<?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-15885241</id><updated>2011-04-22T07:59:10.471+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the green crayon</title><subtitle type='html'>the green crayon's sketchpad</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>60</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-3827264018521376668</id><published>2006-12-31T12:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-31T13:03:31.014+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>nakakatamad magpost eh... medyo mas buhay pa siguro yung isa kong blog. yung &lt;a href="http://oilpastels.livejournal.com"&gt;oilpastels.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;magpapaputok kami mamaya tapos magsusuot kami ng skirt nung best friend ko. bwahaha. freaky, ako nakaskirt. :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sige happy new year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-3827264018521376668?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/3827264018521376668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=3827264018521376668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/3827264018521376668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/3827264018521376668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/12/nakakatamad-magpost-eh.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-116444423959204409</id><published>2006-11-25T16:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-25T16:44:00.136+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>tagal ko nang di nagpopost!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just last last week, during the week of paskorus, tricia told me that she wouldn't talk to adelfa for a while, leaving me speechless and not even knowing why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just this monday, i tried greeting her but she didn't respond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it took me four days till i mustered enough courage to greet her. yesterday, i waved at her and this time, she responded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that was one of the happiest moments in my junior year so far although i still don't know why she doesn't want to go back to our table, i'm still happy i could talk to her again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cheap nung post ko no? sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-116444423959204409?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/116444423959204409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=116444423959204409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/116444423959204409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/116444423959204409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/11/tagal-ko-nang-di-nagpopost-just-last.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115958039790447272</id><published>2006-09-30T09:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-30T09:39:57.913+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>oi oi oi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;may pictures ako ng pisay pagkatapos bagyuhin ng milenyo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ipopost ko dapat dito kaso ayaw maupload e, sobrang tagal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pero baka mapost ko nga siya kung matiyaga ako.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;saka ang alam ko rin, gusto ipos ni &lt;a href="http://clarizaaaaaaa.blogspot.com/"&gt;clariza&lt;/a&gt;, at ni &lt;a href="http://babbababa.blogspot.com/"&gt;bab&lt;/a&gt; yung pictures na nakuha rin nila.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sige, wala lang, ewan. may kuryente dito samin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;download muna ako ng naruto churva. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115958039790447272?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115958039790447272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115958039790447272' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115958039790447272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115958039790447272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/09/oi-oi-oi-may-pictures-ako-ng-pisay.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115936145413727650</id><published>2006-09-27T20:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-27T20:50:54.150+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>sir bingcang... bakit kayo ganyan?! ang hirap magpost... bleh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anywho!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WALANG PASOK BUKAS!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after ten years... lumipas na rin ang sampung taon!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;si sir bingcang... alam niyo ba...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40 year old virgin... nyarknyarknyarknyark!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;buruguduystunstugudunstuy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;langhiya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;khangkhungkhernitz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;labo-ness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gulong itlog gulong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bigotilyo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;halina sa parokya&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;inuman sessions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vol. 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vol. 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wala na baliw na...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cute mo beb. kamusta naman kayo ni jonathan torre?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115936145413727650?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115936145413727650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115936145413727650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115936145413727650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115936145413727650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/09/sir-bingcang.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115901175202169724</id><published>2006-09-23T19:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-23T19:42:32.030+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>whoOo! post uli.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blarj! ayoko na! ewan! ah... ang saya! hala ano? di ko rin gets sarili ko eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel depressed and enlightened at the same time. that's why i feel the need to create a secret blog where i could write about everything. i know it's weird, i mean, what's the purpose of this blog if i don't write everything i feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but there's a difference, with a secret blog, almost no one can see it and tell me what they think about it. with this blog, i'm overexposed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blah!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115901175202169724?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115901175202169724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115901175202169724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115901175202169724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115901175202169724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/09/whooo-post-uli.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115862961801788020</id><published>2006-09-19T09:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T09:33:38.026+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>lagi namang ganito eh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kung hindi ako makapagpost tuwing weekend, sa com sci ako nagpopost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;di na rin ako masyadong nakakaupdate kasi wala naman halos nangyayari sakin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;basta nung saturday, nagkaroon ako ng bagong salamin. 250 na grado ng parehong mata ko. malapit na ako mabulag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;basta sobrang bad trip ako ngayon kasi feeling ko ako nakasira ng relationship nilang dalawa. ayoko na nga makialam eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;basta, takte ang sad. pero ayoko pang mamatay, kelangan ko pa ng maraming oras para ayusin buhay ko atmga buhay na nasira ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pero, sana huminto muna yung mga bumabarandang problema sakin, sandali lang...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115862961801788020?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115862961801788020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115862961801788020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115862961801788020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115862961801788020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/09/lagi-namang-ganito-eh.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115838972251751702</id><published>2006-09-16T14:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-16T14:55:22.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/972/1487/1600/mybelovedones.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/972/1487/320/mybelovedones.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kakabasa ko lang nung post ni &lt;a href="http://anong_meron.livejournal.com"&gt;chan chan&lt;/a&gt; sa blog niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nakakalungkot...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pero di ako naniniwala dun sa sinabi niya na, &lt;blockquote&gt; i would never experience things, "the adelfa way", again....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;di yan totoo diba?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bonded pa rin ang adelfa ngayon. magpapatalo ba tayo sa sampa na mukhang mas bonded pa sa atin? hindi. dapat mapantayan rin natin ang levelings nila.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;miss ko na kayo adelfa...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115838972251751702?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115838972251751702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115838972251751702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115838972251751702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115838972251751702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/09/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115828412653184866</id><published>2006-09-15T09:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T09:35:26.543+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>takas sa com sci.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sir bingcang may tanong ako... binabasa niyo po ba yung post? bakit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ay mali, tanongs pala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wala na uli akong masabi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;birthday ni jomo kahapon, hinampas ko siya sa balikat. yun lang ba... o.O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;grRr...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wala na akong pakialam sa kanya... di ko na nga alam kung bakit ko siya naging crush eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hindi si jomo ah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bleh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;matatapos na ang ten days ng pag inom ko ng drugs... este gamot pala...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wala akong gana. tatlong oras lang tulog ko, di pa ako nakasinghot ng MJ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;joke. pweh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE END&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115828412653184866?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115828412653184866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115828412653184866' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115828412653184866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115828412653184866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/09/takas-sa-com-sci.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115802435472529824</id><published>2006-09-12T09:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T09:25:54.736+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>HAPPY BIRTHDAY EDDIE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;greet niyo yan ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bleh. asa com sci lab na naman ako ngayon...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kinikilig ba ko? ewan... minsan di ko na nga alam kung bakit ako kikiligin o kung kanino ako kikiligin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bwargsh!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pink polkadots...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dot.dot.dot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sige. happy birthday uli eddie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;labyu pakiss! :*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115802435472529824?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115802435472529824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115802435472529824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115802435472529824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115802435472529824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/09/happy-birthday-eddie-greet-niyo-yan-ha.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115787792119449152</id><published>2006-09-10T16:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T09:26:15.283+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i'm sick. but i'm not seriously ill. i just have some pus lining my tonsils, or tonsilitis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i didn't think it'd be that serious. i even have to take antibiotics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;right now, i'm soOo bored. well, not really but i'm feeling soOo lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;soup...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and my sister has a new phone too. a samsung phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my youngest sister keeps bugging me what kind of phone i want if ever i get a new phone. i really don't care much about phones. actually, i was happy with my old motorola phone, the one that i lost. i love it because it has a lot of games stored in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blaAah... i'm bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ciao!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115787792119449152?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115787792119449152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115787792119449152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115787792119449152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115787792119449152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/09/im-sick.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115779939753127829</id><published>2006-09-09T18:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-09T18:56:37.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>bago na layout ko. haha pink. cute ba. dinampot ko lang yan somewhere out there. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115779939753127829?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115779939753127829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115779939753127829' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115779939753127829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115779939753127829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/09/bago-na-layout-ko.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115689836824580310</id><published>2006-08-30T08:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T08:39:28.246+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>na adik nga rin pala ako sa &lt;b&gt;J pop&lt;/b&gt; at &lt;u&gt;anime&lt;/u&gt; dahil kila claridge at karen. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;steEeg...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmm... tapos asteEeg rin kalaro ng volleyball ang sodium pero siyempre mahal ko pa rin &lt;b&gt;ADELFA&lt;/b&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bleh. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115689836824580310?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115689836824580310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115689836824580310' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115689836824580310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115689836824580310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/08/na-adik-nga-rin-pala-ako-sa-j-pop-at.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115689825567986837</id><published>2006-08-30T08:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T08:37:35.693+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>lyrics ng song na gusto ko na hindi ko maintindihan...