<?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-5321461</id><updated>2012-01-07T02:34:44.739+08:00</updated><title type='text'>superficiality</title><subtitle type='html'>justine.
15th april 1989.
khs.dhs.tjc.
dhsco.tjsoccer.
don't ever let anything get away from your destiny~*</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>802</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7824004043976840664</id><published>2011-11-10T16:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T16:29:43.958+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Just so i wont bore myself out...

looking for partners in crime, do let me know if you are interested to check out these places with meeee!=)

Antoinette
Apparently it serves delicious pancakes.
have yet to try though.

30 Penhas Road, Singapore



Epicurious Cafe @ the Rail Mall
Famous for its brunches!!!




Hummerstons Restaurant
11 Unity Street#02-14 Robertson Walk
It apparently serves the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7824004043976840664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7824004043976840664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/11/just-so-i-wont-bore-myself-out.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2701/4462826320_47cc400dd9_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-2559456896651399248</id><published>2011-10-10T23:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T23:47:02.553+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“Somehow I can’t believe there are any heights that can’t be scaled by a man who knows the secret of making dreams come true. This special secret, it seems to me, can be summarized in four C’s. They are Curiosity, Confidence, Courage, and Constancy and the greatest of these is Confidence. When you believe a thing, believe it all the way, implicitly and unquestionably.”
—  Walter E. Disney


</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2559456896651399248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2559456896651399248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/10/somehow-i-cant-believe-there-are-any.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4PfOvllhhAs/TpMQQG3jRNI/AAAAAAAAIHA/XLKL4TCGWRE/s72-c/pain-t.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8888793303017236935</id><published>2011-10-10T23:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T23:06:39.980+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Day 1.


























Day 2.


Best friends, indeed.

pics credit to my mini one, 1/2 of the blessed duo.:)</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8888793303017236935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8888793303017236935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/10/day-1.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-9128437572522001635</id><published>2011-08-06T04:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-06T04:45:26.194+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“…I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.”
—  Haruki Murakami


yes i know it's 4am now,
but somehow i like the peace and serenity at 4am.

been on a hiatus not cause i was busy,
i was just occupied and somehow </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9128437572522001635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9128437572522001635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-have-this-strange-feeling-that-im-not.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ScdQzaI1DSQ/TjxQ2YMdzsI/AAAAAAAAIG8/BgJOhPAL9f0/s72-c/getgoing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-6944615145621985786</id><published>2011-06-23T21:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-23T21:05:15.570+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“I think it happens to everyone as they grow up. You find out who you are and what you want, and then you realize that people you’ve known forever don’t see things the way you do. And so you keep the wonderful memories but find yourself moving on. It’s perfectly normal.”
— Nicholas Sparks (True Believer)


words,actions, words.
there are many ways to saying something,doing something.
likewise </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6944615145621985786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6944615145621985786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-think-it-happens-to-everyone-as-they.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7014658867451780919</id><published>2011-06-17T18:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T18:42:06.295+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
words.they make a whole lot of difference.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7014658867451780919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7014658867451780919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/06/words.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-4139734917572524005</id><published>2011-06-17T18:31:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T18:32:13.827+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>



“Sometimes, truth isn’t good enough; sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded.”
—  The Dark Night


what happens when assumptions take the wheel and willingness is left out in the cold?
the heart freezes, hardens by first forming a thin layer of ice at the top.

