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#5160521658831646837' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7086204578656879522</id><published>2008-10-01T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T07:35:04.172-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Surrogate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What should a hopeless romantic do when the love of his life is a thousand miles away? How does he cope with living without her by his side? Does he need companionship? Definitely. But in this kind of relationship he needs to be completely honest with his feelings (which is something I'm afraid to truly show).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm intentionally keeping my relationships vaguely defined. I feel no need to define anything since in doing so will only lead to predetermined roles and predictable outcomes. Dealing with friends is not what I'm good at. All I'm good at is knowing and being myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did it have to be this way? We could have been an item years ago but fate (or just my foolish indecision and complacency) states that it is not yet time for us "to be or not to be." I must be relentlessly tempted by the fruit of another whilst I wait for her to come back and see it through my long-awaited happy ending.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7086204578656879522?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7086204578656879522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7086204578656879522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7086204578656879522' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3031530166434333646</id><published>2008-09-28T07:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T08:58:55.038-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>These are the reasons why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You give me purpose.&lt;br /&gt;You give me hope.&lt;br /&gt;You give me happiness.&lt;br /&gt;You give me inspiration.&lt;br /&gt;You give me love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3031530166434333646?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3031530166434333646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3031530166434333646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3031530166434333646' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1043374493582682780</id><published>2008-09-24T06:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T06:44:56.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Nightbird, sing her my song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A certain song just gets stuck on my mind. Sometimes it's just a catchy tune or it's extremely danceable (in my own little interpretative kind of way). But there are moments when a song has enough emotional impact that it actually becomes a reminder of some past event or feeling. Just hearing that song brings all those emotions back. Normal speech does not do enough justice to what I could possibly express when music can do it for me. That's why I prefer to play music when I'm too emotional to talk rationally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UPDATE!:&lt;br /&gt;For some reason, the most appropriate music to describe how I usually feel is the music that my father (and probably yours too) listens too. It's so ironic that my knee-jerk reaction to listening to those sappy love songs for the first time is to cringe and cover my ears. Eventually, I've gotten so used to it that I actually love them to bits. It sort of crawls into the soul and embeds itself as aural representations of my emotions. I hope ____ finally realizes how I feel about her. Maybe I can do it by just letting her listen to my music? That would be a long shot but in my opinion makes those moments together much more meaningful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1043374493582682780?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1043374493582682780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1043374493582682780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1043374493582682780' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-4102540337344590987</id><published>2008-09-19T19:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T20:06:16.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Am I even ready?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course not. I don't even have sufficient experience to have ____ in my life. I think I know the possible problems that may occur (I've seen it in the movies, read it in books, seen it from others in real life) and those things that they argue about all seem so petty. Why go through all that trouble just to have some sense of companionship in one's life. Simple; it makes life much more meaningful. So what if you have everything you could ever buy but have no one to share it with? Even the things that you've worked hard for don't amount to anything if there's no one else to acknowledge or even benefit from it. I work better alone rather than with someone trying to have a conversation with me. I prefer to just listen while they're talking. I'm boring that way. I only pretend to be a good listener. The moment I talk, randomness ensues. Inappropriate, tactless, out-of-character random talk. That's why when I actually have a proper conversation with ____ I'm at a loss for words. I'm too conscious that I might say something wrong or something honestly embarrassing. That's why I'm not ready. Relationships are all about openness and trust. How can she trust me if I'm not open about my feelings?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-4102540337344590987?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4102540337344590987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4102540337344590987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#4102540337344590987' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7857019433238960249</id><published>2008-09-18T05:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T06:26:26.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Disturbia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this tendency to have these random hyperactive outbursts. Dancing funny, singing whatever, talking about whatever comes up in my mind, etc... It's like my way of releasing all this pent-up emotion inside of me. It's one of the things that keep me sane while I keep on deluding myself into thinking that I'll get what I want without doing a goddamn thing. I want to be unpredictable so as to prevent any nihilistic thoughts that looms over me constantly. I fancy myself to be a loner but in truth I crave attention and company. It's hard to be an introvert when the whole world is forcing itself down my throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got into college I really didn't know what I wanted to be yet (I still don't). I just chose to major in literature since learning more about it could expand my creative horizons and strengthen my critical thinking skills. It did, but my low motivation hindered me from finishing that course. Now I'm studying how to be an English teacher (despite  my parent's very persuasive argument that I manage the company that's being handed to me on a silver platter). Now I'm starting to think that everything I'm learning now won't actually be used to its full extent since there's a very slim chance I'll be teaching after I (hopefully) graduate. So why am I still studying anyway? I'm envious of my sisters since they actually have a single profession that they want to pursue. In my case, I still haven't made up my mind. I'm too content just living out my college days. It's like procrastinating and cramming; I'll only do something at the very moment that it's needed critically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I setting myself up for disappointment or maybe all the waiting is worth it? I wouldn't really know since I'm too caught up in all the mundane things that I'm "supposed to do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;__________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - You're the coolest person I know.&lt;br /&gt;Friend - Really?&lt;br /&gt;Me - Really!&lt;br /&gt;Me - You know what would be more awesome than that simple fact?&lt;br /&gt;Friend - What?&lt;br /&gt;Me - If we became more than just friends...&lt;br /&gt;Friend - What are you saying?&lt;br /&gt;Me - Will you be my ____?&lt;br /&gt;Friend - But it's too soon, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;Me - So you think that we should wait?&lt;br /&gt;Friend - Exactly, let's get to know each other better first&lt;br /&gt;Me - There's no need.&lt;br /&gt;Friend - But that's just wrong! What if we aren't meant to be ______?&lt;br /&gt;Me - I see where you're coming from... Hmmm... What about if we...&lt;br /&gt;Friend - If we what?&lt;br /&gt;Me - What if we "pretend" that we were ______ even for just a day?&lt;br /&gt;Friend - Ok, but on one condition.&lt;br /&gt;Me - What is it?&lt;br /&gt;Friend - If it doesn't work out, Don't let that be a reason to ruin our friendship.&lt;br /&gt;Me - See? You know me inside out already! We'd be perfect as ______!&lt;br /&gt;Friend - Let's wait and see...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;__________&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7857019433238960249?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7857019433238960249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7857019433238960249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7857019433238960249' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3284103526763174508</id><published>2008-09-17T03:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T03:54:55.725-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've been passing time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's just so much I want to do in this world but alas, I have but one life to live. I can't be everything that's why I live life on the surface; merely having a taste of everything instead of focusing on one dedication. But there is one thing that I want to have and keep aiming for all of my life. Something is telling me that she's my reason for living. All the things I do feel insignificant compared to what I could have and what we could do when I'm finally with her. What more can I say?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3284103526763174508?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3284103526763174508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3284103526763174508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3284103526763174508' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1621430347666256888</id><published>2008-09-14T05:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T06:41:34.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When there's a will, there's a way!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Of course I will wait for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   My heart will not waver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   I will do my best in everything that I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   I will plan for "our" future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Escaping reality is not the only way to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Have faith.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1621430347666256888?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1621430347666256888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1621430347666256888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1621430347666256888' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3423797351293519158</id><published>2008-09-12T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T10:07:50.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Priorities&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened today? Nothing much... Just worried about what I was going to eat. After all, a growing boy needs to eat at least FOUR times a day. Brunch wasn't  much (even forgot what I ate). Now dinner was awesome! Steaks and rice really hit the spot. And for desert, melted gummi bears??? I'm just tripping and reminiscing my childhood days of playing with my food. Now can't wait for my midnight meal (scrounging up the refrigerator for some leftovers and pistachio ice cream. Is eating food really that important to me? Hell yes! I'm picky about what I eat. Or maybe I just prefer MEAT! and CANDY! AND lots of FRUIT JUICE! After all, one of my new year's resolutions before was "eating is a priority." Now I'm inclined to spend all my money on food! This money could have gone to feed my gaming itch or more importantly my creative development/relationship investment opportunities. But hunger prevails over boredom or loneliness (eventually). Feed the stomach before the heart. The brain can follow when either is satiated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3423797351293519158?