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kona ni moto wa kune futari wa keteshimatte&lt;br /&gt;ano koru no, kosa nai kimi no hohoemi ni mo kaere nai ne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;imi ga warau sekai ga suki te (kimi ga warau ko hoeru rosoka ni)&lt;br /&gt;soba ni tai sore dake, o suredake ta itami wo ume ni&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time goes by toki no nagare wa&lt;br /&gt;futari wo kaete yuku karetou&lt;br /&gt;nagushita mono mo yume miru mono mo&lt;br /&gt;sono d/te wo totte omoi tatsu yo&lt;br /&gt;itsumo kimi no sodate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kanashii kotosa ne otoi te okitai kara&lt;br /&gt;kimi no chizu ni, watashi no tame no teiji wo nokoshite oite ne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mimai kara fukitsukeru kaze wo (mimai kara no tsume tai kaze wo)&lt;br /&gt;kimi wa ano hi shinjita ashita wa motto takaku maiagare&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time goes by toki ga suki demo&lt;br /&gt;kitto ka waramu mono ga aru no&lt;br /&gt;todokanai kara mitsuke tai kara&lt;br /&gt;yume no tsukaso wo sagashi ni iku&lt;br /&gt;tsuba ni tte ne zutto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time goes by toki no nagare wa&lt;br /&gt;futari wo kaete yuku karetou&lt;br /&gt;nagushita mono mo yume miru mono mo&lt;br /&gt;sono d/te wo totte omoi tatsu yo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time goes by toki ga suki demo&lt;br /&gt;kitto ka waramu mono ga aru no&lt;br /&gt;todokanai kara mitsuke tai kara&lt;br /&gt;yume no tsukaso wo sagashi ni iku&lt;br /&gt;tsubasa ni iru yo zutto&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115689825567986837?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115689825567986837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115689825567986837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115689825567986837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115689825567986837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/08/lyrics-ng-song-na-gusto-ko-na-hindi-ko.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115689796673312191</id><published>2006-08-30T08:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T08:32:46.753+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>wala akong maisip na maipost...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmm... ano bang nangyari sakin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;naadik na ako uli ngayon sa &lt;b&gt;volleyball&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;weh uno rin kami sa ramayana!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tapos, uh, ewan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmm... kilig naman ako kasi naghi ako kay &lt;u&gt;papa pinky&lt;/u&gt; kagabi. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115689796673312191?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115689796673312191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115689796673312191' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115689796673312191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115689796673312191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/08/wala-akong-maisip-na-maipost.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115586656269294167</id><published>2006-08-18T10:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T10:02:42.700+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img217.imageshack.us/img217/5208/madugoyh4.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kyut&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115586656269294167?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115586656269294167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115586656269294167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115586656269294167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115586656269294167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/08/kyut.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115348783744103128</id><published>2006-07-21T20:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T21:17:17.503+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>blues blues blues&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've got the pink and green blues&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yah, i'm feeling blue, somebody get me some water! wahaha joke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pero seryoso, bad mood ako pero di naman bad trip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kasi, uh, di ko alam. ano nga bang ginagawa ko dun sa isa kong crush. parang napagisip-isip ko na rin, ano naman kung maging close kami sa mga pinaggagawa-gawa ko. mas gusto ko pa rin naman yung minamahal ko e :(.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HA! ANLABO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pero siyempre di ko naman kasi mapigilang magkacrush e, saka, ewan parang wala lang naman e pero, ah ewan. anlabo talaga. pero in fairness, wahaha, gusto ko rin namang maging close dun sa isa kong crush e. ah.. ang hirap nang walang code name at hindi binabanggit pangalan nila. ayoko kasi ng code names e. ngayon na lang muna uli, so yung crush ko ay magiging si, uh sino nga ba, ah si ano na lang, si Cris. huala lang. tapos yung loveydoves ko ay magiging si, ano ba cute? hmm, Landon. yak ang sosy pero bigla na lang yang sumulpot e. anywho. yun para kasing gusto ko talaga magin close si Cris kasi gusto ko ring magpatulong sa kanya e at masaya rin siyang kasama. grRr, naging crush ko nga lang siya in the process. di rin ako makatigil kasi basta may rason. hmm... tapos naisip ko na rin na parang crush ko na lang rin si Landon kasi parang nakakapgod na e, saka wala namang nangyayari kasi andami ko ng napalagpas na mga pagkakataon. haAay... buhay talaga parang life. tapos wala, di ko pala kaya. ugh, blech... mahal ko pa rin siya. tapos lumalabas na si Cris, ay mali. di pala kasama to, censored na kasi secret na lang to. haha. basta talagang malabo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kanina nga nag-aalala na ako baka kasi ma stranded siya ewan. nga pala, yung code names kabalastugan lang yan. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sige, grRr! labo!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115348783744103128?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115348783744103128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115348783744103128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115348783744103128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115348783744103128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/07/blues-blues-blues-ive-got-pink-and.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115172068979874560</id><published>2006-07-01T10:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T10:24:49.800+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i was planning on writing about my san juan fiesta experience last week, it was my first but i want to write about this one better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;im on a secret mission. well of course i can't tell you what it's about cause i think one of the parties involve in this mission doesn't even know about what i'm doing. anywho. i really like what i'm doing. i like the results i'm getting and i know i make people happy :D. haha, anyway. after i finished another secret agent episode, i couldn't help getting that higad feling inside me. and even though it didn't really bothered me that much, some people think it to be a big deal. one of the parties involved thanked me for it. i nodded in reply (i think). and then the higad feeling started digesting me. i was already feeling happy of what i was doing, it only made it official that i did a really good job. haha-happy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anywho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm also really happy with my roommates. during summer, i sort of forgot what it felt like to make my friends laugh. since it's sort of hard to find time with my friends again and even harder to make them laugh as much as i used to, God gave me my roommates. i'm not saying i've found a replacement for my friends, it just feels so rewarding when i make someone smile or laugh. nakaka-high!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(ito na yata yung last eh)anywho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;while i was browsing through yahoo answers, i saw a question that said, 'are you pretty?'. i wanted to answer it with a yes (weh kapal). but really, i maybe the one with the huge cheeks, messy hair and somethingies people use to measure beauty, or in this case prettiness. i would've answer it like this, 'yes, i am pretty. i have this smile that can make other people smile. i have this laugh that can make other people laugh with me. i have this rainbow within me that connects with other people's rainbow.' i didn't get to answer it because of our stinking internet connection. and then i thought of how corny that answer was and i was sort of thankful i didn't type it. haha! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115172068979874560?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115172068979874560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115172068979874560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115172068979874560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115172068979874560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-was-planning-on-writing-about-my-san.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115172015601666110</id><published>2006-07-01T10:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T10:15:56.083+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Been tagged by Marianne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, you state the rules of the game. And the rules are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. State the rules.&lt;br /&gt;2. Make your list of "6 weird things/habits"&lt;br /&gt;3. Pick 6 people you wanna tag and have the world see their names at the bottom of the list.&lt;br /&gt;4. The 6 people you tagged are gonna have to write an entry about their list. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 Weird HABITS/THINGS about DEA:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. It only takes me one and a half minute to stop paying attention (Short Attention Span). But of course I try my best to listen to my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I always smile in front of the mirror when no one's watching. I call it, my supermodel smile. But in real life, I don't have the time to actually smile that smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I bite my pillow when I'm angry, I pretend to chew on the intestine of the person I'm mad at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I can't live without a comb even if I don't use it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. My eyebrows are you usually slanted as if to say, 'weh maniwala' when I'm happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I usually get mad but don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tag: Chan chan, Paula, JC, Karen, and Arienne&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115172015601666110?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115172015601666110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115172015601666110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115172015601666110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115172015601666110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/07/been-tagged-by-marianne-first-you.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115106575164200395</id><published>2006-06-23T19:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T20:29:11.786+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>dear blog, haha joke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wala lang ang weird nung araw ko ngayon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, first, we had shortened periods today. so instead of the usual 50 min. period, we only had 40 min. that meant we had a 3-hour lunch break. boo yeah! and just like last week, we met with the otehr adelfa peoplelitions at the grandstand. we were supposed to use the p500 zim'z group won in physics to buy chicken nuggets for about 15 people. but that didn't happen. anyway, yeah we still got together. the soccer boys played badminton, (grr, kala ko bibigay rin nila agad yung raketa di na tuloy ako nakalaro, sumama na pakiramdam ko!) yeah as usual there were some laughs. i was happy to see maan laughing with them. and then i thought of the physics homework and suddenly i got pissed off. and then i looked at maan, tricia, marianne zim, giselle, chanchan, and eddie. they looked so happy, i felt out of place. i got pissed off by that. i knew right then what i felt was inappropriate. if i felt out of place i should've joined in. it wasn't fair of me to get pissed off at them for something they didn't do. i gues it's the moodswings that comes when you get sick. so i asked cha if we could go somewhere else, i really needed to cool off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after that i went to the clinic, i asked if i could not to go to classes because i really didn't feel well. they said it was alright if i really felt sick. so i went back to the dorm, changed into something comfortable, drank the medicine they gave me, ate and read the ramayana. i fell asleep after that, awakened by the pitter patter of the rain, oh yeah and hte booming of the thunder too. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so after that, my mom arrived to pick me up. since it was raining really hard, my mom decided to ride the school bus. it was my first time to ride it. there were a lot of people riding the bus. our stop was at the north ave mrt station. when we were inside the mrt already and made our stop at the quezon ave station, i saw charice and sophia limlingan making their way through the crowd. my mom found it funny that we got to ride the mrt earlier than sophia because her stop was at the quezon ave station. so she started a conversation. and then a lady asked me if we were pisay and asked me about gelyn fabro, i answered her but since i found it hard to speak loud so she can hear me, my mom continued the conversation. i was just surprised that people can recognize our skirts. cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then when i got home, nicole showed me their new and improved house, her dog, and our photos when we were younger. another cool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ala lang, basta kasi ang hectic nung araw na to eh :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115106575164200395?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115106575164200395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115106575164200395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115106575164200395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115106575164200395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/06/dear-blog-haha-joke-wala-lang-ang.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-115051643559604555</id><published>2006-06-17T11:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-17T11:53:55.633+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>first week of third year high school&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, i've always been looking forward to every year in pisay so i was so psyched to go to school and i was expecting lots of laughs and stuff when we see each other again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after the first day, everyone was complaining about the sectioning, how they miss adelfa so much. we also asked kamkam to come. i really missed her. during summer, i kept thinking of what i will say to her but the moment i saw her i forgot what i was supposed to say. i started to cry but i held it back because i felt i was being corny. but anyway i really didn't feel like sharing her with her other friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after that first day i just felt harassed by the homeworks but i tried to think of my goal of having a GWA of 1.75 or higher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but there was also this one thing which really makes me miserable, my crush. i can't do anything without thinking about him, BWISET! tricia said i was really concerned about him. that's true, i mean i can't without thinking if he has eaten. but it sucks big time. i can't even concentrate, i keep scolding myself to talk to him, but i never really got the chance. add to that the fact that my sister blurted out who my crush is in front of his friends, my friends and him. even if he doesn't seem to care about this stuff, it's still embarrassing. grr!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now i try to meet up with my friends as much as possible, last friday adelfa had a reunion and we had pizza. i also try to comply with all the requirements and study every night. and i also try to get my mind off him and maybe try to talk to him when i get the chance. grr, stressful. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-115051643559604555?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/115051643559604555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=115051643559604555' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115051643559604555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/115051643559604555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/06/first-week-of-third-year-high-school.