the overwhelming helplessness,
accompanied by the claws of fear.
the sudden surge of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4139734917572524005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4139734917572524005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/06/sometimes-truth-isnt-good-enough.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mh_9EG-UcaE/TfspygFf6cI/AAAAAAAAIG4/OkedlU6KXGY/s72-c/dareme.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-5962316525313960836</id><published>2011-06-03T16:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-03T16:11:30.740+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”
— </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5962316525313960836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5962316525313960836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/06/your-time-is-limited-so-dont-waste-it.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-keRjfLEXtYI/TeiUPHpGShI/AAAAAAAAIGw/BKXOS83G7zc/s72-c/youcant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-3824660123460643382</id><published>2011-05-22T01:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T01:44:49.457+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“Learn to let go of the past, and recognize that every day won’t be sunny. And when you find yourself lost in the darkness and despair, remember it’s only in the black of night that you see the stars, and those stars will lead you back home. So don’t be afraid to make mistakes, to stumble and fall, because most of the time, the greatest rewards come from doing the things that scare you the most</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3824660123460643382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3824660123460643382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/05/learn-to-let-go-of-past-and-recognize.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O6e53WYwUWk/Tdf4By4zSzI/AAAAAAAAIGs/NJ5eZHbZFH8/s72-c/no2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-5294304136270260648</id><published>2011-05-22T01:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T01:31:24.361+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“The faster we live, the less emotion is left in the world. The slower we live, the deeper we feel the world around us.”
—  Stanko Abadžic


why are we always so eager to reach the end of things.
thinking that the faster we end,
the more time we have to sit back and relax,
enjoy the scenery,smell the flowers.
assuming that whatever we passed by in the process of the mad rush,
could be revisited</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5294304136270260648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5294304136270260648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/05/faster-we-live-less-emotion-is-left-in.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rxD8s9j6nA0/TdfyOFRX5eI/AAAAAAAAIGo/D7nuN3DC-uI/s72-c/steps+towalkaway.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-6760611062446554047</id><published>2011-04-27T02:39:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-27T02:39:37.134+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


‘Love is a temporary madness; it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of eternal passion. That is just being in love,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6760611062446554047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6760611062446554047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/04/love-is-temporary-madness-it-erupts.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M75xmTlfv8A/TbcRN2AKn-I/AAAAAAAAIGg/HjkG8rIl0tw/s72-c/i+love+you+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-9148708982633418230</id><published>2011-04-27T01:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-27T01:50:24.476+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“I said that the world is absurd, but I was too hasty. This world in itself is not reasonable, that is all that can be said. But what is absurd is the confrontation of this irrational and the wild longing for clarity whose call echoes in the human heart. The absurd depends as much on man as on the world. For the moment it is all that links them together. It binds them to one to the other as </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9148708982633418230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9148708982633418230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-said-that-world-is-absurd-but-i-was.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BWieAwgKFDY/TbcBWZvuadI/AAAAAAAAIGc/1NDg8jxcUqc/s72-c/the+heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7846906983582193173</id><published>2011-04-27T01:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-27T01:07:54.847+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“Add love, and a person might do something crazy. Add love, and all the lines between the right and wrong were bound to disappear.”—  The Tenth Circle, Jodi Picoult
and i thank You for adding love into my life.
i know its a bit lag.but this birthday was indeed a little different for me.unlike my 21st where i got to choose who i wanted to celebrate it with.this year i decided to just let it flow</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7846906983582193173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7846906983582193173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/04/add-love-and-person-might-do-something.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GQGZaOH7pB0/TbSBmxDLjOI/AAAAAAAAIEw/WJKSYzs8Izs/s72-c/the+biggest+risks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-2778178932017021179</id><published>2011-04-14T19:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T19:55:51.997+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get — only what you are expecting to give — which is everything. What you will receive in return varies. But it really has no connection with what you give. You give because you love and cannot help giving.”
—  Katharine Hepburn


assumptions.
expectations.

two things life would be better without.
the channels of bitterness,
the source of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2778178932017021179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2778178932017021179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/04/love-has-nothing-to-do-with-what-you.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AplE0_YCNy8/TabalLekroI/AAAAAAAAIEs/CZn08dmGG9k/s72-c/differentlight.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-2377752460183502157</id><published>2011-04-11T18:13:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T18:14:30.978+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

'Naked I came from my mother's womb,and naked shall i return there.The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away;Blessed be the name of the Lord.
...And the LORD restored Job’s losses when he prayed for his friends. Indeed the LORD gave Job twice as much as he had before. Now the LORD blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning;  
So Job died, old and full of days.'