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3423797351293519158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3423797351293519158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3423797351293519158' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-4706690972182860087</id><published>2008-09-11T03:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T04:46:58.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Break time = ultimate bonding experience (UBE)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If something happens now that's similar to the last time... is it still the same? Can it be boring? Is it repetitive? Not necessarily... Especially if you add something new to the picture. For example, I saw my favorite person in the whole wide campus again. This seems to happen every time the term starts. I know it's fun but did I enjoy it? Definitely! It must be fate that always brings us together (LOLz!). I have a new classmate!  Now that's different! What's probably going to bother me in the coming months would probably knowing where to hang out during break time. I know I have lots of friends (thanks for the friendship! I'm too "shy" to tell them that face to face) but they can't possibly fill in all those hours just to accompany me. I need a filler. Like a laptop! I'll probably start writing my own fiction (feeling like a writer already!). Or maybe even write love letters?!? HA! Or probably just stare at the pretty moving pictures on the screeen and make them move by pressing buttons (playing video games). Even if I know that the things I do are the same, I experience a sense of child-like wonder and amusement at the little things that make all the difference in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more thing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dropped by BOOK SALE earlier and saw a book about making long distance relationships work. I wanted to buy it but I think I can handle that kind of predicament without it. I'll just spend my money on things to keep me preoccupied or even save up for some awesome gift I can give her.&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/24601015-4706690972182860087?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4706690972182860087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4706690972182860087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#4706690972182860087' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-989859179450267139</id><published>2008-09-09T08:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T09:15:05.367-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Another school term.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to talk about what would probably happen in the coming months. It has probably happened before so there's no need to talk about it. That's because I'm going to have very long lunch breaks from now on. It's clocking in at about 3 hours and 30 minutes a day. I only wish there was some way to spend it elsewhere but that would be a waste of time and money. I've got to use my imagination in thinking up of more creative ways to pass the time. Since I've spent the majority of my college life all by myself it won't really be a problem this time. It's more of an annoyance. Wouldn't it be better if I just had someone who is more than just a friend to me in school? Maybe even having the same amount of break time as I have? It just can't be possible. The people I really like to hang out with don't go to my school. They're studying somewhere and probably making the most of it while I'm left with nothing but my petty possessions and my delirium-inducing dreams to keep me preoccupied.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-989859179450267139?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/989859179450267139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/989859179450267139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#989859179450267139' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7387055623764578840</id><published>2008-09-06T07:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T10:36:39.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel pretty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh so pretty! Yes! Just going out and watching basketball in Araneta Coliseum for the first time is awesome! I'm going back there tomorrow to watch the cheerdance competition. Awesome! I'm not staying home today. Sleeping @ my cousin's house for a change of pace. Staying home all day is getting too toxic for my well-being. The more I stay at home, the more I feel not so pretty... Not so pretty?!?&lt;br /&gt;It was fun playing cards with my cousins! I wish I had moments like this with "my girl."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7387055623764578840?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7387055623764578840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7387055623764578840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7387055623764578840' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1005725356430800190</id><published>2008-09-04T05:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T05:30:58.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Doing nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? No money. Like a hamster trapped in its cage with all its amenities to keep it occupied. No option but to do all the things to pass the time and keep me alive and sane: eating and sleeping, playing video games and being online all day to keep me entertained, biking and lifting weights to keep me from becoming a couch potato, and most importantly sentimentalizing and philosophizing about love and life. My parental unit is telling me telling me to work and he's giving me a lecture about teaching as not being a viable work option after college. He's telling me to work in business and is talking about "kakainin ka ng buhay."  Eat you alive?  What does that even mean?  I'm not ambitious  really. Why should I even follow him? Eventually things like this actually mean something in the long run but will following it actually lead to my happiness? No. My road to happiness lies elsewhere. Parental units always assume they know what's best for their offspring since they assume that they can provide them with what they wanted that they couldn't have in their own lives when they were younger. Money is not everything but my parental unit seems to think differently. Maybe it's just me and my youthful idealism leading me on to the brink of mediocrity or apathy or something adults don't like to see in the youth today. I like being this way. Don't I have the right to live life the way I want or do I really have to give in to the demands/pressures of making a living in this _______ society (can't give a proper negative adjective to describe it)?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1005725356430800190?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1005725356430800190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1005725356430800190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1005725356430800190' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-5735845746063231946</id><published>2008-09-02T02:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T02:44:39.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is bad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is something I like to call a vicious cycle. What is this? It's a theory about how some people end up in the crappy situation over and over again. For example, my vicious cycle would be my tendency to end up in a state of waiting which causes a delayed start-up of any possible romantic relationship. To put it in more simple terms, I'm always waiting but never doing. Is it my fault that the girl I want has to be far away (either in physical distance, emotional unavailability, lack of communication, extreme parental supervision, or whatever excuse she may come up with just to make it clear that she's not going to be there for me indefinitely)? "In God's time..." as someone said to me. That's going to be a VERY. LONG. TIME. The days seem longer than the months or even the years. Today is taking so long but the past has already come and gone so you think that A LOT has happened before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's nice that I have almost all the material things I could ever want but these superficial possessions only serve to distract me from my one true goal: LOVE.  Corny,  ain't it? I have the right to be cheesy now since these are where all my true feelings come out. In real life and my interactions with other people, I've come to realize that nothing else matters if I don't have that feeling of longingness. I'm afraid that once I finally get that person it won't be what I dream of. I find pleasure in pretending that she's actually the perfect person for me but the truth is I will never really know if that's the case since all I really know about her is her name(which I'm not telling...). I only have these assumptions about her that make her so idealized that it actually distorts the reality of her existence. There are moments in my life that could possibly be better than her love but these events are to fleeting and are easily forgotten. Their emotional impact only last as long as a few hours or maybe just a memory that eventually fades  away and must be replaced with  something new.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-5735845746063231946?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5735845746063231946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5735845746063231946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#5735845746063231946' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7404217066885189775</id><published>2008-08-30T20:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T21:11:52.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>completely random thoughts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pirates like ham. I like ham. Does that mean I'm a pirate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I see a weird-looking building I always imagine that it is the home base of TRANSFORMERS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it's sunny outside what's better to wear/bring?&lt;br /&gt;a. Sunglasses&lt;br /&gt;b. Cap/Hat/Sombrero&lt;br /&gt;c. Umbrella&lt;br /&gt;d. Cold drinks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the best reading material when you're in the toilet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talkative and annoying or Silent and ominous?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foreign or Local?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cash or Credit Card?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7404217066885189775?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7404217066885189775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7404217066885189775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7404217066885189775' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-342243043537262247</id><published>2008-08-27T08:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T09:28:00.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Do I have to wait for a few years more to get my happy ending too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just watched a typical Hollywood romance movie (Definitely Maybe).  As always,  there's always  that suspension of disbelief wherein I  pretend to  not know who the guy will end up with and sometimes even hoping for something other than a happy ending. But deep down in my heart I know exactly what will happen. But what has this got to do with my life? Uhhhmmm.... Is it that I'm dwelling too much on something that I hope to be like my life? Something cliche like "art imitating life." Or is it because I'm jealous that movies like this show me how things could actually happen in real life. For example, in the movie the guy only gets the girl after a few years (why not now? it adds to the tearjerker ending). To add to that,  The guy has to do something so awesomely redeeming that  that the girl will actually take her back despite all stupid things the guy did to ruin their relationship in the past.  I can't do that (yet)! I'm too much passive. I prefer to just watch things happen eventually (hopefully). Is it pathetic of me to not follow my heart like what the leading man finally achieves in the end? The leading man's heart wavers because he does not know what to do when he thinks "It's complicated." But my heart does not waver. It only hopes  for one thing (which is so obvious that I will not say what it is anymore since it's the reason I'm typing here now). I use hope instead of desire because it has such a negative connotation according to what I've heard. It's something "like" being definitely a lesser emotion compared to "love." What does she think about this? Am I overanalyzing these movies too much? Definitely. But why shouldn't I? Movies serve as more than just be a source of entertainment for me. They provide ideal or possible scenarios which lead to  something  desirable.  Learn from the mistakes and be cheesy and copy the lines ("You're my happy ending").&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-342243043537262247?