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114648863173859927</id><published>2006-05-01T20:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T21:03:52.180+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Aha! Antagal ko na namang di nagpopost. Owkei, Wazzup y'all! Hehe sinasapian na naman ako. Oochi, ito na talaga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer, summer, summer. That word again, there's just something about this word that makes my eyebrows come together. It's that time of the year when the word organizing comes to mind. Somehow I'm forced to plan my summer vacation out, making sure I don't waste a minute. Summer vacation also has that unique power to frustrate me when I know I 'wasted' time by not doing something productive or worthwhile or anything good at all. I'm kind of frustrated right now because I hardly open my sketchbook anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing with summer is that I have a lot of time to spend with my family, to bond, to argue, joke around with and do whatever we want. Of course, family also means trouble. Why? Take a look at my sisters and you'll know why. I love them and everything but someimes they just, ARRGGHH! Oh yeah, there was this one time my sister followed me in our bathroom when I was about to take a bath. She was carrying our digital camera, she wanted to take a video of me. All she got was me saying over and over again to get out. And then, when I was about to take a bath, I could hear 'their' (this time she brought my other sister) whisperings. I knew they were up to no good, so I sat on the toilet because the window was directly above the toilet and I wouldn't be seen if they were filming through the window. Yup, they were shooting alright, and I was determined to shoot them too. So I started screaming at them so they would go deaf and leave. Yeah right, like that'll happen. But I still love them because after I lectured them about videoing people in the bathroom, they kind of learned from it and asked for my apology. So my point is, they can be cute but sinister sometimes but you gotta love them because no matter what you do, they'll be the ones you'll be stuck with for life. :D hihihi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming next on "My Weird Summer", (ui ang sosi!) keeping in touch with friends. :D see ya!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114648863173859927?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114648863173859927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114648863173859927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114648863173859927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114648863173859927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/05/aha-antagal-ko-na-namang-di-nagpopost.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114533087447733012</id><published>2006-04-18T11:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T11:27:54.480+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEE9E9" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are Teal Green&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFAFA"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatcolorgreenareyouquiz/teal-green.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a one of a kind, original person. There's no one even close to being like you.&lt;br /&gt;Expressive and creative, you have a knack for making the impossible possible.&lt;br /&gt;While you are a bit offbeat, you don't scare people away with your quirks.&lt;br /&gt;Your warm personality nicely counteracts and strange habits you may have.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatcolorgreenareyouquiz/"&gt;What Color Green Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114533087447733012?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114533087447733012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114533087447733012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114533087447733012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114533087447733012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/04/you-are-teal-green-you-are-one-of-kind.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114533053793278551</id><published>2006-04-18T11:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T11:22:17.933+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEE9E9" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Keys to Your Heart&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFAFA"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/keystoyourheartquiz/heart.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are attracted to those who have a split personality - cold as ice on the outside but hot as fire in the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd like to your lover to think you are loyal and faithful... that you'll never change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would be forced to break up with someone who was arrogant, acting like the dictator of your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your ideal relationship is open. Both of you can talk about everything... no secrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think of marriage as something precious. You'll treasure marriage and treat it as sacred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/keystoyourheartquiz/"&gt;What Are The Keys To Your Heart?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114533053793278551?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114533053793278551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114533053793278551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114533053793278551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114533053793278551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/04/keys-to-your-heart-you-are-attracted.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114533024345199761</id><published>2006-04-18T11:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T11:21:36.560+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"  style="color:#dddddd;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;People Envy Your Compassion&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#eeeeee"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatdopeopleenvyaboutyouquiz/compassion.gif" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;You have a kind heart and an unusual empathy for all living creatures. You tend to absorb others' happiness and pain.People envy your compassion, and more importantly, the connections it helps you build. And compassionate as you are, you feel for them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="&lt;a"&gt;What Do People Envy About You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114533024345199761?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114533024345199761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114533024345199761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114533024345199761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114533024345199761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/04/people-envy-your-compassionyou-have.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114476193422769630</id><published>2006-04-11T20:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T21:25:38.853+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>uh... hi! hehe! antagal ko nang hindi nagpopost. sorry, busy kasi ako kaka-sims 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this post is dedicated to what i've been doing with my summer so far&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Overnight at my cuzin's house&lt;br /&gt;-- What can I say? They have a really huge house. They also have ps2 and really nice internet connection. And I mean nayzz! Wahaha! Nakakabaliw! Happy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. They also scream for ice cream&lt;br /&gt;-- My mom, aunts, and uncles surprised us by buying a lot of gallons of different flavored ice cream. Siyempre, wahaha, may pistachio!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. My grandparents 45th Wedding Anniversary&lt;br /&gt;-- Coolnessness! I got to be a bridesmaid! It was cool because I think it's cool. And the church and reception was beautiful. It's just weird because I had to wear silver three-inch heeled sandals, or whatever you call them. I also had to wear a blue off-shouldered top and skirt. It had to be off-shouldered because I have huge arms.Wahaha! The evil thing about this anniversary is that we never got to swim at the swimming pool! Something me and my cousins were looking forward to for days! grRrness!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Road Trips&lt;br /&gt;-- Yup! We went to Laguna, JUST TO BUY SWEET CORN AND BUKO PIE! Well, not really. To make up for the swim they owed us, the adults planned to go there so we can swim. But plans have changed and swam in our cousins inflatable pool. At first I didn't to join. I'd rather be stuck inside the computer than be anywhere near their pool. I thought it was too childish. And then I realized that childish is my middle name. So I jumped in the shallow pool. I landed lower leg first, slipped face first on the floor of the 'pool'. THAT WAS TOTALLY WICKED! Pool, road trips, hello anong konek? But anyway, let's just change the title from 'Road Trips' to 'Road Trips and Pools' ayos? AYOS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Slimming Down&lt;br /&gt;-- Hey what can I do? When i entered Pisay, my waistline was 27 in, last last week, it was 32. I found it amazing at first but my mom had a different reaction which led me to the thought of slimming down. So I wake up at 6 am every morning. Watch TV for 30 mins. and bellydance until 7 am. It's really hard because it's a cardio workout. I also cut short on the sweets which is apparently giving me sore throats and fevers. This morning, my body was still aching from the workout yesterday and I still had fever this morning so my mom and I went on a 30 minute brisk walk (Yes, my mom's into my whole slimming down thing. She's determined to really help me slim down). I couldn't take another minute of brisk walking because the blood in my thighs were really itchy. The same feeling I get when Chan Chan and I slap each other's hands only worse. So far I've removed an inch of my waist after a weekend. Aside from that, this also means bonding time with my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Bonding with cousins&lt;br /&gt;-- Since we had to celebrate my lolo and lola's wed anniv, my mom's siblings all went to manila. I had an aunt who lived in Japan, and another aunt in Iloilo, our province. I got to spend time with Sar, Lors, Cutie, Lyssa, Kenji, Nadine, Ally, and my two sisters, Yana and Gela. Yah sure, I'm old and their, well, young. But it's cool. Wahaha. I got to do baby talk and all those kiddie stuff. But sometimes they go overboard. Like my cuz Ally who is so malambuing that I fall when she hugs me and keeps mushing my face, pinching my cheeks and all that. And there's Nadine. She has 6 brothers who she and her mom left with their dad in Iloilo because they were too many. Well, she acts too boyish for me because she keeps punching me and sometimes her jokes aren't funny anymore. And there's Cutie who likes to treat me as an object, litereally. She sits on me, steps on me and whatever. But I love them still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I gues that's all for now. Haha. I'll try to keep you posted! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114476193422769630?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114476193422769630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114476193422769630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114476193422769630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114476193422769630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/04/uh.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114267081328122298</id><published>2006-03-18T15:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-19T20:54:41.023+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>spoiled spoiled spoiled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you'll be hearing this word a lot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to start with, let's face it, i'm spoiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i grew up with a &lt;em&gt;yaya&lt;/em&gt; taking care of me. until now. i'm used to shouting, 'yaya tubig!' or 'yaya paki-ayos na ng mga gamit ko!' i know, it's evil. i make my yaya suffer! wahaha. just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my mom never lets me do chores. my mom never lets me commute alone. even if it is as near as SM Bacoor which is just walking distance. i also get what i want, when i want. like when i asked for a volleyball, i got one. or when i asked for a laptop, well, my dad's already going to dubai right now find me one. why dubai? well, haha, he works there. or the digicam or the videocam. i am soo evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ah... the lifestyles of the rich and famous. just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but hey, i know when enough is enough. i never asked for a psp yet. i asked for a laptop because i needed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's kind of weird. i have classmates who can commute home alone. i have classmates who do chores, i have classmates who, well, don't always get what they want. it's really weird. WEIRD I SAY! WEIRD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok. so maybe i'm the weird one but it's not my fault my mom forces me to put sunblock everytime i go out. or she lets me eat all i want and well, gives me more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now why did i come to think about this topic? well, it was a thursday and i was being pulled out from the dorm and we were supposed to go to sm megamall. i asked my yaya if she knew how to get there. she said NO! so i asked my classmates. mark said we just have to take the mrt. wahaha, onga no. how stupid of me. the sm megamall was just walking distance from my dad's office in the shangri-la mall. well, of course, we don't walk. we take the car. AARGH! i'm giving me the creeps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, when we got to sm, i saw my cousins, one was half japanese. my first reaction was, 'shet ang bochog na ng pinsan ko.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then it came to me. even if i am spoiled, i still have responsibilities. i am the eldest of three children. i have to be the ate they loom up to, or whatever. AH BASTA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wala na akong maisip sabihin e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CONCLUSION: being spoiled is a challenge. you have to have the initiative to learn to be independent and know your priorities. it's a challenge to be mature despite life's luxuries punching you in the face. my point? di ko rin alam!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114267081328122298?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114267081328122298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114267081328122298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114267081328122298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114267081328122298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/03/spoiled-spoiled-spoiled-youll-be.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114251532487631957</id><published>2006-03-16T21:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-16T21:22:04.886+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>wahaha! bagong favorite shong!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hard To Believe&lt;br /&gt;Cueshe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i&lt;br /&gt;I find it hard to believe&lt;br /&gt;That all the pain that we are feeling&lt;br /&gt;Has some meaning in this world.&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard to believe&lt;br /&gt;When everything you see is different&lt;br /&gt;From the things that you've been told.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;I wanted life to be this way&lt;br /&gt;Just a little bit of love could mean so much.&lt;br /&gt;Oh please don't take it all way.&lt;br /&gt;But with you heaven is still close enough to touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ii&lt;br /&gt;I find it hard to believe&lt;br /&gt;That someone out there is waiting&lt;br /&gt;With arms open wide and smiling&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard to believe&lt;br /&gt;When someone told me that your suffering&lt;br /&gt;Is what you get for living&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(repeat chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bridge:&lt;br /&gt;Because your love is still the only thing&lt;br /&gt;That matters in this world&lt;br /&gt;The only thing i can believe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(repeat chorus)&lt;br /&gt;(repeat bridge except last word)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........believe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing i can believe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing i can&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....believe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114251532487631957?