-Book of Job
and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2377752460183502157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2377752460183502157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/04/naked-i-came-from-my-mothers-womb-and.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-46jOy42IKFw/TaLUQfxo_FI/AAAAAAAAIEo/oxPdux32gTc/s72-c/afraid3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1108201307134519559</id><published>2011-04-11T17:56:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T20:41:17.553+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“Closing your eyes isn’t going to change anything. Nothing’s going to disappear just because you can’t see what’s going on. In fact, things will be even worse the next time you open your eyes. That’s the kind of world we live in, Mr Nakata. Keep your eyes wide open. Only a coward closes his eyes. Closing your eyes and plugging up your ears won’t make time stand still.”
— Kafka on the Shore by </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1108201307134519559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1108201307134519559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/04/closing-your-eyes-isnt-going-to-change.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PZ6-8GC2gtg/TaLOidjTAuI/AAAAAAAAIEk/42-XcdEeF3A/s72-c/pain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-330878282771312334</id><published>2011-04-11T17:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T17:46:52.032+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“You can’t control when you lose your heart. The only thing you can do is trust - trust that the person who has your heart realizes its value.”—  Grey’s Anatomy










































































and so the deed is done.it's been a long journey,the tears, the joy, the laughter, the fatigue, the sweat.to be loved, to be misunderstood, to be forgiven.we've </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/330878282771312334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/330878282771312334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/04/you-cant-control-when-you-lose-your.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9jWC0m0dn3A/TaK-DGbDRQI/AAAAAAAAH_8/Imum4r5A1O0/s72-c/elephant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8726297482741970281</id><published>2011-04-06T23:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T23:33:39.052+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“We need quiet time to examine our lives openly and honestly. Spending quiet time alone gives your mind an opportunity to renew itself and create order.”
—  Susan Taylor


enough of quiet time alone,
or rather more than enough.
i need the order, the drive,
and i need it fast.

argh.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8726297482741970281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8726297482741970281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/04/we-need-quiet-time-to-examine-our-lives.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pF4Zprwp6b0/TZyG4HZMDeI/AAAAAAAAH_4/bpaoX_FbKYI/s72-c/muchness.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8315950974893683343</id><published>2011-03-23T00:36:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T01:52:57.538+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“I don’t want to be little again. But at the same time I do. I want to be me like I was then, and me as I am now, and me like I’ll be in the future. I want to be me and nothing but me. I want to be crazy as the moon, wild as the wind and still as the earth. I want to be every single thing it’s possible to be. I’m growing and I don’t know how to grow. I’m living but I haven’t started living yet.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8315950974893683343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8315950974893683343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-dont-want-to-be-little-again.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-gZ38bghpL9E/TYjMKOUJTBI/AAAAAAAAH_0/mrgHGnJ1Y0w/s72-c/clouds.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8546162791248378611</id><published>2011-03-21T19:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T19:18:03.203+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold onto something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because it’s so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn’t come back. You’re </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8546162791248378611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8546162791248378611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/03/sometimes-it-seems-harder-you-try-to.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-_A1YcGSxdtg/TYcyoU89vgI/AAAAAAAAH_o/L1d1mLhM50g/s72-c/wrap.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7730048003965208916</id><published>2011-03-12T12:25:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T12:26:11.154+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

Maneck studied Beggarmaster’s excessive chatter, his attempt to hide his heartache. Why did humans do that to their feelings? Whether it was anger or love or sadness, they always tried to put something else forward in its place. And then there were those who pretended their emotions were bigger and grander than anyone else’s. A little annoyance they acted out like a gigantic rage; where a smile</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7730048003965208916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7730048003965208916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/03/maneck-studied-beggarmasters-excessive.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/--oOzgnjX48s/TXroDGvuonI/AAAAAAAAH_k/vhgDpxxnEsY/s72-c/tragedy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-9074747650129241245</id><published>2011-03-03T16:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T16:47:17.097+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“Everybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they’ve all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe.”-Nail Gaiman  -The Sandman