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/342243043537262247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/342243043537262247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#342243043537262247' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-8715159828380189544</id><published>2008-08-22T06:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T09:33:38.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Assumptions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I'm going to assume that some girl reads this blog right here.&lt;br /&gt;2. Now let's pretend that she may be the one I'm talking and thinking about every waking moment of my life...&lt;br /&gt;3. I'd like to think that she actually has the same feelings for me but is in the same situation as me; unable to express them completely and face to face.&lt;br /&gt;4. Maybe somewhere there's someone who dreams about their special someone and tells that someone (in the dream only of course) she loves you? Is it still unrequited love? There may be a deeper , almost psychic, connection between these two people...&lt;br /&gt;5. There is the possibility that words are not the most simple but not necessarily easy way to express one's feelings (although this is what I always do by typing on this here blog. Maybe I have a psychic bond with my beloved?&lt;br /&gt;6. I can say that I'm never going to say who this girl is. I can pretend to say that she may be someone to anybody but she could not really be that person just to add some sense of mystery into this simple life of mine.&lt;br /&gt;7. Deep in my heart, I know that the girl is , in the words of Michelle Branch, "everywhere to me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-8715159828380189544?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8715159828380189544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8715159828380189544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#8715159828380189544' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7325723999633022605</id><published>2008-08-21T04:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T04:45:23.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quixotic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to go some foreign country and live happily ever after  with the girl that I 'm going crazy over. We'll do whatever we want and face this world and everything it will throw at us TOGETHER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to change but I'm too complacent;  just letting myself be  the same not so good person&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to some random personality test, I'm supposed to be PHLEGMATIC. What does that mean? take a look...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Unenthusiastic&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fearful and worried&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Indecisive&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Avoids responsibility&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Quiet will of iron&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Selfish&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;To shy and reticent&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Too compromising&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Self-righteous&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;The exact qualities of a hopeless romantic. Torpelicious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daily life update:&lt;br /&gt;One more week left of school work and it's full time slacking off again! But this should be avoided. I still have relatively new dreams to fulfill, namely: Go to the next Olympics! Go to Japan! Have an awesome body and the athleticism to match! Be super studious in academic endeavors! Fall in love and not just wait for some miracle to happen! The usual stuff I guess...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7325723999633022605?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7325723999633022605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7325723999633022605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7325723999633022605' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-2588863733333015815</id><published>2008-08-07T03:36:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T04:19:57.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Something about me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Responsibilities are a hindrance to my leisure time. My potential is wasted on my own complacency. I'd rather bum around than be a slave to the pressures of what society demands of me. This can simply be called laziness. I don't care what other people  may think of my attitude towards life. Hard work hardly gives me satisfaction. It certainly doesn't give me good memories but it does contribute to my holistic development. Succumbing to my hedonistic tendencies is one thing I'm good at. I'm so used to escaping in my own little fantasy world that I neglect to see the things that are right in front of me. Reality becomes overshadowed to the point that I neglect to respond to external stimuli.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn't it be nice if people just did whatever they wanted? Something like taking up a (completely fictional) college degree on "Leisure Studies, Major in Video Gaming" would be awesome but would eventually bring me to a realization that my life would not be as meaningful (in the great scheme of things) if that was all I did. Good things can't exist without the bad. That's why the fun things I do lose their value when I don't balance it with hard work. I keep on talking about the same things over and over again on this blog but have never really gotten around to getting over my "Hamartia" (that's greek for tragic/fatal flaw). It's something I have to live with. That's why I prefer to live one day at a time, opting to satisfy my current needs rather than plan for my future by "building a foundation" to support my current lifestyle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I usually feel  every waking  moment of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What can I tell the world about her? Not much really. I'm too self-centered to know who she really is. Words are not enough to describe her. The mere thought of her brings a smile to my face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-2588863733333015815?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2588863733333015815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2588863733333015815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#2588863733333015815' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3000686219741675544</id><published>2008-08-01T07:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T04:25:24.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The quest for MANGO SHAKE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking for Mango Shake is not easy, especially on a friday night. You first have to get out of bed and stop playing video games to buy refreshments. You need money so withdraw ten thousand pesos (why so much? because you can't just buy drinks alone. You have to go shopping for a lot of things. like comics. And eat pizza with MANGO SHAKE.&lt;br /&gt;But to drink this elixir of awesomeness you first have to get yourself worked up. I did this by giving an orientation and some basic training to the new archery club members. That will really work up your craving for some succulent MANGO BLISS! Unfortunately, the place to buy MANGO SHAKE near school is closed on fridays.&lt;br /&gt;Where else could I possibly buy MANGO SHAKE??? At the mall(Robinson's Galleria)! But it's gonna take a long time getting there...  Driving to the mall is not a walk in the park. It is almost a two hour drive because of traffic congestion (I have to drive through EDSA).  On the way, I also had to bring an archery clubmate home. Driving is hard especially if it's raining and your windshield wiper is broken(splashes water all over and not clear the windshield). There's also the problem of the not so cold air-conditioning system in the car.&lt;br /&gt;Once I've gotten the mall, I have to suspend my craving for MANGO SHAKE and buy other stuff and pass by card games store and watch the players play Magic: The Gathering. Buying comics is next. One more thing... Side quest: Buy Sony Portable speakers. Side quest failed. Finally, the initial search for Nomimono! MANGO SHAKE. It was easy to find but alas! No MANGO SHAKE! Damn! Alternative: Zagu Mango Shake!  Still no Mango shake. Have to settle for GREEN APPLE ICE in Quickly. Went home. I want my MANGO SHAKE! Maybe on monday I'll have some. For now I'll settle for chatting random thoughts so that she may have a glimpse into my life. Maybe I can give her some...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - MANGO SHAKE can be symbolic of what I can give to her. I haven't found the right gift yet. I hope she can wait for it though, I don't know if I can give it to her just yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3000686219741675544?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3000686219741675544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3000686219741675544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3000686219741675544' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1306892640628892199</id><published>2008-07-26T08:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-26T08:49:19.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Denouement&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm okay now(I think). Got my life back in order(mostly it's just resting). Hanging out at the mall all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still wishing for the girl. I wanna go to where she is.  Hope I would  be allowed to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally have free time again. No more need to sleep late and sleep in class because of fatigue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I temporarily have no room. The room I'm sleeping in recently is gonna be used by Aunt. My old room's being used by my brother. My new room's being used by my parents (and all my stuff's in there). I'm like a squatter. Still undecided on where to sleep. Probably gonna sleep in the gaming room or outside in sala (There's air-conditioning!).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1306892640628892199?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1306892640628892199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1306892640628892199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1306892640628892199' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7176062660216199622</id><published>2008-07-25T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T08:13:30.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Frustration&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe everything that happened on thursday.&lt;br /&gt;Where do I start?&lt;br /&gt;I had to do my reflection essay in class which was due on that period.&lt;br /&gt;I thought I wouldn't be able to pass it.&lt;br /&gt;I even tried to do it the night before but it was just not possible at that time.&lt;br /&gt;I was really tired.&lt;br /&gt;Got home at 11pm due to cheerdance training (which did not go well. everybody was feeling down.)&lt;br /&gt;One of the things that got me down was my favorite squadmate was injured last week and she can't come.&lt;br /&gt;I really hope she gets better.&lt;br /&gt;Didn't bother to go to training today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lunch: the food (6pesos barbecue? OMG!) was good but the ambience was really shady (like the slums) .&lt;br /&gt;I thought hanging out with the most beautiful girl in school would cheer me up but I really had nothing much to say to her.&lt;br /&gt;"na-Torpe" ako.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that fruitless endeavor I decided to go hang out with a classmate of mine.&lt;br /&gt;It's fun hanging out with her and her friends.&lt;br /&gt;Her talkative personality really cheers me up.&lt;br /&gt;Helps me get through the day since I myself don't talk much nowadays.&lt;br /&gt;Last class for the day wasn't that bad.&lt;br /&gt;Enjoyed the activity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when things really took a turn for the worse.&lt;br /&gt;I had a choice of going to training or watch a play for one of my subjects.&lt;br /&gt;Since I was feeling tired and sick, I decided to just watch a play and go with my classmates.&lt;br /&gt;The way there had congested traffic and even had a closed road.&lt;br /&gt;I had to go around another way which made me miss almost half the play.&lt;br /&gt;I was generally feeling bad today.&lt;br /&gt;It must have been the weather.&lt;br /&gt;It had an ominous feel to it.&lt;br /&gt;The play itself wasn't bad.&lt;br /&gt;The songs were really good.&lt;br /&gt;What really bothered me was my clogged nose and me forgetting to take a piss.&lt;br /&gt;Had to endure that for about an hour (including the freezing air-conditioning in the theater).&lt;br /&gt;After the play was finished, we got out of the theater and had to run through the strong rain.