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114251532487631957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114251532487631957' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114251532487631957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114251532487631957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/03/wahaha-bagong-favorite-shong-hard-to.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114152977285510024</id><published>2006-03-05T11:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T11:36:12.866+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>dedicated to sa kanya galing sa favorite kong banda! wahaha! ang fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'girlfriend' by kamikazee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it never even crossed my mind&lt;br /&gt;that i would fall inlove with you&lt;br /&gt;you were always there behind me&lt;br /&gt;but i never looked that way&lt;br /&gt;friends are friends i looked at them&lt;br /&gt;nothing more and nothing less&lt;br /&gt;familiar things you say and do&lt;br /&gt;seem so strange its not like you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it never even crossed my mind&lt;br /&gt;that i would fall inlove with you&lt;br /&gt;you were always there behind me&lt;br /&gt;but i never looked that way&lt;br /&gt;funny things that made me laugh&lt;br /&gt;is when i think about the past&lt;br /&gt;i never saw it coming&lt;br /&gt;but when i turn around and you were there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chorus:&lt;br /&gt;I learned today&lt;br /&gt;that i need you more each day&lt;br /&gt;grab on to you&lt;br /&gt;dont ever let go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned today&lt;br /&gt;that i need you more each day&lt;br /&gt;grab on to you&lt;br /&gt;dont ever let go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chorus:&lt;br /&gt;I learned today&lt;br /&gt;that i need you more each day&lt;br /&gt;grab on to you&lt;br /&gt;dont ever let go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned today&lt;br /&gt;that i need you more each day&lt;br /&gt;grab on to you&lt;br /&gt;dont ever let go...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114152977285510024?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114152977285510024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114152977285510024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114152977285510024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114152977285510024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/03/dedicated-to-sa-kanya-galing-sa.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114152662317161773</id><published>2006-03-05T10:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T10:43:43.220+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;the day my troubles about my friends lessened&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a lot happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;i've changed someone, i still don't know if it it was for better or for worse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;and then someone's leaving me. no more about that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;and then, my two best friends had a silent war. i confirmed the fact that they hated each other during env sci. my best friend wrote, "i think it's too late." after reading those words, i looked at the whiteboard. at that time, it didn't look white. to me, it was black. and then, i felt my heart pounding. i knew  right then that my heart had been powdered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;my friend already warned me for this. she told me she had a nightmare where she will have a fight with one of our best friends and they will become enemies. i told her i wouldn't let that happen. but it did. and i hated myself for letting that happen. i hate her nightmare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;their fight is practically eating away at me. somehow, it feels like it's worse than my parents separating, because if ever my parents separate, i would understand because they would've talked it over first.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i really feel like dying because they're in front of me having a cold war and there's nothing i can do about it. :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;what's gonna happen to me now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;might as well die...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;nope...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;the day my world ended&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114152662317161773?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114152662317161773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114152662317161773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114152662317161773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114152662317161773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/03/day-my-troubles-about-my-friends.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114095132020347861</id><published>2006-02-26T18:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T18:55:20.213+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>some say i’m a rich kid. THE HELL I CARE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i’ve been surprising myself with the things i say and the thoughts that come into my mind lately. i don’t usually cuss or anything. i usually scold people who do it. i don’t usually think of myself causing all the chaos in the world. i don’t usually hate. i don’t even know what I hate. i just have this feeling of hate. i don’t usually hear voices telling me to do bad things that I try to ignore. i don’t usually have screaming in my head. grRr! i’ve been crying my heart out for the past three weeks. what the hell is wrong with me?! the hell! i’m not supposed to say that word again. i keep on thinking about ate tin’s diagnose of this sickness. she said i had compassion fatigue where i become tired of giving advice and help to everyone around me, and long for some attention. that’s why i’ve been crying, because i loved the attention i get when i cry. but i know it’s wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, i’ve diagnosed myself and i think,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i’ve broken my own heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and there’s no one else to blame for it than me. i didn’t know that blaming everything on myself and criticizing myself too much would crush my heart. i’m sick. aside from that, i really, really miss adelfa right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is sick. really sick. help. something tells me that if my heart doesn't get fixed before summer vacation, my whole self will be broken. :S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sighs as she feels a teardrop sliding down her cheek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm really tired...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114095132020347861?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114095132020347861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114095132020347861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114095132020347861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114095132020347861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/some-say-im-rich-kid.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114086662785752805</id><published>2006-02-25T19:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T19:23:47.873+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>labsh ko tong shong na cho :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i found a way" by drake bell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought that it'd be so simple but &lt;br /&gt;I found a way, I found a way &lt;br /&gt;I always thought that it'd be too crazy but &lt;br /&gt;I found a way, I found a way &lt;br /&gt;if you open up your mind &lt;br /&gt;See what's inside &lt;br /&gt;it's gonna take some time, to realize &lt;br /&gt;But if you look inside, I'm sure you'll find.... &lt;br /&gt;Over your shoulder you know that&lt;br /&gt;I'll always be pickin' you up when you're down &lt;br /&gt;So just turn around &lt;br /&gt;Now that I know that anything's possible &lt;br /&gt;I found a way, I found a way &lt;br /&gt;No one can break what is so unbreakable &lt;br /&gt;I found a way, I found a way &lt;br /&gt;And if you open up your mind &lt;br /&gt;See what's inside &lt;br /&gt;Well it's gonna take some time, to realize &lt;br /&gt;But if you look inside, I'm sure you'll find &lt;br /&gt;Over your shoulder you know that I told you &lt;br /&gt;I'll always be pickin' you up when you're down &lt;br /&gt;So just turn around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wahaha! ang asteEeg. ito yung theme song ng "drake and josh"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114086662785752805?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114086662785752805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114086662785752805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114086662785752805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114086662785752805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/labsh-ko-tong-shong-na-cho-d-i-found.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114086539536834405</id><published>2006-02-25T18:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T19:03:15.926+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>weird realization&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shaAaks! grabe! ang bakla ko pero di ko alam na ganito ko pala namimiss ang adelfa. oo nga, namimiss ko sila every weekend, pero ngayon super miss ko na adelfa kasi mage-end na ang schoolyear tapos sira pa computer namin kaya walang YM! aAarRrgGghHh! bwesit! wehehe. nababaliw na tuloy ako. gusto ko nang maka-usap classmates ko. tapos sana talaga may pasok noong friday. waAah... iyak na ako. adelfa palang ang namimiss ko ng ganito. :S nakakalungkot talaga. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tapos kanina nag-friendster ako, mga 2 months na yata ako di nagfre-friendster tapos nag-aaprove lang naman ako ng requests. tapos sinilip ko yung profile nung mga dating kong mga kaklase sa dati kong shkool. muntik na naman ako maiyak kasi andami nang nangyari. pati dun sa mga best friend. natatakot nga akong magkalimutan kami pero kasalanan ko na rin kasi d ako bumibisita sa kanila. :S :( waAah... iiyak uli ang iyakin. bakit ganon? lalang hehe. sige. waAah... ang lungkot talaga. tapos ang senti pa nitong bwiset na kantang pinapakinggan ko. 'you and me' by lifehouse. sige. babay na talaga. :S&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114086539536834405?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114086539536834405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114086539536834405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114086539536834405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114086539536834405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/weird-realization-shaaaks-grabe-ang.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114076320825994039</id><published>2006-02-24T13:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T19:10:37.600+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i'm bored...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know. let's take a look inside my mind! yey! ang fun. sige. ready? ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, if you look in front you'll see the VOICES section of my mind. let's take a look shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'you stupid idiotic moron!' &lt;br /&gt;             'i'm not stupid!'                       &lt;br /&gt;'you fu***** as***le!'                           &lt;br /&gt;                    'this is stupid!'                    &lt;br /&gt;   'forgive her!'            &lt;br /&gt;               'i'm tired of forgiving!'              &lt;br /&gt;    'i need someone to listen to me!'                            'you will never have someone to listen to you!'                                 &lt;br /&gt;       'LIES! they're all lies!'              &lt;br /&gt;   'stop talking to me!'                                                   &lt;br /&gt;     'your life is stupid! it's the stupidest thing i've ever seen!'                        &lt;br /&gt;                'you lied and you know &lt;br /&gt;   it!'                                                               'STOP IT!'                            &lt;br /&gt;         'STOP! STOP! everybody please stop! just for a while. please!'                                                &lt;br /&gt;           'i have compassion fatigue, i'm tired.'                    &lt;br /&gt;                              'i can't go on like this!'                                 'MY LIFE SUCKS!'                        &lt;br /&gt;              'it's not funny anymore!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then here's the QUESTION AND NO ANSWER portion of my mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'why do you keep messing with my life?!'    &lt;br /&gt;                                           'who the hell keeps cutting all the trees in the forest?'                          &lt;br /&gt;                            'why do you care?'              &lt;br /&gt;               'why can't the world stop for just an hour?! i need to sort my problems out!'        &lt;br /&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;         'when will all this lying and hurting stop? when i'm dead?'                   &lt;br /&gt;              'why was i stupid enough to leave him there? you finally found someone who wouldn't leave you no matter what and you left him?'                 &lt;br /&gt;          'who's the stupid one who left him in that old school?'                               &lt;br /&gt;      'am i the stupidest person in the world?'                           &lt;br /&gt;                                'can you see the sadness behind these smiles?'                           &lt;br /&gt;       'is there any cure for this illness?'                                                                       &lt;br /&gt; 'won't someone tell me that i'm not alone and stupid?'                        &lt;br /&gt;                     'why the hell am i jealous?'            &lt;br /&gt;                 'why are you treating me like this?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh! and here we see the SENTI THOUGHTS section.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'awit na nananawagan baka sakaling napakikinggan pag ibig na palaisipan sa kanta na lang idaraan...&lt;br /&gt;nag-aabang sa langit.. sa mga ulap sumisilip.. sa likod ng mga tala.. kahit sulyap lang *insert name of my crush here'          &lt;br /&gt;                                 'stop think wait a minute, is it love that you really feel?'                    &lt;br /&gt;                  'just seeing him smile makes me happy.'                              &lt;br /&gt;                  'mapapansin kaya sa dami ng 'yong ginagawa kung. kaagaw ko ang lahat may pag asa bang makilala ka...'                          &lt;br /&gt;                          'i need his company right now.'                            &lt;br /&gt;         'if i was given the chance again, i wouldn't let it slip through my hands again.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok. and here's the SOLUTIONS part of my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'i could always forget about him.'                                &lt;br /&gt;       'i could always become a loner so that i wouldn't have to worry about friendship problems.'          &lt;br /&gt;                           'nope, suicide never works. it's just plain stupid.'                         &lt;br /&gt;    'i could become a nerd.'                  &lt;br /&gt;              'i could just forget everything that's happened so far.'                        &lt;br /&gt;                       'i could continue praying.'              &lt;br /&gt;        'maybe i could try closing down my mind. just so i wouldn't hear those pesky voices again.'                                       &lt;br /&gt;    'i could transfer my brain inside a robot. that would work.'                                 &lt;br /&gt;     'i could, i couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't... kill. no! of course i wouldn't! that's really stupid!'       &lt;br /&gt;                 'i could always resolve to killing my emotions. but i just don't know how.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, i guess that's it for today. oh yeah. warning: this tour wasn't for the weak-hearted. sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114076320825994039?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114076320825994039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114076320825994039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114076320825994039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114076320825994039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/im-bored.