..and i've got a few.
how i wish these worlds could come true.
maybe </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9074747650129241245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9074747650129241245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/03/everybody-has-secret-world-inside-of.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-JqpAt8ybdyY/TW9PBI9e7iI/AAAAAAAAH_Q/4RbeCJzNKCA/s72-c/lookup1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7516170247608208557</id><published>2011-03-03T16:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T16:46:53.586+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>





“My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry; to get my work done and try to love somebody and have the courage to accept the love in return.”
—  Maya Angelou


i finally found the courage..
and i'm glad i did. ♥


</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7516170247608208557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7516170247608208557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-great-hope-is-to-laugh-as-much-as-i.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IgWNGWtIpx4/TW9U4dl9kVI/AAAAAAAAH_g/VLfJOpUwqZk/s72-c/love14.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1114073180850109936</id><published>2011-02-23T16:34:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T16:36:28.263+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“Music is a total constant. That’s why we have such a strong visceral connection to it, you know? Because a song can take you back instantly to a moment, or a place, or even a person. No matter what else has changed in your or the world, that one song says the same, just like that moment.”—  Sarah Dessen (Just Listen)

life is like a piece of music.
we always encounter parts that require a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1114073180850109936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1114073180850109936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/02/music-is-total-constant.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2E22IitGwuM/TWTAJrZKxoI/AAAAAAAAH_E/iPpMjNwxBPg/s72-c/inspiration.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-40078323003602496</id><published>2011-02-17T16:42:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T16:50:06.295+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. 
Delicious Ambiguity.”
—  Gilda Radner


you will always find the evidence that supports what you wanna </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/40078323003602496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/40078323003602496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-wanted-perfect-ending.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8viNv3Xb9A/TVzayqCuc_I/AAAAAAAAH-0/t2mqIi3j2Is/s72-c/lookup.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-2955529155053361828</id><published>2011-02-09T02:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T02:51:02.304+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“There is neither happiness nor unhappiness in this world; there is only the comparison of one state with another. Only a man who has felt ultimate despair is capable of feeling ultimate bliss. It is necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live…..the sum of all human wisdom will be contained in these two words: Wait and Hope.”
—  Alexandre Dumas


two words i </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2955529155053361828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2955529155053361828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/02/there-is-neither-happiness-nor.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TVGQIKJWr0I/AAAAAAAAH-w/69OGZWHmzR8/s72-c/understood.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-133263996802780607</id><published>2011-02-07T19:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T19:08:01.606+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul and you learn love doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t always mean security. And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t always promises and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and and your eyes ahead with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child. And </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/133263996802780607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/133263996802780607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/02/after-while-you-learn-subtle-difference.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TU_OMc8mrGI/AAAAAAAAH-s/J4q2MZQOiyY/s72-c/whatyousee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1242394281635583741</id><published>2011-02-07T18:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T18:48:43.032+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

I wanna live my life with the volume on full”—  Eddie Veddar
this year i'm gonna set a new standard,i'm gonna cross 15,i'm gonna produce better fruits,i'm gonna go the extra miles instead of mile,i'm gonna discipline myself even more,i'm gonna draw nearer to You,closer than ever befored.
this year i'm gonna get distinctions,i'm gonna earn my car new rims and a bonnet,i'm gonna start "tithing" </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1242394281635583741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1242394281635583741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-wanna-live-my-life-with-volume-on.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TU_BR2Ei9oI/AAAAAAAAH-o/tmhNdy7JEB8/s72-c/aimforawesome.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-5210835085615710930</id><published>2011-01-26T02:13:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T02:14:37.628+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
one of Your greatest ways to say 'I love you.'</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5210835085615710930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5210835085615710930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/01/one-of-my-greatest-reminders-of-your.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TT8Rz7X75MI/AAAAAAAAH-c/TyP1Mbpwj0c/s72-c/IMG_7052.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7675526343523623493</id><published>2011-01-26T02:07:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T02:39:00.041+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“We’ve all grown up, and there’s no denying that. But it’s tough to tell if in that growing up, we’ve simply grown apart.”
— Unknown



and i thought i grew out of my stupidity,
moved on,
grew up and maturity caught up.