&lt;br /&gt;Now bringing my classmates back to school was fun!&lt;br /&gt;Sang along to whatever I had on my Ipod.&lt;br /&gt;It's too bad they couldn't go with me on the ride home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you may have noticed, the rain was really strong.&lt;br /&gt;That means a very slippery road.&lt;br /&gt;Bad road conditions+my reckless driving=accident.&lt;br /&gt;I hit a car! Hit and run!&lt;br /&gt;I was scared okay? I'm so evil!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decided to avoid the main roads and even get a little lost on the way.&lt;br /&gt;Got home. I felt really sick (physically and mentally).&lt;br /&gt;Why don't I go to the doctor or something?&lt;br /&gt;Am I some kind of masochist?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did all this happen? I went to the chapel during the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;It must be because I forgot to pray for safety and good health.&lt;br /&gt;I won't forget anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7176062660216199622?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7176062660216199622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7176062660216199622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7176062660216199622' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7542930031154551350</id><published>2008-07-17T08:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T08:30:13.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Can I:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;play video games in class?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;be obsessed with one person but want to have relationships with other girls?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;want to sing but only talk sparingly?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;let her know I love her without even saying a word?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;have fun working or studying?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;live in dreams?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;dedicate my time and effort to one endeavor without my compromising my need to have variety?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7542930031154551350?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7542930031154551350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7542930031154551350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7542930031154551350' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-5447710087662113282</id><published>2008-07-02T22:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T22:45:01.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Spacing out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one rare moment, I wasn't doing anything. Now this would have been impossible because nowadays I've got no time to just waste. It was kind of refreshing to have that moment where you feel detached from the world. It's like everything becomes surreal and you realize that it's all just a facade. After that it was back to physical exertion. And more thinking. Even when I'm sleeping I'm worried about everything and my dreams become sources of frustration. Another kind of spacing out (which wasn't fun at all) was that I was trying hard not to sleep in class. Before I actually enjoyed doing it but now I actually have to listen to every little thing in class to pass my subjects. Does being stressed make you like that? You've got no more time to rest that eventually your body forces you to just take a break when you least expect it. I don't know if I even want to do the things I do anymore. All I wanted was happiness but why is there so much stuff in the way?  Why do I even bother with conforming to society just to be a part of this big lie? I think it would be easier if she were here to comfort me but that can't be. I have to do more waiting and just hope that a long-distance relationship will work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-5447710087662113282?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5447710087662113282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5447710087662113282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#5447710087662113282' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3782111193064583904</id><published>2008-06-28T08:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T08:52:33.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hypocritical:&lt;br /&gt;I want the easy way out but I sometimes force myself to work hard for something.&lt;br /&gt;I'm impatient but all I do is wait.&lt;br /&gt;I want to do everything but I keep on procrastinating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fickle love life so far:&lt;br /&gt;It all started with me wanting a girlfriend (must've been the hormones).&lt;br /&gt;When I did get one she wasn't the one I really wanted.&lt;br /&gt;No matter how hard I tried I couldn't pretend to love her anymore.&lt;br /&gt;After that I had a time that I was really infatuated to the point of futile obsession.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately there was too much keeping us apart.&lt;br /&gt;And besides, I preferred to not be with her and just dream about her.&lt;br /&gt;Eventually my dreams led to closure.&lt;br /&gt;I realized it wasn't going to work out.&lt;br /&gt;Everyday I see girls I like.&lt;br /&gt;I imagine what it would be like to be with one of them.&lt;br /&gt;But I try to distance myself enough not to get too involved.&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't sure if I was ready.&lt;br /&gt;But now I'm going to try something different.&lt;br /&gt;I once liked someone but someone got in the way.&lt;br /&gt;Now I have another chance and I'll give it my best shot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3782111193064583904?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3782111193064583904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3782111193064583904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3782111193064583904' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-8263904491107628489</id><published>2008-06-16T04:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T04:41:30.529-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Meja -I'm missing you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss your love, since you've been gone&lt;br /&gt;I find it hard to go on&lt;br /&gt;The summer sky don't mean a thing&lt;br /&gt;I thought I'd always be strong&lt;br /&gt;I got a feeling inside&lt;br /&gt;and it's making my heart cry, cause&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm missing you&lt;br /&gt;and it's making me blue, yeah&lt;br /&gt;I'm missing you&lt;br /&gt;but what can I do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Thousand miles away, from you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;So here I am, and everything's new &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I should be happy in love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;but all I know, I look deep in my eyes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I've never felt so alone &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and this feeling inside &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;it's making my heart cry, cause &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm missing you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and it's making me blue, yeah &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm missing you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;but what can I do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thousand miles away, from you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;So what's the meaning of this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;to be living like this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;it ain't no fun at all &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I wonder where are you now &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;(I wonder where are you now) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-8263904491107628489?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8263904491107628489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8263904491107628489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#8263904491107628489' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-8399034126396210246</id><published>2008-06-15T23:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T23:32:03.212-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>No more infatuation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel different. My main motivation is no longer some "dream girl" (although I'd prefer it to be that way).  Life feels more mundane. There's too much focus on the present and on materialism. I guess this is me being practical. It's definitely easier but it lacks the emotional impact that I've had before. That doesn't mean that I'm not happy, it's just that it feels so predictable and tiring. I guess I can't have everything. What am I saying anyway? I miss the thought of missing her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-8399034126396210246?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8399034126396210246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8399034126396210246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#8399034126396210246' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-8744353080534527280</id><published>2008-06-06T07:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T07:15:22.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>But wait, there's more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nintendo Wii! - Oh yeah!~&lt;br /&gt;Driving to school - Very tiring&lt;br /&gt;More Animo Squad training plus education/major subjects -  hard to manage the time&lt;br /&gt;Shaved my head - Must change personality too&lt;br /&gt;B-day coming up on June 10! - Lots of plans!&lt;br /&gt;Tying Shoelaces - cool hobby&lt;br /&gt;I'm into comic books nowadays (specifically about Wolverine) - got tired of reading novels&lt;br /&gt;To sum it all up - My life's on auto-pilot mode these days. All I have to do is do what I have to do and everything will be A-OK!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-8744353080534527280?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8744353080534527280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8744353080534527280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#8744353080534527280' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-5176457487879482043</id><published>2008-04-25T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T06:58:36.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Let's get physical&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has got to be the most physically demanding summer ever. Dance training monday to saturday has left me no time to think let alone fall in love. Too busy learning. There's no need to analyze life: only memorize skills &amp;amp; steps and train all day. It feels like I don't even have to worry about my emotional needs these days. Just my body to worry about.  Life's easier this way.  It's supposed to be physically demanding but I do so love the  challenge.  This is so awesome. This is just what I needed: something to make me better before I even consider myself being worthy or qualified to enter a relationship. Although it's all physical training there's still some underlying lessons to be learned from it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-5176457487879482043?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5176457487879482043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5176457487879482043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#5176457487879482043' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-361822556241245313</id><published>2008-04-18T04:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T04:39:41.701-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>nothing much to say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you talk about when you've got nothing to say? Especially if it's a date? Do you make up stories? Talk about randomness and the things around you? Or try to talk about your feelings? Yuck. Dating takes a lot. Specifically money and complete attention of your prospective date. I prefer to go out alone. It's much easier. No one but yourself to be mindful of. These days I prefer not having a girlfriend anymore. Maybe just friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Revelation/Obsession&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case anybody doesn't know, I'm very conscious of my dreams and their possible implications. They could possibly be future events, hidden insights or just utter nonsense. In the case of a recent dream, it's more of an epiphany. I finally understood what was wrong. The girl I (supposedly) like finally appears in a major role in m dreams this time. We meet at the mall, feel awkward, I confess my feelings, I try to make out (only gets more awkward), she accuses me of stalking her (even though she lives so far away and I'm too lazy to do that), and I finally accept the fact that she's not "The One." I even went to the same mall when I woke up and nothing happened (she wasn't there). The one who was there was my cousin and his girlfriend. Now I'm going to assume the lesson here is that... uhmmm... not be unecessarily infatuated with the wrong person? I think. Be more discerning in your chosen person of obsession. For example, Mandy Moore can be a good person to be obsessed with. You can pretend to understand her through her songs, watch her movies, and like her for just being herself. It's much more acceptable (I think) to be head over heels over some superstar than with someone you barely even know or remember being friends. Maybe in another life I could have been with her but maybe not this time. For now, I'll just look for more signs in my dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-361822556241245313?