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114026022469119950</id><published>2006-02-18T18:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T18:57:04.703+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>with a smile by south border&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lift your head, baby, don’t be scared&lt;br /&gt;Of the things that could go wrong along the way&lt;br /&gt;You’ll get by with a smile&lt;br /&gt;You can’t win at everything but you can try&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby, you don’t have to worry&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause there ain’t no need to hurry&lt;br /&gt;No one ever said that there’s an easy way&lt;br /&gt;And when they’re closin’ all their doors&lt;br /&gt;And they don’t want you anymore&lt;br /&gt;It sounds funny but I’ll say it anyway&lt;br /&gt;Girl, I’ll stay through the bad times&lt;br /&gt;Even if I have to fetch you everyday&lt;br /&gt;You’ll get by if you smile&lt;br /&gt;You can never be too happy in this life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause in a world where everybody&lt;br /&gt;Hates a happy ending story&lt;br /&gt;It’s a wonder love can make the world go round&lt;br /&gt;But don’t let it bring you down&lt;br /&gt;And turn your face into a frown&lt;br /&gt;You’ll get along with a little prayer and a song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lift your head, baby, don’t be scared&lt;br /&gt;Of the things that could go wrong along the way&lt;br /&gt;We’ll get by with a smile&lt;br /&gt;Now it’s time to kiss away those tears goodbye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114026022469119950?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114026022469119950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114026022469119950' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114026022469119950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114026022469119950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/with-smile-by-south-border-lift-your.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114024786092496671</id><published>2006-02-18T14:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T15:31:00.936+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>they say the truth hurts--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is just another one of those pistachio boy's mushy posts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm really, really sure that what i'm feeling for him right now is love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, first of all, i can't help feeling sad whenever i see him hurt or eating alone. whenever i see him alone, i want to accompany him, whatever it is he may be doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then of course there's happiness. i always feel happy when i know he is. i find happiness whenever he gets passing scores in our tests. i find happiness whenever he is with someone i know he likes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i also know it's love because i don't need to know he likes me back. and i don't "want" him. just knowing he's alright is enough for me. just seeing him smile already makes my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why do i love him? well, it all started with "i like him." and then i realized that he had everything i was looking for in a guy. and then i thought that someone like him deserves someone better than me because i never thought he would be this close to my definition of a perfect guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then i started caring for him, the moment i told myself that he's not my possession, i'm just someone who has a crush on him. soon, it wasn't just that anymore. now it's, i'm someone who cares for him. it's freaky, i know. but i don't regret it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's fun. why? because he is my inspiration and one of my sources of happiness!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but that doesn't mean i don't love my friends. i love them, that's the reason why i listen to them and help them in their problems. i don't talk to him, so i can't make sure if he's feeling well or if he has problems that's why i think of him a lot. i always wish the best for my family, my friends, and for him. i love all of them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;--truth is, it didn't hurt. love doesn't hurt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114024786092496671?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114024786092496671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114024786092496671' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114024786092496671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114024786092496671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/they-say-truth-hurts-this-is-just.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114024399737929928</id><published>2006-02-18T13:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T14:26:37.420+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i've been feeling down lately&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been crying everyday for the past two weeks straight. i'm really tired. but i don't have to be tired anymore. hehe. here's what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i cried last monday during our health period walk-out. i didn't want to cry in public, but i couldn't help it. i cried so hard that i was already shouting, "ayoko na!" while i was crying, max kept bugging me if i was alright. it's weird because i'm already drowning in tears and he still kept asking me if i was alright. :s&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then i talked to karen about what i've been going through. i told her that i'm not the type who cries when i go through hardships, not unless it's really heavy. i was afraid of crying everytime i felt sad because then i would have to cry everytime. i never thought this day would come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i told karen that all i could see that were my imperfections and i was really putting myself down. and then I kept blaming everything on myself. and i kept paying too much attention on what everyone around me have that I don’t.  it was hard because i couldn’t stop. i told her my “other” problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i really felt like crying while i was talking to her, but i couldn’t quite force my tears to fall. and then kam kam came and i talked to her about this. as I was going to lie down on my bed while talking to her, my head bumped the wooden side of my bed. and that’s when i cried my heart out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all the while, i was waiting for something to help me make the tears fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and this was what i said in between tears:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"masakit malaman na napag-iiiwanan ka na ng panahon, pero mas masakit malaman na wala kang ginagawa para makahabol."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tear here&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"nadidiliman ako."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tear here&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"alam ko naman na ang demonyo ang kalaban ko eh. pero ang nakikita ko lang ay ang sarili ko na sinasakal ang sarili ko. nakatunganga lang ako. tapos nung sinubukan kong lumaban, sarili ko lang ang nasaktan ko."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;kam kam shares some of her past experiences here&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tear here&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"hindi ko sinasabi sa inyo kasi natatakot akong madamay pa kayo. kaya iniiyak ko na lang. ayoko kong lumubog kayo kasama ko."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tear here&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kam kam and karen: di ka naman lulubog kasi tutulungan ka naman namin e.&lt;br /&gt;"ayoko yung sinasabing 'lilipas din yan,' kasi di ka sigurado kung ano ok pa nun. malay mo, pagkatapos ng lahat, wala ka na."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tear here&gt;&lt;br /&gt;karen: ikaw naman kasi e. masyado kang nag-iisip.&lt;br /&gt;"kasi may phobia ako sa hinaharap. ayoko nang hindi ako sigurado kung magiging ok lang ako o hindi. gusto kong makasigurado."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tear here&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"natatakot ako."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tear here&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;stops here&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been crying everyday for two weeks straight. now i don't have to. i may not have any clue yet of what the future holds for me after this crisis of mine is over, but i have assurance from my friends that they wouldn't let me sink even if i'm really really heavy. besides, if i was the one who is weighing down on myself, i'm pretty sure i could remove the weight. of course, with help from my friends and God!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114024399737929928?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114024399737929928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114024399737929928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114024399737929928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114024399737929928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/ive-been-feeling-down-lately-ive-been.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-114017788463751241</id><published>2006-02-17T19:09:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T16:13:34.850+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>happy valentine's day! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had a really meaningful valentine's day this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at first, i thought i didn't have any valentine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then my dad called. he called to greet me a happy valentine's day which would normally take 2 minutes. but our conversation lasted for 6 minutes. i really missed him. wahaha! i only see him one month a year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then my mom texted me a happy valentine's day. she also said, "mima(pet name) luvs u!" she seldom texted me that when i was younger. but now, we're more open to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after my dad called, kam kam told me she was happy for me because my dad called. and then there's karen, who was the one who rushed to bring my cellphone to me because i left it upstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wahaha! it was a really meaningful valentine's day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-114017788463751241?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/114017788463751241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=114017788463751241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114017788463751241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/114017788463751241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/happy-valentines-day-d-i-had-really_17.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113975559524484734</id><published>2006-02-12T21:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T22:59:57.036+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>it's really weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was having a conversation with marianne about... uh... stuff. then it lead to "love."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel weird whenever i say that word, or even think of it. i used to be one of those corny people who didn't believe in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i asked marianne if she thinks my feelings for my crush can be considered as love. she said yes and instantly, i became one of the corniest people who are in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but then i had flashbacks of the things i experienced when i had a crush on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like the time he was absent for about a week, the week of my birthday, and i was told he had sore eyes. i almost cried for him because i knew how it felt and i wished i had sore eyes too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i remember last year, he was still smaller than me and i always put our heavy earth sci book on my head because i didn't want to be taller than him. it's weird but i find it cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i always wished him the best. i wanted him to be happy that i felt "kilig" for him whenever he was with his crush. no matter how jealous i was, i tried to hide because i didn't want to ruin his happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my friends said i was being a martyr, but i never really thought of the things that i did as sacrifices. while the evil ones told me this was just an obsession. it wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i knew that i would never forget him. no. i would never forget the happiness he brings me when he's just being him. i loved everything about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but it took me a while to admit i was indeed in love with him. i was always trying to find a reason. i asked my friends who are in love why they love that special someone, they keep telling me that you don't need a reason. it didn't make sense to me then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;good thing karen came to my rescue and gave me a reason. she told me that i love him because i love everything about him. maan told me that if it's better to love someone without a reason because if that reason fades, it would mean that your love would go away too, and that's not love. but with the reason karen gave me, it was hard not to love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then marianne confirmed all of my doubts. when i cried because a lot of people had a crush on him, approximately five, and i was nothing compared to those people, marianne told me that i couldn't deny not being hurt because i had been crushing on him for a long time and it had developed already. she was right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i really am in love. no it's not puppy love. i may not be googly-eyed whenever he passes by but he puts a lot of smiles on my face just by being who he is. and i constantly share in his triumphs and downfalls. and no matter how much i try, i can't remove the pain i feel when i know he is in pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wahahaha! kitam! ang corny ko na talaga! kasalanan niya to eh. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*thank you giselle, karen, maan and marianne! mwah! kahit anong mangyari naman e mas love ko pa rin kayo kesa sa kanya! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113975559524484734?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113975559524484734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113975559524484734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113975559524484734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113975559524484734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/its-really-weird.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113965938353493507</id><published>2006-02-11T19:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T20:03:03.643+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"laging bigo, laging sawi sa pag-ibig&lt;br /&gt;minamalas o kay sakit&lt;br /&gt;may balat nga ba ako sa pwet?"&lt;br /&gt;-taken from "tumatakbo" by mojofly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;medyo walang kinalaman yung lyrics sa taas pero ito kasi yung pinapakinggan ko nung sinulat ko to. wahahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we have this classmate who's been, well, nothing but trouble. it's not really trouble but i know a lot of people who don't like him. i've been mad at him a lot of times (i cried almost everyday of the week last YMSAT week because of him), but i always forgive him afterwards. he doesn't even know he hurt other people. he wasn't like that when we first met him. he was funny then, but now his jokes are really really mean. (iyak na ko :S)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bwiset siya pero i don't want anyone in adelfa being left out. i don't see him hanging out with his usual barkada anymore. anlungkot naman ng buhay niya. pero kasi sana kung magsosorry siya, magsorry siya dahil nagsisisi talaga, hindi lang dahil wala nang lumalapit sa kanya. (bakit ba ako nagtataglish?! grRrness.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sana magkabati na sila ng barkada nila at kung sino mang kaaway niya. this goes for everyone who has trouble getting along with other people. SHTUP WARR and MEK PISH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113965938353493507?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113965938353493507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113965938353493507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113965938353493507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113965938353493507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/laging-bigo-laging-sawi-sa-pag-ibig.