it just had to happen to see if the transformation was genuine.
and it was...to a certain extent.

funny how it didn't seem to matter as much as it did back then,
funny how i'm</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7675526343523623493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7675526343523623493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/01/you-cant-control-when-you-lose-your.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TT8Pj2l3RrI/AAAAAAAAH-U/JqxXGHWqRlw/s72-c/sorry.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-5715078977131280281</id><published>2011-01-14T14:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T14:32:56.600+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“And because there is something they can’t see people think it has to be special, because people always think there is something special about what they can’t see, like the dark side of the moon, or the other side of a black hole, or in the dark when they wake up at night and they’re scared.”
—  Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

it's funny how we desire to grow up</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5715078977131280281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5715078977131280281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/01/and-because-there-is-something-they.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TS_jjpdHIVI/AAAAAAAAH-Q/BduK0ay47ts/s72-c/doodle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8633562240403277547</id><published>2011-01-13T03:22:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-13T03:23:04.107+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

"Romantic love is an addiction; a wonderful addiction when it is going well, a horrible one when it is going poorly.-Helen Fisher"
yes,love is hormonal.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8633562240403277547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8633562240403277547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/01/romantic-love-is-addiction-wonderful.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TS3-qW9eccI/AAAAAAAAH-I/dIT-pUDmauY/s72-c/love12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-918587752952985592</id><published>2011-01-13T03:03:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-13T03:31:38.635+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.”
—  Sylvia Plath


dreams.desires.wants.
the psychological materialization of things to satisfy our moments of weakness,our moments of inadequacy.
it allows us to indulge in our own perfect world,just the way we want it.
it's scary how overtime,this mental</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/918587752952985592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/918587752952985592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/01/life-has-been-some-combination-of-fairy.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TS399Tl1N9I/AAAAAAAAH-E/vKgNdqlJM2s/s72-c/real.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-2275838510102635378</id><published>2011-01-13T02:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-13T02:21:46.479+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

We were gonna make a whole world like this. Now, everyone used to come here, but you know... you know what it feels like when all your teeth are falling out really slowly and you don't realize and then you notice that, well, they're really far apart. And then one day... you don't have any teeth anymore. -Where the Wild things are.


feels like i have all the time in the world,
while everyone's </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2275838510102635378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2275838510102635378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/01/we-were-gonna-make-whole-world-like.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TS3t0Ky3J7I/AAAAAAAAH98/vm-fVzgAUgI/s72-c/every+moment.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-5473033064898120415</id><published>2011-01-04T03:06:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T06:19:46.628+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“Slow down and enjoy life. It’s not only the scenery you miss by going too fast — you also miss the sense of where you are going and why.”—Eddie Cantor
its probably a little late for me to be doing this now that we are already in the fourth day of the year.but i just thought i wouldn't be doing 2010 justice if i just slip it under the rug or bury it in a worm's hole just cause i'm late.yes i </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5473033064898120415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5473033064898120415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/01/slow-down-and-enjoy-life.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TSIA2sDy4CI/AAAAAAAAH9w/q-BSfgzMyA0/s72-c/challenge.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7941767944888711637</id><published>2011-01-04T00:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T00:45:46.979+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
Love is not something you can do on your own.
every year ends on a different tone in a different way,and this gave me the right to expect so..and i was right.
my last few days of the year at home..



important people.
checked.