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/361822556241245313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/361822556241245313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#361822556241245313' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-6866944745972773949</id><published>2008-04-09T07:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T08:27:14.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Still a boy inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather's getting to me. Summer heat is frying my brain. I can't think. I'm feeling sick. I've got one day of classes/exams left and gotta make sure I don't mess it up. After that it's probably gonna be filled with all kinds of summer activities (dancing, archery, malling).  Looking forward to that but that's not troubling me now. I'm thinking of the future. Specifically, my 21st birthday. It'll probably the day I become an adult! For now, I'll make the most of just enjoying life. I swear that on that day, I'll be a completely mature and responsible person(after the party that is). No more bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was it anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've lost something. Can anybody help me find it? I think it's called "joie de vivre"? Or maybe it's Desire? I don't know exactly what it is but it's making me feel emptiness and angst inside of me. Smiling doesn't even work anymore. My optimism's been affected too. I'm not even looking forward to anything anymore. Maybe I'm just having a bad day or something. I hope it passes soon 'coz it's annoying the hell outta me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-6866944745972773949?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6866944745972773949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6866944745972773949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#6866944745972773949' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7213030342481188282</id><published>2008-03-17T08:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-17T08:56:43.108-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Honestly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can't replicate the past.&lt;br /&gt;Seeing through rose-tinted glasses.&lt;br /&gt;No words need to be spoken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doing some things alone is better in some cases.&lt;br /&gt;If you bring along other people it may dilute the experience.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you have to be mindful of your companions.&lt;br /&gt;Find friends who enhance the experience not ruin it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is being too complacent a bad thing?&lt;br /&gt;Will my life be better if I did more productive things?&lt;br /&gt;Can fulfillment always be equated with happiness? What about achievement?&lt;br /&gt;Do I even have priorities?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all search for the answers to life's questions.&lt;br /&gt;We never stop looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read from this book that hard work would not always result to success or a desired&lt;br /&gt;outcome. Sometimes the things we want would easily come to us. That's what I want.&lt;br /&gt;But that doesn't mean that I'll just sit idly by and watch the world pass me by.&lt;br /&gt;I still want to experience what life has to offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thrive in pressure but I prefer that it won't become a continuous struggle.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe if hard work was done only in short bursts it would be ok. Once things start&lt;br /&gt;to repeat itself it seems that it isn't worth doing anymore. But still I continue to&lt;br /&gt;do the same things over and over again. I always try to fool myself into thinking that I'm&lt;br /&gt;actually enjoying this but I'm actually not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nakakasawa na. Ayaw ko na.&lt;br /&gt;You can't fool yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;selfish&lt;br /&gt;Self-centered&lt;br /&gt;Spoiled&lt;br /&gt;Introvert&lt;br /&gt;Fickle&lt;br /&gt;Lazy&lt;br /&gt;Hypocritical&lt;br /&gt;Escapist attitude&lt;br /&gt;Indifferent&lt;br /&gt;Easy-go-lucky (what does this really mean anyway?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I have to change? Some people want to change everyone else but will that really&lt;br /&gt;make them happy or feel better about themselves? I prefer to let other people&lt;br /&gt;be themselves. If I don't like them because of it I necessarily don't have to make an&lt;br /&gt;effort to try to be their life coach or something. I can just leave them be by not&lt;br /&gt;minding them. Ignore their faults or ignore them completely. The only problem with this&lt;br /&gt;arrangement would be if that someone you don't like is close to you and you can't just&lt;br /&gt;leave them alone. They're so much a part of your life that it would be a problem if&lt;br /&gt;you just accept their faults that could possibly have a negative effect on your life.&lt;br /&gt;In short, they give you bad vibes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7213030342481188282?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7213030342481188282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7213030342481188282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7213030342481188282' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-4766417684331069930</id><published>2008-03-07T07:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T07:11:00.058-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What's up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More sleeping and dreaming.&lt;br /&gt;Trying to study while being preoccupied with having fun.&lt;br /&gt;So many books I have yet to finish. Read or die.&lt;br /&gt;Mandy Moore concert on March 12! Can't wait!&lt;br /&gt;Dyed my hair brown!&lt;br /&gt;Another obligatory father lecture about life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-4766417684331069930?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4766417684331069930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4766417684331069930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#4766417684331069930' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1264719301896892734</id><published>2008-02-27T03:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T03:41:18.537-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning&lt;br /&gt;By Haruki Murakami&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you're drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I'll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can't recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It's weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl," I tell someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah?" he says. "Good-looking?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not really."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Your favorite type, then?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Strange."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah. Strange."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nah. Just passed her on the street."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's walking east to west, and I west to east. It's a really nice April morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I'd really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After talking, we'd have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I approach her? What should I say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridiculous. I'd sound like an insurance salesman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, this is just as ridiculous. I'm not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who's going to buy a line like that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the simple truth would do. "Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, she wouldn't believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you're not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I'd probably go to pieces. I'd never recover from the shock. I'm thirty-two, and that's what growing older is all about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can't bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She's written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she's ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take a few more strides and turn: She's lost in the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, well. It would have started "Once upon a time" and ended "A sad story, don't you think?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is amazing," he said. "I've been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you're the 100% perfect girl for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And you," she said to him, "are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I'd pictured you in every detail. It's like a dream."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It's a miracle, a cosmic miracle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one's dreams to come true so easily?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, "Let's test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other's 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we'll marry then and there. What do you think?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," she said, "that is exactly what we should do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other's 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season's terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence's piggy bank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is the 100% perfect girl for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is the 100% perfect boy for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sad story, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, that's it, that is what I should have said to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Ideal girl should be a/have:&lt;br /&gt;Good singer or dancer&lt;br /&gt;Beautiful body&lt;br /&gt;Stunning hair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone like me would be:&lt;br /&gt;Gemini&lt;br /&gt;Likes to sing and dance&lt;br /&gt;Hyperactive&lt;br /&gt;Emotional&lt;br /&gt;Avid Gamer&lt;br /&gt;Likes Anime&lt;br /&gt;Reads novels I like&lt;br /&gt;Likes the music I listen to&lt;br /&gt;Dreamer&lt;br /&gt;Has lots of free time&lt;br /&gt;Lives for the moment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is seeing Patty smile.&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is reading a beautiful novel or watching.&lt;br /&gt;something insightful.&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is being all emotional about this girl I like.&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is thoughts of infatuation.&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is dreaming.&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is hanging out.&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is escaping from the pressures of the real world through various means.&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is when people acknowledge my presence&lt;br /&gt;especially through compliments no matter how shallow they&lt;br /&gt;may sound.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1264719301896892734?