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113965503446100817</id><published>2006-02-11T17:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T18:50:34.470+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>where's batoytoy now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can still remember her. she had shoulder length hair which was always kept neat with braids. she always played patintero with her friends. she never failed to make her friends laugh. she always gets high grades and usually wins at quiz bees and pther competitions. she's hardly afraid to make friends but too shy to start up conversations. she has a male best friends and are not afraid to talk to them. she hardly has any problems. she's very happy-go-lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if i ever get the chance to talk to my friends in my old school, i know they would tell me that they miss batoytoy. i miss her too. i don't know if i can bring her back, but i know she's still here, only she doesn't show herself anymore. if it's for the better, i'll just try to call her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but for know, i think it's best to let her rest, if ever there is something about me that needs to be changed, just tell me. i may not become batoytoy anymore but i'll try to be someone better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113965503446100817?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113965503446100817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113965503446100817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113965503446100817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113965503446100817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/wheres-batoytoy-now-i-can-still.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113899159439487764</id><published>2006-02-04T02:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-04T02:33:14.423+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>an honest mistake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i  recently told my mom that my grades went down this quarter. she asked me why and was surprised that i told her the truth. i told her i didn't feel like studying anymore. as usual, she scolded me. but somehow it felt good that i finally told her what i really felt about staying in pisay. i know that behind all that lecturing, she was glad to know that i was slowly opening up to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it sort of paid off because i could see a potential friend in my mom. sure she is my mom but i've never regarded her as a friend. i just hope things turn out good between us. wahahahaha! (bakit nga ba ako tumawa?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113899159439487764?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113899159439487764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113899159439487764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113899159439487764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113899159439487764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/02/honest-mistake-i-recently-told-my-mom.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113852796393503045</id><published>2006-01-29T17:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T17:46:03.946+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>crystal clear metamorphosis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had a ym conversation with a classmate last friday. he was trying to guess who my crush is and he got it right. i asked him if i was obvious. he said he could see it in my eyes. i don't know if that was a joke or not but it really surprised me because i was becoming transparent to people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;during my freshman year, i was really, really quiet. i think the only person i speak to in our class were ral and jc. the other ones, well, usuallt they're the one who walk up to me to start a conversation. wahahaha! what's funny is that i've been more talkative this year and people still say i'm quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but anyway, i've started being talkative because i don't to be a mystery to the people around me, even to my friends who claim that they still don't know me that much. but despite that, i don't think i've overdone it. i'm just wondering how people can know a lot about me with just a glance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's okay. i think it's pretty cool. only i'm afraid that if they can look through me, they might be neglecting other stuff about me as well. but right now, everything's turning out ok. they haven't made a false statement about me that has destroyed my life so far. but i won't take any chances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;also, i'm starting to be more open to the people around me. i've started talking to a lot of my female classmates during the start of the schoolyear, and right now, i've started talking to some of my male classmates and our adviser. but despite that, i haven't talked to my crush yet, ever since last year. naiinis na nga ako sa sarili kasi ganon ako e. wahaha! sadness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know God has given me another chance to get to know my crush but i ignored it. but i won't waste. i'll try to make sure i talk to him before the year ends. we just might not be classmates next year anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's all for now. like i said, i'm inspired to study. i have to study for our geometry long test but it's way past my bedtime. bye bye! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113852796393503045?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113852796393503045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113852796393503045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113852796393503045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113852796393503045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/01/crystal-clear-metamorphosis-i-had-ym.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113793283134423293</id><published>2006-01-22T20:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T20:27:11.366+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i've already made a lot of friendships and aquaintances. the following people are who i consider my best friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nicole imaysay. we've been friends since kindergarten. we've seen each other bloom into young ladies. even if we are already teenagers, we still play our favorite games like patintero, or ice water. we still enjoy it as much as we did when we were years younger. she's my childhood friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;zarah de leon. she's my mom in my previous school. she tells me a lot about anime and a lot about how it's going to be when we get separated because i will go to pshs. she is the one who prepared me for what i've experienced and what i will be experiencing. she's like a teacher to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;karen delantar. she's the only person i can get really philosophical about stuff. i tell her something i've noticed, like why people backstab, and then she will agree with me and share some of her own observations. she's also the person who tells me stuff about human behaviour. no, she's not a nerd, we're just both observative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;giselle diaz. she's my mom in our school and she does a good job at it. she likes to tell me love stories and she always makes me laugh. she also likes giving me hugs and kisses. whenever i get scared, she lets me sleep beside her. last year, when i was still mad at my real mom, i always run to her. she also gives me advice on friendships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maan manaol. she's the one who helps me be closer to God. she is the one who always tells me to pray to God and my companion whenever i go to confessions. besides that, she's the one who reminds me about God during my breakdowns. she is also the corniest person i've ever met. she has the amazing ability of making a corny joke out of almost everything i say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;marianne padilla. she knows a lot about girl world and about how it goes. she's the one who guides me. she's like my adviser. but she can be really weird in a good and funny way when she's hyper. and that's one of the things that makes me laugh. she is the only person i can talk to about girly girl stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jc cruz. she is like my big sister. being the eldest, i've never experienced having one. she would tell me stuff about what it's like to be her and she is the one who invites us to gimmicks. she is the one who is encouraging me to experience life at its best. to enjoy every minute, every second of it. just like my dream big sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lastly, michael argel alcabaza. (yak binuo!) together with nicole, he is one of my childhood friends. somehow i feel awkward whenever i'm with him so i don't talk to him that much anymore. but whatever happens, he is still one of my best friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for those i didn't mention who feel that they should be there, maybe i need more time to process (huh?) our friendship, before i can call you my best friend. bye!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113793283134423293?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113793283134423293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113793283134423293' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113793283134423293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113793283134423293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/01/ive-already-made-lot-of-friendships.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113776908051073314</id><published>2006-01-20T21:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T20:33:41.456+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>por que?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ma'am edulan said high school is the best time to fall in love. i think so too. but i have never been in love before. i'm surrounded with friends who are and it's driving me insane!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;actually, i'm just jealous. they say it feels good. i wish i knew how it felt. they seem so happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so what's exactly going on with my "love life?" well, first of all, i still have a crush on this person i've had a crush on ever since the second week of first year. i never have "kilig" moments with him. i don't even feel giddy when he does something my friends say i'm supposed to feel giddy about. but no matter how i try to forget him, i can never forget him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then i have two other crushes. one is not a serious crush. i just find him cute. shallow right? the other one, he's a big deal. i just find out i have a crush on him today. at first it was infatuation. but then again i didn't want these feelings to go away. i wanted to fall in love with him. i know it's stupid. i can't force myself to fall in love, but i wanted to. it just good, but it doesn't feel that right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just hope i have my feelings sorted out soon. i also hope i fall in love soon. yuck. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113776908051073314?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113776908051073314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113776908051073314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113776908051073314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113776908051073314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/01/por-que-maam-edulan-said-high-school.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113672205043641636</id><published>2006-01-08T19:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T20:07:30.446+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>still can't believe he's gone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this morning, after we attended mass, i was told that one of my batchmate in my previous school passed away. his name is nino valmadrid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he died just before new year. he never made it to 2006. i was told he was ran over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i barely new him, but the fact that i did is enough for me to cry my heart out. i just wished i got to know him better because the times i spent with him were good ones. he always made me laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i haven't visited my previous school in a while. what's funny is that before i was informed of his death i was thinking of how he was. i asked myself, "kamusta na kaya yung baklang yun? lalaki na kaya siya?" nope, he's not really gay. he's just more... feminine. yeah feminine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i blame myself for his death. i've been feeling really depressed lately, i just don't let it show. wait, no. i can't. i can't cry but i feel that i have to. or else i'll die, i think. i've been thinking that if someone died, i would cry. and i could make it an excuse to cry. it was perfect. i was already thinking what would happen if my dog died. i would cry and shout and cry some more. i think there was a time when i was actually praying to God to help me cry. and then, nino died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i felt really guilty and stupid. although i know that the world doesn't revolve around me, i feel like he died just for the fulfillment of my stupid wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nino, wherever you are right now, i hope you're happy. we're not that close but i will still miss you. you're my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;got to go. i have to cry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113672205043641636?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113672205043641636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113672205043641636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113672205043641636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113672205043641636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/01/still-cant-believe-hes-gone.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113661507861477427</id><published>2006-01-07T13:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-07T14:24:38.633+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>dear **l****,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    you came into my life one day, you took it away from me the next. you took away the very earth i stepped. you destroyed my name. you took away my dignity. you even destroyed my friends. being with you made me feel like i was in hell, every second of it. i wanted to die because of you. but i also wanted to live because of you. i wanted to someday take revenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    and then we got separated. i lived my life, i was happy. i forgot about you. and then one day you came to me. just by looking at you, i remembered all those things you did to me. you asked me a favor. a very big favor which involves being with you once again. you asked me to help you fix your life. how dare you, you f****** as***le!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    i wish you knew how much i hate you. all the time i was with you i was pretending to like you. i didn't want to hurt you. i took one look at you and, sure enough, i agreed. i couldn't say no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    why? first of all, no matter how much i say no, you wouldn't let me take another breath unless i say yes. another reason is, you're my friend. no matter what we've been through, we've been through that together. but still, i can't trust you anymore. and i hope you won't abuse this chance i'm giving you. i can't afford to die again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    i know. i'm gullible. i let people walk all over me. and that's the reason you killed me. you knew i'd fall for it. please don't do it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                        from someone who hates you a lot,&lt;br /&gt;                                                         dea&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113661507861477427?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113661507861477427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113661507861477427' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113661507861477427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113661507861477427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/01/dear-l-you-came-into-my-life-one-day.