though it was only a 12 day trip,and cause it was only a 12 day trip,
it tugged at my string hearts to see you guys send me off.=)

so here i am at zurich airport..with </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7941767944888711637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7941767944888711637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2011/01/love-is-not-something-you-can-do-on.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TSHtDN1J6FI/AAAAAAAAH60/yNOwyDhwvsI/s72-c/colorful.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8305016221890499523</id><published>2010-12-18T23:59:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T00:03:48.352+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
When you're still waiting for the snow to fallDoesn't really feel like Christmas at all.Up above candles on air flicker,
Oh they flicker and they float.
But I'm up here holding on,
To all those chandeliers of hope...
Those Christmas lightsLight up the streetDown where the sea and city meetMay all your troubles soon be goneOh Christmas lights keep shining on...
with this song and snow,i'm </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8305016221890499523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8305016221890499523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/12/when-youre-still-waiting-for-snow-to.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TQzZYwQOEjI/AAAAAAAAH6g/K_slpXGy9d0/s72-c/tumblr_kvfrrh5C3p1qzpe8uo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8265222636628487550</id><published>2010-12-16T04:11:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T00:08:53.048+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“Love is somewhat unknown no matter how many definition you say about it. It remains to be unknown. Love may be happiness or it may be sadness; love might be the perfect gift or the worst thing in this world. But I guess love is what you say it is. But love is unknown. Like where we’ll be after life”
— Nadine Rendon


though christmas is almost here,
two weeks in exact..i'm not really feeling </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8265222636628487550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8265222636628487550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/12/love-is-somewhat-unknown-no-matter-how.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TQkNAhzHDnI/AAAAAAAAH6U/dqD2ElI0FgM/s72-c/a+gift.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-3740582812363117644</id><published>2010-12-16T02:44:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T02:48:59.215+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.”
—  Edgar Allan Poe


many would say having more is a blessing,
having more is a sign that you're favoured by God,
having more means more.
but tarry a little longer and you'll realise that sometimes having more makes feeling blessed more difficult.
the bar that you once had is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3740582812363117644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3740582812363117644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/12/sometimes-im-terrified-of-my-heart-of.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TQWdTv4gtWI/AAAAAAAAH4M/K212bYiDWoo/s72-c/bad.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-5766966080521912361</id><published>2010-12-08T02:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T02:07:09.411+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
"At some point you will realize that you have done too much for someone, that the only next possible step to do is to stop. Leave them alone. Walk away. It’s not like you’re giving up, and it’s not like you shouldn’t try. It’s just that you have to draw the line of determination from desperation. What is truly yours will eventually be yours, and what is not, no matter how hard you try, will </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5766966080521912361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5766966080521912361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/12/at-some-point-you-will-realize-that-you.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TP5uuV53noI/AAAAAAAAH4I/H5IOL2HCl7s/s72-c/melancholy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-4462242702925300671</id><published>2010-12-01T01:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T01:44:33.295+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“You never know the biggest day of your life is going to be the biggest. The days you think are going to be big ones, they’re never as big as you make them out to be in your head. It’s the regular days, the ones that start out normal, those are the days that end up being the biggest.”


my mind's been wondering around these days,
there's no start,no end, no specific direction its heading.
i do </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4462242702925300671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4462242702925300671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/12/you-never-know-biggest-day-of-your-life.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TPUw5gc6EfI/AAAAAAAAH4E/-4jzE_EeOqU/s72-c/dareme.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-6462463439437324543</id><published>2010-11-27T01:52:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T03:52:56.191+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
"The unreal is more powerful than the real,because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it."

crushed into micro bits,
you swept up the pieces and made it into a beautiful piece of art in a blink of an eye.

it was too overwhelming,
too great a thing.
sometimes when things seem too good to be true,
we find it hard to tell the difference between our imagination and God's creation.