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1264719301896892734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1264719301896892734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1264719301896892734' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-5207756995287238180</id><published>2008-02-27T02:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T03:10:35.015-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Keeping up to date&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, valentine's day wasn't any fun... I should have asked other people to go with me but I was too depressed going out alone to bother(at least I got me some money to spend on myself!). Went all emotional and listened to loves songs driving home (how pathetic). But it somehow feels good in a masochistic kind of way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More playtime&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to my cousin's b-day and as always I had the chance to show off my Dance Maniax freestyling. This is something I've always enjoyed doing and I can't have a week without it. I even went to the malls for three straight days just to play it(addicted!). Maybe sometime I'll try another rhythm game (PUMP IT UP NX - some kind of DDR clone with diagonal arrows and a center pad) just to find other ways to show off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are classmates you hang out/eat with considered your friends? Or do you have to be with them outside school hours and actually get to know them more than is necessary? Maybe get more personal with them? It's kinda okay doing that but I want to get closer with them and not just bribe them with food and gifts to be their friends. I guess I really am more of an introvert. Maybe it's better if I just hang out with one person more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long Distance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is this girl I "like". By like I mean I don't know what she is to me but I have some sort of attraction to her. Maybe it's the usual unrequited love that I always read and hear about. I haven't seen or heard from her in awhile but things have (kinda) changed. Through some twist of fate I got to call her. Turns out she's now studying in Cebu. Busy as hell (as always) unlike me who seemingly has all the free time in the world. Why is life this way? The one person I really want to be with always seems so unavailable. But the more I think about it, The more it seems that she's so different from me. Although it seems we like the same things (maybe), I can never get to talk to her properly the way I do with someone else.  Am I just shy  or there's just nothing between us? The one time it felt like we were really talking was at my high school graduation ball and that was so long ago.  I don't know  how she feels about me now and that's what's really bothering me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-5207756995287238180?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5207756995287238180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5207756995287238180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#5207756995287238180' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7431494592655190594</id><published>2008-02-11T06:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T06:22:32.851-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I called.&lt;br /&gt;She wasn't there.&lt;br /&gt;What now?&lt;br /&gt;Call at another time?&lt;br /&gt;What to do, what to do...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7431494592655190594?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7431494592655190594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7431494592655190594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7431494592655190594' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7628509045503191802</id><published>2008-02-11T05:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T06:09:30.040-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no more close friends, only the superficial illusion of having classmates as friends. No one left to share my deepest thoughts and feelings. I miss those seemingly perfect moments I had when I was just hanging out with this girl I like. Now all I've got is video games to keep me distracted. I try to be friends with other people but I'm too introverted to do that.  I prefer to just hang out without worrying about  what the other  person is thinking.  Enjoying her company is enough for me but  unfortunately I'm too complacent to do anything beyond wishful thinking. Or maybe not, I'll try calling her. (This is it. No backing down.) I miss her too much to not do anything anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7628509045503191802?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7628509045503191802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7628509045503191802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7628509045503191802' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7481803069604717861</id><published>2008-01-15T06:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T07:33:52.413-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Priorities&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It goes without saying that my  main priority in daily activities is...  Getting all emotional about someone in particular.  But nowadays,  all I've been doing is play video games. Supposing that I was a responsible person (which I'm not), I'd be studying right now or doing schoolwork.  It doesn't either that I'm sleeping  late  ever single day (at least beyond 1am). Is this kind of lifestyle bad? And is it normal? Whatever normal is, it's certainly not what I'm doing have right now. Now matter how stressfully monotonous the things I do are, it's definitely something that everyone is used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreaming again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Due to late/erratic sleeping habits, I have the tendency to sleep late in the afternoon. So? Well... I dreamt of playing some super-improved future generation Guitar Hero! And this definitely made my day! It seems dreaming about these kinds of things is better than the real thing. The seemingly impossible happens in dreams and it's in them that I get to fantasize about whatever. Another dream I had involved having sexual intercourse with someone. Just dreaming about it made me regret it. It seems I have a conscience after all.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recommend that you read 253 or just commute for fun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Due to unforeseen circumstances, I have to commute home. Commuting is fun but very exhausting! Staying inside a jam-packed train makes me feel like I've been robbed of my soul. But it's still fun to see all kinds of people. A book I'm reading (253) made realize the joys of watching unknown people. If you have the perseverance and free time to do whatever you want, You should definitely try observing commuters. Try to imagine what they're thinking and what they do for a living. Who knows, maybe they're thinking about you! Utterly creepy if you think about it but may be enjoying if that commuter was good-looking and preferably looking at you suggestively. Maybe it would be nice if you could see more beautiful people riding the train/bus/jeep but that's rarely the case. Most of what I see are assorted worker types and students. What if you could read their minds? Now that would definitely be interesting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zombies are cool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watched "I am Legend" last Sunday. I thought that it would be some kind of alien anvasion but it was a ZOMBIE movie! Oh yeah! Everything about it was great except the typical Hollywood tendency to change the ending to make it more pleasible. The real ending was supposed to be that there were no more humans left, only zombie/vampire people left. The title itself was not appropriate. It should have been "I am Martyr" or something to that effect. This movie makes me wanna read zombie novels and play zombie shooting video games. Me likey! BLOOD!!! BRAIN!!!  NYAM NYAM!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7481803069604717861?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7481803069604717861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7481803069604717861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7481803069604717861' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-8996857215322588048</id><published>2008-01-07T08:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T08:44:44.092-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Return to Infatuation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that having a girlfriend would finally help me get rid of infatuation but it only takes a single event, no matter how far-fetched it may seem, to bring me back to my sweet suffering. Who would have thought that someone new can remind me so much of her? Somehow I see her in that person. I don't know if this is a good thing or not but it certainly helps in my studies. How? She's my teacher! But she's not just some teacher. She's a fresh graduate and the same age as me! Awkward... OF course that doesn't mean that I'll be having a relationship with her or anything. I'm content to daydream and imagine that it's her in front of the class.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-8996857215322588048?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8996857215322588048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8996857215322588048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#8996857215322588048' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-2873653780875191604</id><published>2008-01-02T05:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T05:54:07.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I should be living in another time zone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of that drinking session with Rigby, I've been sleeping at 4 or 5 am. And I get to see the sun before I sleep and eat breakfast too! But how is that even possible? It's all because of gaming addiction. Playing so many addictive games all at once can make you a zombie/vampire. Besides, I don't do much during morning time. This could be bad if the holiday's are over. I'll have classes at 8am so gotta adjust before then. In the meantime, you may not be hearing from me for a while. I'm too absorbed playing whatever. See me when there's classes(that's next monday).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-2873653780875191604?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2873653780875191604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2873653780875191604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#2873653780875191604' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3352227736207086917</id><published>2007-12-24T20:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T20:43:49.681-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>MERRY CHRISTMAS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overload&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something's wrong with my internet connection at home(apparently, I turned off the switch to the wi-fi) so I'm just gonna post a lot of stuff today to make up for lost time. It's like a part of me is dying(mostly the lazy part) and I have to make up for it by doing something more active besides surfing the net. It's hard to do 'coz it'sthe holidays and being lazy is what it's all about for me (and maybe getting stuff for free). My mind's telling me to go out more but my body is making me stay put at home. I usually spend my holidaysgetting addicted with some video game but it'll have to wait because I still haven't chosen the perfect game. I need something to waste my time on. I can spend about 200-300 hours just playing a single game. But what am I to do now that I have a ton of games to play?!? I can't possibly finish playing them all during the christmas break. Life's easier that way although that's not exactly gonna get me anywhere. But it's time spent happily and that's all that matters. Play hard!