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113660397704368977</id><published>2006-01-07T11:02:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-07T11:19:37.043+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>a second chance at life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's how i try to live my life and how i try to treat other people. i don't know why but no matter how much i hate a person, if he/she dies, i'm gonna miss him/her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have a love/hate relationship with my mom. i know what it is that she does that i hate, and if she passes away, i will miss those things. to avoid hating her more, i try to think that my mom has been given another chance at life because i missed her so much. it works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, it's the least i can do for the person who brought me to this world and brought me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so give all of your loved ones a hug. you never know when they'll go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's a cliche, i know, but bear with me. i can't think of a good line.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113660397704368977?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113660397704368977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113660397704368977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113660397704368977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113660397704368977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2006/01/second-chance-at-life-thats-how-i-try_06.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113513889002906058</id><published>2005-12-21T12:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T12:21:30.036+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i'm confused... :|&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when you love someone, you have to set them free, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but what about those stories where someone chases a person he/she "loves" and when they find that person, they will do anything for that person to love them, claiming that they can't live without that person. but that wouldn't love because the person who chases might be walking on fire just for that person to love him back and the girl would be forced to love him because she doesn't want anyone getting hurt because of her. that would be stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in the first place, the guy shouldn't be chasing the girl and force her to love him back. he should endure the pain of not being with the girl because that's what love is all about. it's not about being happy because you have everything you want, it's about being happy for the person you love when he/she is happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stupid love stories... &gt;:|&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113513889002906058?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113513889002906058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113513889002906058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113513889002906058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113513889002906058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/12/im-confused.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113479688747372525</id><published>2005-12-17T13:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-17T13:21:27.473+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>you know what? it's pretty cool if you find out that one of your friends has a crush on your crush too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;asteEeg kaya kasi at least crushable nga siya at hindi lang ikaw ang nagsasabi nun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pero, masakit pag ang tagal tagal mo nang crush yung crush mo pero walang nangyayari. pero yung kaibigan mong ngayon ngayon lang nagkacrush sa kanya e may namumuong kung ano na.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;siyempre magseselos ka. pero bilang kaibigan magpaparaya ka. tutal crush lang naman at mas importante ang kaibigan mo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pero paano kung hindi lang basta crush o obssession? kailangan mo bang mamili? sino pipiliin mo? ano, napapaisip ka? bakit ko nga ba kayo tinatanong? e bakit niyo nga ba binabasa to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oo na, wala lang akong magawa...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;napagisip-isip ko lang, baka kasi umabot na ako sa lagay na yan. pero buti na lang, hindi pa...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sige laro na ako sims 2...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yar! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113479688747372525?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113479688747372525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113479688747372525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113479688747372525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113479688747372525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/12/you-know-what-its-pretty-cool-if-you.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113472167586293447</id><published>2005-12-16T15:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T16:27:55.870+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>never underestimate the power of pirated cd's!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mga doOods! may sims2 university na ako!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;alam ko, i shouldn't be buying pirated cd's, pero ala akong pera pambili ng original, P1,500 tapos yung pirated P150 lang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ang saya saya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sige maglalaro na ako!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113472167586293447?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113472167586293447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113472167586293447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113472167586293447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113472167586293447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/12/never-underestimate-power-of-pirated.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113453344412440266</id><published>2005-12-14T12:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T17:03:03.020+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>birthday ng baby sistah ko...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gela pangalan niya...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hay, tatanda na siya, pati ako tatanda na rin ako... :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LALANG!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113453344412440266?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113453344412440266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113453344412440266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113453344412440266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113453344412440266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/12/birthday-ng-baby-sistah-ko.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113446384283495447</id><published>2005-12-13T15:52:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T16:50:42.843+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Rar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes i feel like i'm the black sheep of the family, literally. i'm the little sheep who always wears black while my sisters and mom wear pink. they always say i dress ugly because i always wear black. i've been trying to compromise by wearing skirts and the color pink i don't feel comfortable in every once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lately i've been designing my old shirts and i always put the phrase, "Rockista Unleashed." yesterday, my sister told me, "bakit ba puro rock, rock nilalagay mo? saka bakit mo ginugutay-gutay t-shirts mo?"&lt;br /&gt;grr... cute kaya! ano bang problema nya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to calm myself, i just tell myself, "they just don't appreciate my style."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to tell them that how i dress shows who i am. i don't like wearing skirts and pink stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i know a time will come when they can accept my own way of dressing up. my mom is starting to do so already.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113446384283495447?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113446384283495447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113446384283495447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113446384283495447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113446384283495447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/12/rar-sometimes-i-feel-like-im-black_12.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113438763082918971</id><published>2005-12-13T11:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-12T21:03:50.206+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>my favorite song sums up my thoughts today: "photograph by nickelback"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Photograph&lt;br /&gt;by Nickelback&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at this photograph&lt;br /&gt;Every time I do it makes me laugh&lt;br /&gt;How did our eyes get so red?&lt;br /&gt;And what the hell is on Joey’s head?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;This is where I grew up&lt;br /&gt;I think the present owner fixed it up&lt;br /&gt;I never knew we ever went without&lt;br /&gt;The second floor is hard for sneakin’ out&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;This is where I went to school&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time had better things to do&lt;br /&gt;Criminal record says I broke in twice&lt;br /&gt;I must’ve done it half a dozen times&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I wonder if it’s too late&lt;br /&gt;Should I go back and try to graduate&lt;br /&gt;Life’s better now than it was back then&lt;br /&gt;If I was them, I wouldn’t let me in&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Every memory of looking out the back door&lt;br /&gt;I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor&lt;br /&gt;It’s hard to say&lt;br /&gt;It’s time to say it&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye, Goodbye&lt;br /&gt;Every memory of walking out the front door&lt;br /&gt;I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It's hard to say &lt;br /&gt;It’s time to say it&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye, Goodbye&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Remember the old arcade&lt;br /&gt;Blew every dollar that we ever made&lt;br /&gt;The cops hated us hangin’ out&lt;br /&gt;They say somebody went and burned it down&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;We used to listen to the radio&lt;br /&gt;And sing along with every song we’d know&lt;br /&gt;We said someday we’d find out how it feels&lt;br /&gt;To sing to more than just the steering wheel&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Kim’s the first girl I kissed&lt;br /&gt;I was so nervous that I nearly missed&lt;br /&gt;She’s had a couple of kids since then&lt;br /&gt;I haven’t seen her since God knows when&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I miss that town&lt;br /&gt;I miss their faces&lt;br /&gt;You can’t erase&lt;br /&gt;You can’t replace it&lt;br /&gt;I miss it now&lt;br /&gt;I can’t believe it&lt;br /&gt;So hard to stay&lt;br /&gt;Too hard to leave it&lt;br /&gt;If I could relive those days&lt;br /&gt;I know the one thing that would never change&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Look at this photograph&lt;br /&gt;Every time I do it makes me laugh&lt;br /&gt;Every time I do it makes me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*cge, inaamin ko na, tamad lng tlaga ako... :|&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113438763082918971?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113438763082918971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113438763082918971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113438763082918971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113438763082918971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/12/my-favorite-song-sums-up-my-thoughts.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113438686985569590</id><published>2005-12-12T19:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-12T19:27:49.863+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>have yourself a merry little christmas pop...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is the first time i'm gonna be spending christmas without you. but don't worry, there won't be any tears. in fact i've been used to all these separation that i almost feel like i've grown without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i remember the time when you were always around all the time. i was only starting to enjoy it when suddenly you had to leave for Cebu. it was hard. i remember that day, we went to Star City so you could make up for it. my sisters were having the time of their lives, i wasn't. i wasn't enjoying anything because i hated amusement parks and i knew that when we get exhausted and go to sleep, when we wake, you wouldn't be there anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as time went by, i got used to you coming home and going away, always taking away a piece of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't miss you that much anymore, there's YM now and text messages. i'm cool about everything now. sometimes i feel i'm really talking to you in person when we have YM conversations. you never fail to make me laugh. thank God, there's webcam now, we get to see your face, that ugly face of yours which mom says is handsome. just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but still, nothing beats that face i see when i wake up early Christmas morning, smiling and saying, "tingnan nyo sa baba, baka nag-iwan na nga regalo si Santa Claus."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;merry christmas papa...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;distance doesn't matter,&lt;br /&gt;memories do.&lt;br /&gt;rembering your laughter,&lt;br /&gt;your smiles too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113438686985569590?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113438686985569590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113438686985569590' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113438686985569590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113438686985569590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/12/have-yourself-merry-little-christmas.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113429733692810629</id><published>2005-12-12T13:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-12T19:34:59.186+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>nobody does that to my sister!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nakakainis nga naman talaga ang ibang mga tao noh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kasi ganito yun, dun sa classroom nung kapatid ko, naglalaro sila na may patay-patayan ng ilaw. tapos pumasok yung kapatid ko, e pinatay talaga nila yung ilaw, hindi alam ng kapatid ko kaya binuksan niya.&lt;br /&gt;e di sinigawan siya, e di niya maintindihan kasi may nagsasabi na patayin yung ilaw, tapos meron ding nagsasabi na iwang bukas.&lt;br /&gt;tapos yung kaklase niya nainis na yata, e yung kapatid ko nasa gitna ng pinto na kapag sinara yung pinto maiipit siya, sinipa ng kaklase niya yung pinto ng malakas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nakakainis talaga kasi ang payat nung kapatid kung yun, tapos sadya pa yung pagsipa!!! ayan! nabugbog yung katawan nung kapatid ko tapos parang natrauma kasi may sinasabing mga salita na hindi maintindihan...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AARGH!!! sana yung batang yun bagsakan ng!!! GRRRNESS!!! wag na nga! kapal ng mukha niya!!! bahala na lang si God sa kanya... :|&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the wall of sibling rivalry&lt;br /&gt;torn down by an awakening...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113429733692810629?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113429733692810629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113429733692810629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113429733692810629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113429733692810629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/12/nobody-does-that-to-my-sister.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-113420805935831691</id><published>2005-12-09T17:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-10T17:47:39.360+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Rockista Unleashed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ito na yung bago kong theme ng blog ko. nababanas na kasi ako sa mga posts ko dati, masyadong pormal. may format pa nga yun eh. at least mas ma-eexpress ko na ang magulong ako! yehey... :D!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oonga pala... kaya rockista kasi, uh... mahilig ako sa rock (hindi yung bato na rock). kaya lang kasi sa pananamit madalas din ako magpalda kasi napipilitan ako... nanay ko kasi eh... tapos lagi akong nakakatanggap ng damit na ayaw ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pero, buti na lang blog di kailangan kulor fenk at maraming plawirs... i like it better this way...