i </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6462463439437324543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6462463439437324543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/unreal-is-more-powerful-than.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TO_rkp07whI/AAAAAAAAH4A/tNezY3AgY1I/s72-c/hope1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-5624831985332928222</id><published>2010-11-22T00:34:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T01:34:08.420+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“We didn’t talk about anything heavy or light. We were just there, together. And that was enough.”—  The Perks of Being a Wallflower
it's amazing how our actions always betray us,projecting to the world our most inner desires.most often the reason we act the way we act is because that's the way we want to be treated.that's why sometimes i dont really blame people for the way they act,that's </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5624831985332928222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5624831985332928222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/we-didnt-talk-about-anything-heavy-or.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TOk8vOjqBfI/AAAAAAAAH38/mwtnUhyFSzo/s72-c/piano.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-4643239244831687793</id><published>2010-11-21T23:23:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T23:23:16.270+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“You have to know what you stand for, not just what you stand against.”—  Laurie Halse Anderson, Speak
though i'm full of "arghs" and "hmphs" and "grrarr"s i'm still grateful for all that you've given me.and now that exams are over,though it's time to play like mad,it's also a time for something new.
the reminder pulled me back on track before i got carried away playing.you really do watch </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4643239244831687793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4643239244831687793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/you-have-to-know-what-you-stand-for-not.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TOkwmC9fgpI/AAAAAAAAH30/W-W1bBTswsc/s72-c/grateful.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7137880151752029637</id><published>2010-11-20T04:04:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-20T04:44:09.078+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
too quick to judge,too quick to trust.


you made me wonder what i missed out.though i eagerly try to search for it,i can't seem to find what you wanted me to find.
i guess sometimes we just can't take off our current glasses and change another pair just to see what others see,we won't be able to see it.cause the problem's not the glasses, but ourselves.
</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7137880151752029637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7137880151752029637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/too-quick-to-judge-too-quick-to-trust.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TObX6yodNwI/AAAAAAAAH3w/ybYu4EikY3s/s72-c/soulmate.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-2859527321483994944</id><published>2010-11-20T03:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-20T03:25:48.761+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“That’s the fun of it, Chuckie; you never know what you’re going to get until you get it.”
—  Tommy - Rugrats “1991”

the joy today would have been on a larger scale if not for all the complications that accompanied it.imperfections and flaws exist to tell you what is happening is real.
lots happened for a mere 7 days.i wish i could say my mind focused on the vaginas and fetuses and primate </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2859527321483994944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2859527321483994944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/thats-fun-of-it-chuckie-you-never-know.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TOa-iqp5Z_I/AAAAAAAAH3s/SYqknsG6rs4/s72-c/great.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1805329904920453449</id><published>2010-11-20T02:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-20T02:10:08.651+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“Of course there’s a such thing as love. Everything is made of love. But, I think what there’s no such thing as is the love that other people tell you about, the love that you hear about from movies, or from songs, or from your friends or from your parents. You know, you can take what you want and leave the rest from those notions of love but there’s no love except for the one that you feel for</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1805329904920453449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1805329904920453449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/of-course-theres-such-thing-as-love.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TOa9Tt4rkEI/AAAAAAAAH3k/OgaLUv2dzRM/s72-c/behappy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-4503668078209027772</id><published>2010-11-18T07:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T07:14:04.463+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“When we think we know people inside out and we think we know what’s best for them, we should try to remember we don’t even know what’s best for ourselves.”
—  Hayley Williams


we are all weird beings.
and i guess it's these little specks of weirdness which sets us apart from each other.

sometimes i really wonder why people do what they do.
and there's probably a gazillion explanations to a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4503668078209027772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4503668078209027772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/when-we-think-we-know-people-inside-out.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TORaVChI4NI/AAAAAAAAH3c/cyEjs8dXPDE/s72-c/weird.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-6077955865908197907</id><published>2010-11-12T03:12:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T03:40:57.487+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“It was not one of those strong, impulsive feelings that can hit two people like an electric shock when they first meet, but something quieter and gentler, like two tiny lights traveling in tandem through a vast darkness and drawing imperceptibly closer to each other as they go.”
—  The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami


it's like a social studies question where we are supposed to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6077955865908197907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6077955865908197907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/it-was-not-one-of-those-strong.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TNwsW_0rWKI/AAAAAAAAH3U/xdFZgIwclTM/s72-c/headvsheart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-5109468812371529439</id><published>2010-11-11T05:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-11T05:52:00.211+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish. And yet it also pleases me and seems right that what is of value and wisdom to one man seems nonsense to another.”
—  Herman Hesse


i tend to enter into a state of confusion whenever someone tries to teach me how to love,
or expects me to love </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5109468812371529439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5109468812371529439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/words-do-not-express-thoughts-very-well.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TNsP2rWQKuI/AAAAAAAAH3Q/ygT1pKC-4sc/s72-c/perspective.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-3987419934297455888</id><published>2010-11-07T03:47:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T04:00:25.468+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>okay,i know im a little lagging behind time.
but im just gonna play a little trick and put it in place.