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memories&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went out with some "friends" recently. But specifically my dear friend Rigby and her friends&lt;br /&gt;(that I've met for the first time). It's just the usual drinking session I have seasonally and&lt;br /&gt;as usual something bad usually happens when I go. At the very least I go home early&lt;br /&gt;(in the morning) but this time was much more exciting. As I was on my way to the place I&lt;br /&gt;was feeling very nostalgic about every place that I see on the road. It's as if everything&lt;br /&gt;interesting that's ever happened to me in those places came in a surge of flashbacks. But that&lt;br /&gt;was just a teaser for the real event! After Rigby's friends got drunk they got into a fight&lt;br /&gt;and got arrested! We had to wait in front of the police station until the sun came up. That's right,&lt;br /&gt;no sleep. Jolibee saved Rigby and me from being too involved in the fight. We got down from&lt;br /&gt;the resto just as things were heating up between the guys. After eating (spaghetti and Ice tea)&lt;br /&gt;we ran back to the place and find them in a commotion. After the commotion died down a little it&lt;br /&gt;felt like it was finally over. But no, alcohol takes over and the guys fight downstairs. After that&lt;br /&gt;whole ordeal I slept the whole day. Definitely one of the best experiences I've had in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Siblings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now to more pressing family matters. It seems that my brother is still mad at me. Backstabbing him? And it's rooted in playing some video game? How stupid. He wants get back at me by punching me? How very counter-intuitive. If he wants to really have a better relationship with me he should be the one asking for my forgiveness for treating me badly every chance he gets. As if we'll get along. Maybe someday. I thought that I'd forgiven him a long time ago but it's just unconditional love after all. He's my brother so I can't be mad at him all the time. I've got better things to dwell about (infatuation). Although I loathe his very existence I have to cohabitate with that person. Why am I scared of him anyway? And why am I dwelling on this so much anyway? It's definitely the childhood trauma caused by him. I don't need this. I hope he becomes a better person (somewhere far away). I prefer that he stays abroad like my sisters. I miss my little sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Money&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once had a million pesos(in 1,000 peso bills) in my pockets. What did I do with it? Nothing much, my dad just let me hold it for a while. But what if I could spend it all in one day? What would I buy? A million isn't worth much(if you're planning to buy a house or a car) but you can definitely buy a lot with it. New wardrobe, all the new gaming consoles, Super! cellphone, a ton of candy, collegetuition, etc... But can it buy me happiness? Definitely but only temporary. What about love? Well, not exactly. You have to know what you need to buy for that person. And you have to make sure that she'll worship you for giving that gift. Otherwise you're better off spending it all on yourself. After all, "learning to love yourself is the greatest gift of all." LOL! How corny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waning emotions caused by an indefinitely lasting static condition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does that mean? It means that I'm getting tired of nothing happening between me and that girl. The closest thing that I've gotten to her lately is in my dreams and even though it was like those perfect moments it wasn't real. So what? Just because it hasn't happened in real life it doesn't mean that it won't happen. Maybe someday we'll go to the rainforest/waterfall/playground hideaway and have the time of our lives there. For now I'm languishing in my excruciatingly masochistic unrequited love. My feelings for her is my bittersweet treasure and I can't just throw it away. It's my reason for living.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3352227736207086917?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3352227736207086917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3352227736207086917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3352227736207086917' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3636603430097720035</id><published>2007-12-17T07:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T07:26:11.187-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Doing nothing has a deeper meaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No more school means no more worries but what am I supposed to do? It feels like days are just passing by with me doing random stuff like going to a party and not socializing just to occupy the time. Other random but typical things I do nowadays include biking in the afternoon(it's very hot and challenging), Hanging out at the mall(SM Centerpoint and Robinsons Galleria) and playing video games(yay my very own NDS!). This all seems fun and entertaining but it gets boring after the millionth time. There are moments where I feel like it's the best but these days I long for my usual pastime: infatuating over some girl. I don't have the opportunity to have a decent conversation with her but hopefully we'll have one of those fateful encounters again. It's possible. Maybe after four months I'll get to see her again. Preferably a date! For now I'm gonna stick to doing "wala lang."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3636603430097720035?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3636603430097720035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3636603430097720035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3636603430097720035' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-1032062748157905467</id><published>2007-12-09T20:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T20:56:59.163-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Crying for Escape&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After what seemed liked an eternity of nothingness, something finally happened. Unfortunately for me it involves me getting punched in the head(twice) by my brother. Why you ask? I really don't know. It seems I've backstabbed him(daw). But how can that be possible? I've been in my room all this time just waiting for time to pass. After that incident, it finally all came out (the unspoken miseries inside in me that I refused to acknowledge). I have no family (physically, they are absent: parents and sisters abroad and brother unavailable). It's like I'm trapped in my room with nothing fulfilling to do. The usual machinations of living has sucked the happiness and drive out of me. Even my obsession with some girl has been waning. I've lost that loving feeling. But this is not the time to despair for there is something that will save/distract me: Souvenirs/Pasalubong!!! Jolly Rancher Candy, Beef Jerky, and NINTENDO DS LITE!!! Time for more mind numbing gaming addiction fun! Christmas vacation is here and now is the time to forget these trivialities of life and start anew(preparing new year's resolutions).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-1032062748157905467?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1032062748157905467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/1032062748157905467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#1032062748157905467' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-8772662258580010002</id><published>2007-11-24T03:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T03:36:12.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Redundancy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that nothing ever changes. I keep talking about the same things over and over again and everything feels so predictable. Too much fiction can do that. You realize so much in life that it becomes so repetitive. Even if I try to find something different I still have to go through the same things everyone has done before. Yet still I keep on living. Although I think I know it all, I still haven't experienced life to the fullest. I crave for more.  I'm still waiting for my dreams to come true (no matter how impossible, ridiculous, optimistic and random they may seem to be).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-8772662258580010002?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8772662258580010002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8772662258580010002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#8772662258580010002' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-8076415313604450181</id><published>2007-11-22T05:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T05:48:26.486-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A Purpose-driven life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would it be okay (for my parents) if I dropped out of college and learned to be masseur? Or maybe I could take my archery training seriously hopefully go to the Olympics next year? Musician? Singer? Dancer? Writer? Ahhh.... If only I could. But unfortunately I have to endure more studying. It doesn't even help that I procrastinate. Why can't I follow my dreams anyway? Am I too complacent to achieve a fulfilling and enjoying life beyond what is taught in college or too lazy to strive for academic excellence now? I think both. I've even lost any motivation to do better. The only thing keeping me from being a Hikikomori(social recluse) is a tinge of responsibility, a little bit of duty, and a whole lot of material things to keep me occupied. I should be studying right now but my mind is blocked. It's like I've lost most of my critical thinking skills and have recently relied only on instinct. Even if I'm reading books all the time (for leisure) My mind is not being used to its full potential. Heck, I haven't even thought about that girl seriously in a while (although that too would be too much for me too handle).  Karlo's thought processes: eat, read, exercise, sleep, play games. Living so simply but society is making things hard for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-8076415313604450181?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8076415313604450181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8076415313604450181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#8076415313604450181' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-4447674579774314017</id><published>2007-11-16T02:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T02:55:07.882-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Food trip!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Rz10TbERESI/AAAAAAAAAAU/wUJzqLApuco/s1600-h/wedding+dessert.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Rz10TbERESI/AAAAAAAAAAU/wUJzqLApuco/s320/wedding+dessert.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133387027304223010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;If I ever get married, I'd want one of these things over here^^^.  Fancy Dessert Stuff!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Rz11CbEREUI/AAAAAAAAAAk/AiLJkqJB73g/s1600-h/burgermeal.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Rz11CbEREUI/AAAAAAAAAAk/AiLJkqJB73g/s320/burgermeal.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133387834758074690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chelsea's Serendra:  best ambiance yet(That means expensive. 350++ for this thing over here^^^). But totally worth it! If you're ever going to Serendra, sama ako! Eat at Chelsea's then hang out in Fully Booked Central! My treat! Oh yeah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Rz11-LEREVI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Qtvzkve2QVk/s1600-h/cinnamonroll.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Rz11-LEREVI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Qtvzkve2QVk/s320/cinnamonroll.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133388861255258450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a cinnamon roll from Starbucks. It doesn't matter what it looks like, what matters is that it's delicious!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-4447674579774314017?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4447674579774314017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/4447674579774314017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#4447674579774314017' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/Rz10TbERESI/AAAAAAAAAAU/wUJzqLApuco/s72-c/wedding+dessert.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-8890575408819775613</id><published>2007-11-15T07:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T07:50:09.205-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Addiction&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realized something. I've been sleeping late like 3am every night. Why? Kasi naman I sleep in the afternoon. Is this bad? Not necessarily... If you borrow your cousin's Nintendo DS Lite and play all day and night then it's definitely BAD! I even skipped a day of school just to play it. EVIL!!! Must. Play. Note to self: If I want to waste time happily but unproductively, buy one of those neo-gameboy thingies. If not, go back to boring things like assignment and concentrate on those first(what a drag). I should join some kind of support group(does that even exist here in the Philippines?). Something like: Procrastinating hopeless romantic anime freak addict gamers anonymous (or PHRAFAGA for short). I should start making that if it doesn't exist. Maybe I'll even find new friends along the way! Will there be anyone interested in joining? Just post on the shout-out box for inquiries, or call/message me. Help the cause!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-8890575408819775613?