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-113420805935831691?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/113420805935831691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=113420805935831691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113420805935831691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/113420805935831691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/12/rockista-unleashed_09.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-112935239571729905</id><published>2005-10-15T12:49:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-15T12:59:55.730+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>needs to find a place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i used to think that God was someone which we were obliged to worship. i used to attend masses without knowing the real purpose of waking up early for it or standing up for so long in the afternoon listening to priest while bearing mosquito bites. i used to think i was well off with God doing that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i was wrong. in fact, i was lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hear people's testimony of being enlightened when they found God during our retreats and recollections. i would ask myself if i felt enlightened because God was always with me. that's what people say, God is everywhere. how else could they find God?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then it came to me that it wasn't enough to just hear mass without knowing what the priest was saying. mass used to bore me. it wasn't enough to know him as a supreme being and fear him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;during my first year in high school, somewhere during the end of our school year, i lost my expensive and hardbound earth science book. i panicked because in our school, since it is a public school, our books are just borrowed and must be returned at the end of the school year. if it is lost, they will ask for a replacement and they will not accept money. it was expensive and they said it can only be bought in another country. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i prayed to God and asked him that i would find it. i also promised Him that i would strive to be closer to Him. a classmate returned it because he found it in our front lobby. but i broke my promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i also remember during summer that my mom and i went to my school because our guidance counselor wants to talk to me about my failing grade. when i woke up that morning, my back hurt. as we were near my school, half of my body hurt whenever i move. when we were at my school and the interview started, i didn't want to laugh at the remarks because my whole body hurt whenever i did. i thought this was it, i going to be paralyzed and die. i asked God to spare me because people told me God gives people what they wish for. that's how i knew God as a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when we came home, i slept because i couldn't move much now and even my lungs were starting to get paralyzed, i was finding it hard to breathe. i thought that if  was going to die, at least i was going to die in my sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i was lucky, no, i was blessed, i woke up feeling alright. i thanked God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but after that, i sort of drifted away from Him and saw Him as i saw Him before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then somewhere in the third or fourth month of my second year in high school i developed rashes or allergies or something. it was horrible. it was very itchy and whenever i took a bath, the pain was almost unbearable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;again i turned to God. again He granted my wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but this time i wanted to make sure i do something for Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i tried to listen to the Holy Mass. i tried to digest whatever God was telling me. i tried to pray with my heart. i tried to mean everything i say in prayer. and so i learned to "pray" the rosary. i used to get bored of the rosary but now i always want to pray the rosary. i already feel like i'm talking to God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just recently i've been having a lot of itchy spots. i was afraid that i have dengue. i asked God to heal me because i felt like i was being faced with Death once again. and then my itchy spots were getting less and less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thanks to my family and friends i have found a friend, a father, a comforter and everything else i've been looking for in God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;indeed, i felt enlightened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;guide us with your grace&lt;br /&gt;give us faith so we'll be safe...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-112935239571729905?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/112935239571729905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=112935239571729905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/112935239571729905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/112935239571729905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/10/needs-to-find-place-i-used_112935239571729905.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-112748885050965964</id><published>2005-09-23T22:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T23:20:50.516+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i'm sorry i slammed the door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have just read my friend's blog whose latest post was about two of her friends, tricia and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she posted it because we were sort of drifting apart. ok not sort of. i was jealous of tricia because i felt that marianne was giving tricia more of her time and attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it all started when i played volleyball with some of my friends leaving her behind. i forgot to tell her. while i was playing, i saw her with tricia, strolling. i thought it was ok. she(marianne) has the right to make friends with other people. it was still ok with me then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the next day i went to marianne to chat with her, as usual. but then tricia came and, during that time it was how i saw it, took marianne away from me. i decided to leave them alone thinking marianne doesn't need me. i sort of hated tricia for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have to admit, it was my fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've given it a thought and i made my decision. i would just keep a distance from her(marianne) just so my pet, the green-eyed monster, wouldn't hurt her or tricia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as a friend, i wanted her to be happy, but at the same time, i wanted her to be happy with me. i forced myself to keep my angry butt out of their friendship. i would just ruin it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but marianne didn't want this to happen. she wanted to find a way to compromise. i thought that there was no other way to make her happy than leaving her with tricia when all the while i wasn't really making her happy. i was disappointing her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then things started becoming better because i started hanging out with tricia. she wasn't as bad as i thought she was. she was fun to be with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this was what marianne really wanted. this was also what i wanted. i owe it all to her for opening my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had grown too comfortable with marianne that i never wanted a moment not to be with her. i wanted her all to myself. she opened my eyes to the possibility of a friend in other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess i judge people too much. i hardly know them at all. i guess i've closed the door too hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-112748885050965964?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/112748885050965964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=112748885050965964' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/112748885050965964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/112748885050965964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/09/im-sorry-i-slammed-door-i-have-just.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-112700298996837718</id><published>2005-09-18T06:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T08:23:09.976+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>broken stereo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i always thought i would never have a crush on a hearthrob. i stereotyped them as 'mayabang' and that they thought everybody has a crush on them. i even thought i had good taste because i never had a crush on any of the people our school would consider a hearthrob. i was proud of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then he came along. he was a hearthrob of an upper batch. the moment i saw him, i quickly despised him thinking he was going to be another one of those persons who walks the corridors feeling everyone would be looking at him and thinking that they were his admirers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then my friend told me she had a crush on him. i tried my best to hide my sort-of-violent reaction. i told her it was okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aside from that, i've heard stories of him being a "feeler". it strengthen my opinion about hearthrobs. now, my mind was really set on never having a crush on him. i never thought i would do the opposite of what i thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it was that day when i saw him alone. i saw him as an angel who came down from heaven(it's corny, i know but this was really how i saw him.) i kept watching him from afar because i felt that when i judged him, i overlooked a few things. and then i smiled, i didn't even know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i got back to our dormitory with a strange feeling. at first i didn't what it was. and then the following day i was shocked of the naked truth. i have a crush on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's not such a big deal with other people, but to me it is. i broke the rules i made myself which i silently promised to abide with. it was too good to be true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hated myself for having a crush on him, but i hated myself more for denying it at first. i guess i just had to accept it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but then i realized the good thing about it. yes, i broke the promise i myself made but it gave me a chance to look beyond what people looked like. i also gave people a chance to be seen beyond society's labels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if i have a broken VHS player, i would go to the appliance center to replace it with a new one. something much better. a DVD player perhaps?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-112700298996837718?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/112700298996837718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=112700298996837718' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/112700298996837718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/112700298996837718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/09/broken-stereo-i-always-thought-i-would.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img159.imageshack.us/img159/2259/freaky4ky.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15885241.post-112522695067157649</id><published>2005-08-28T18:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-28T19:58:57.660+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>tolits&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me! me! me! it's always my fault!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how come it's always my fault?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just this afternoon we went to SM and i asked my mom if we could buy a small cake just to celebrate my birthday. she agreed. before i could go to red ribbon, i heard her say, "dito lang kami maghihintay sa'yo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i bought this coffee crunch cake, my favorite and hurriedly went back. when we got there, they were no were in sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i kept asking myself what it was they said before buying the cake. i remember that i heard her say they will wait for us right here, where i was standing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my sister and i were already searching the places near our "meeting place" but they were nowhere to be found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after some time, i was already getting pissed when mama came standing in front of us looking angry. i was getting ready to hear "my fault" reprimands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;was it my fault i didn't hear it clearly? was it my fault that i was already hurrying for us to get home that i didn't catch mama's words?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when we got to the exit of the mall, it was raining. my mom said, "ayan tuloy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh! so it was my fault that it was raining! it was always my fault! maybe if theworld ended, it was still my fault! you may already be tired of hearing the words "my" and "fault." so am i. i wish there was a day with mom that i wouldn't hear those words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've noticed that recently, all my mom ever do is notice all the bad things about me. sure it helps but if a parent overdoes it, the child will lose self-confidence bcause of all the bad things he is hearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know that i am already trying my best to please her. i told her i got a high score in my physics periodic exam and all she says is "oh."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh what? oh no? oh yes? or maybe oh d**n! i don't know. i never got to. then as a reward, she bought me a black shirt. i liked it. but it would never do for the damage done during the years she always blamed me for the mistakes which was supposed to be natural.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i was years younger, i thought of washing my own clothes just to lessen the burden. i thought my mom would be happy because i took the initiative to do so. when i was through, i asked her where the hangers were kept with a smirk on my face waiting for her to praise me or at least smile back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but no! she didn't! she scolded me for not knowing where the hangers were! it was always like that. one time she asked me to cook banana cue. i was happy because i was going to cook. but i ended up burning it. she scolded me again. right then and there i wanted to tell her, "sorry! it was just that nobody took the initiative to teach me how! sure it was simple but as a kid i don't grow up instantly knowing how to cook!" but instead, i controlled myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;good thing my sisters were there. only the three of us ate the burnt bananacue and they kept on insisting it tasted alright and that it was good. i thanked God that at least there are still people who appreciate what i do to them. i always quarrel with my sisters but also i was trying to be a good sister to them. they always there for me saying it wasn't my fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of course by now you would've known that i hated my mom for along time. there was a time when i didn't but it was only temporary because that time, i was hardly talking to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;right now, i still have a grudge on my mom. she was the primary reason i wanted to commit suicide but also the primary reason i didn't do it. i wanted to show her i wasn't supid or dumb. someday i will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but right now, all i could wish for is that even just for one weekend spent with her, i wouldn't be always be ako, ako, lagi na lang ako.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't want to be like him...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15885241-112522695067157649?l=pistachioboy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/feeds/112522695067157649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15885241&amp;postID=112522695067157649' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/112522695067157649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15885241/posts/default/112522695067157649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistachioboy.blogspot.com/2005/08/tolits-me-me-me-its-always-my-fault.html' title=''/><author><name>pistachio.boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01274325233068670517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' 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