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8890575408819775613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8890575408819775613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#8890575408819775613' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-8348360185710938855</id><published>2007-11-09T23:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T23:15:39.438-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Don't waver, have faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this lack of communication between us imposed by some unknown force a test? Is she busy? Does she not want to see me anymore? Am I not good enough for her? Is it not the right time? Must I remain in this state indefinitely? What if she's not interested? All these doubts are definitely bothering me; they're enough to drive me into frustration. I know I'm just being optimistic for wanting something I can't have right now but is it too much to ask? All I need are more opportunities (although I've blown quite a few) or maybe just a change in personality. Everytime I get the chance, I always do it half-heartedly. I did a little something with her (which feels so insignificant) when I could've done better. I know it's the little things that count but I guess those aren't enough anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, back to day to day college life talk. As predicted, almost everyone noticed my hair. What's the big deal? It's just hair (although I myself am obssessed with it). Deep inside, I take pleasure in people noticing anything about me. I think it's a pretty drastic makeover on my part and a very easy way for attract attention. From very long hair back to short curly hair. Gone are&lt;br /&gt;the dreams of getting dreadlocks and living rasta in some caribbean beachside bungalow. "Why did you cut your hair? Sayang..." Asked some people. Why? I gave the lame excuse of being depressed (as if I'll be like that). Or am I? Am I pretending to be happy or pretending to be depressed? Maybe both (typical gemini). That's just me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-8348360185710938855?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8348360185710938855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/8348360185710938855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#8348360185710938855' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-5094459584525956071</id><published>2007-11-09T04:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T05:26:00.057-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/RzRcd1qNsSI/AAAAAAAAAAM/4H8cvqBTzwU/s1600-h/karo-0088quarter.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/RzRcd1qNsSI/AAAAAAAAAAM/4H8cvqBTzwU/s320/karo-0088quarter.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130827543171936546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Typical&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my room. As you can see, I eat, read, play card games, listen to music, surf the net, dream, think about the girl, and obviously sleep on my bed(sometimes all at the same time!). Do other people do this on their own beds? Do you? Is it weird? For me, it's more convenient and efficient (or just lazy) than doing all these things elsewhere. That's it. Just wanted to show the world(and hopefully she'll also see) what I usually do at home.  A typical(monotonous, mind-numbing, solitary) day in the life of a hopeless  romantic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-5094459584525956071?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5094459584525956071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/5094459584525956071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#5094459584525956071' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/RzRcd1qNsSI/AAAAAAAAAAM/4H8cvqBTzwU/s72-c/karo-0088quarter.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-2120874189326834367</id><published>2007-11-03T18:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-03T19:20:49.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Losing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've lost my will to live. Everything I do feels so mechanical. Even if I do something that's probably enjoyable, it doesn't last. I miss does days of just being infatuated with that girl. It made life so simple 'coz all I thought about those days was only her. Now she's out of sight and out of mind. It's like she doesn't exist anymore. If she does exist, it'll probably take some time before anything significant happens between the two of us. How weird it is to be in this phase of my life that feels like limbo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now what else am I losing anyway? my hair! gah! Had a haircut last friday and i'm still getting used to having short hair again. Was there some underlying reason for this drastic change? Just frustration. at everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-2120874189326834367?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2120874189326834367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2120874189326834367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#2120874189326834367' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-3858625640957556173</id><published>2007-10-28T09:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T07:05:23.667-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>After 20 years of reading books, watching movies, and living life I finally realized something: Sad endings are better than happy endings. Happy endings are usually feel-good and doesn't really have that much impact compared to  a tragic ending. People lose, get their hearts broken, feel pain and loneliness, and eventually DIE! Hahaha... Is that supposed to be funny? Tragedy leads to maturity, so that means, "everybody hurts, sometimes..." And besides, happy endings are too predictable. That's why it's better for me (in some sick, twisted way) to stay infatuated/unrequited/detached rather than be in a real relationship with that girl. It's so dramatic/emo-wannabe of me. And that's what makes it feel so much right. I'm too self-absorbed to really be in a relationship. The last time we met, I felt so distant(mostly because of awkwardness/spineless me). If you're with someone(like on a date), isn't it obvious that what you feel inside at that time determines what you really want from that other person? If so, it's safe to assume that I'm not really interested in her(what?!?). It's more of her becoming a real manifestation of an ideal which I would be trying to fit into who would be perfect for me. I guess it all started when I first saw her. It was like something clicked in my head and said to me: we're meant for each other. She completes me(and other cliches like that). Whew! Too much on my mind a... Sidetrack! I feel like a stalker. Question. If you find someone's blog thing and read it, does that make you a stalker? If not, will that sound creepy to that someone if you read it? Or will (she) finally realize all the things I wanted to say and she will eventually reciprocate and tell me that she feels the same way too! Awwwww..... ? Wishful thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It never ends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-3858625640957556173?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3858625640957556173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/3858625640957556173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#3858625640957556173' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-6875874125124690123</id><published>2007-10-24T04:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T05:04:28.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Floating&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nowadays, my dreams are more interesting than real life. Although it doesn't really happen (unlike memories) it makes it up in plot development. For example, most of my dreams have common elements: Some girl I'm trying to make-out with, me jump-floating, and the crowds not caring whatever it is I'm doing. Nice, right? In contrast to the real world, it feels like I'm not doing enough. I've got lots to study and schoolwork to finish but I'm still procrastinating. Does cramming make things more exciting or do I just need a little push to get me motivate? Doesn't matter. I've got more important things on my mind, like the "Future." Yuck... I hate to say it but eventually I have to be more responsible; work hard, study hard, plan my path, shit like that. That sucks. All that thinking makes me feel so worthless 'coz I'm not doing things that will benefit me in the long term right now. Complacency? Is that the word for me? Despair? nevermind...&lt;br /&gt;Change topic! Got to drive alone last saturday! Unfortunately my ride sucks. And no date. But still felt good! Finally some sense of freedom! Kinda like jump-floating. No making out with some girl but still alright.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-6875874125124690123?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6875874125124690123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/6875874125124690123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#6875874125124690123' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-99276756242361172</id><published>2007-10-07T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T08:25:15.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Waiting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of this moment, I have nothing. These things I have and the things I'm doing now don't really matter. All I've got going for me is a pleasant distraction from reality. For example, listening to " Lala - Waitin', " watching  movies like "The Lake House," and the typical dreaming of this girl. You know where this is going? Of course, It's always about her. I can pretend that it's ok but it's not. I feel so... Helpless. Hollow. Useless. But mostly lovesick. I think.   And that's enough to keep me waiting, hoping and wishing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-99276756242361172?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/99276756242361172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/99276756242361172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#99276756242361172' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-7758458420311536605</id><published>2007-09-30T05:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T05:41:58.727-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fighting temptation and gaining a sense of greater responsibility&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I waste half of my college life waiting for that girl? Is it my fault that I can't  just, "Poof!", forget about her? Is she even better than the other girls I meet in college? How long must I possibly wait? How much more can I take before I break down? Is it  even worth it? I need practice. Or somebody else. Or just wait some more. It's too bad I'm too much of a wuss to do something. Or am I?&lt;br /&gt;Flirting to the point of just being annoying just doesn't help. I hate this unconscious impulse to do what my personality wants. It may just be a way to protect myself from doing something stupid.  I feel like a robot. I can't really be responsible for my actions because I give in easily to go with the easy way out. For example, I can't do schoolwork diligently and in addition to that I've succumbed to a routine way of life. Pretending that I will eventually change is simply procrastination.  &lt;br /&gt;The Lasallian retreat a while ago didn't really help. Like dreaming, it's just another reason to escape reality. Life's not all about fun and games 'coz too much of that makes me feel worthless (although there is a little "happiness"). Hedonism is evil and I'm its victim. The burden is growing and I need me to do something right now. It's too bad I need one of those life changing experiences and those don't come by too often. Now how do I go about my life now? I currently have no real purpose. Maybe I do have some (although feeling a little superficial) like getting rich, find love,  be happy, etc...  These goals or whatever  feel too much like conventions of living that it's feels practically not worth it to achieve. Being spoiled doesn't help either. Maybe in another life it'll be different. But it's not all that bad. There are moments that make life worth living but those only happen once. I need more of those. I just gotta make myself better in between those moments.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-7758458420311536605?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7758458420311536605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/7758458420311536605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#7758458420311536605' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24601015.post-2526672213992319311</id><published>2007-09-26T06:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T06:26:36.605-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's just one of those days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling generally bad today. It's a good thing consolation came when I got to spend time with someone I would probably have intimate relations with (or at the very least, see in my dreams). Just seeing her makes me happy even if only for that moment. Ahhhh... Memories of sweet nothings('coz nothing really happened between us). Gotta make a move!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24601015-2526672213992319311?l=chobedear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2526672213992319311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24601015/posts/default/2526672213992319311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chobedear.blogspot.com/index.html#2526672213992319311' title=''/><author><name>karlo cruz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287278451843446035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qhEPOmdHzRw/SK1TyRxXOdI/AAAAAAAAABY/fwDNrzYCZ6k/S220/DSC00169.JPG'/></author></entry></feed>