“I believe in a kind of love that brings sailors home from the sea. Made up of seconds and years and the nospace between hands on skin. I cannot believe how much goes on. I can’t even cut out enough red hearts to keep up.”
—  Sarah Mimnaugh

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DEAR DINO CHUA!
i know you had </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3987419934297455888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3987419934297455888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/okayi-know-im-little-lagging-behind.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TNxJuXs_m1I/AAAAAAAAH3Y/rZa2EfEgYa4/s72-c/IMG_3701.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1566734261819980361</id><published>2010-11-07T01:57:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-07T01:57:47.564+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1566734261819980361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1566734261819980361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TNWXCHCXoTI/AAAAAAAAH3I/gwz1KzZcvxI/s72-c/the+most+important.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-9081599106429093978</id><published>2010-11-07T01:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-07T01:51:11.784+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


It’s the worst feeling in the world, to love and hate someone all at the same time. And it’s hard to watch things change when all you want is for them to stay the same. It’s funny but stupid how you want everything and nothing at the same time. It’s crazy when you want to let go, but you keep holding on, and when you want to move on but you’re stuck right where you started. When feelings come </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9081599106429093978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9081599106429093978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-worst-feeling-in-world-to-love-and.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TNWUiMOUA3I/AAAAAAAAH3E/wMMYQIohVJE/s72-c/decisions.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7797472714373728553</id><published>2010-11-05T18:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T18:00:37.766+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“Do not look back and grieve over the past, for it is gone; and do not be troubled about the future, for it has not yet come. Live in the present, and make it so beautiful that it will be worth remembering.”
—  Ida Scott Taylor


lunch yesterday left me burdened and inspired at the same time.
2010 was really one "hell of a ride".
true, it was a tough 10 months i have to admit.
bittersweet </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7797472714373728553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7797472714373728553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/do-not-look-back-and-grieve-over-past.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TNPMgxnZh4I/AAAAAAAAH3A/UOa0le-eUaM/s72-c/live+it+through.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-2195198113171162577</id><published>2010-11-03T18:35:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-03T22:32:49.989+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“Each person who ever was or is or will be has a song. It isn’t a song that anybody else wrote. It has its own melody, it has its own words. Very few people get to sing their song. Most of us fear that we cannot do it justice with our voices, or that our words are too foolish or too honest, or too odd. So people live their song instead.”
—  Neil Gaiman


like the deadly attacks which deal a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2195198113171162577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2195198113171162577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/each-person-who-ever-was-or-is-or-will.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TNEzH8KaKbI/AAAAAAAAH24/zG_runf6SPI/s72-c/say+it+again.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-5014798217997593903</id><published>2010-11-03T05:44:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-03T05:44:46.400+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“The things you’re afraid of are usually the most worthwhile.”— Chasing Liberty

mistakes,moments of folly,
misjudgements.
the cruelty of reality but that's what makes reality real isn't it?

each and everyone of us have a box of our own,
one where God has tailored for us according to our potential and what he has blessed us with.
however it's really up to us to determine what we fill that box </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5014798217997593903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5014798217997593903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/things-youre-afraid-of-are-usually-most.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TNBtYna2RJI/AAAAAAAAH20/qfe5VR852rk/s72-c/life.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-2133058920642084239</id><published>2010-11-03T05:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-03T05:44:32.488+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>with halloween and ilight minus school and mugging,
the past few days have been really great.

playing in a band was truly a blessing and a totally new experience.
i can't believe im saying this,but this is my first 'gig'.haha.
and thanks for the sunflower my no.1 fan.=)


i am proud to say that i've finally conquered the light festival.that's 2 days of 2.5 hr walks around MBS.and i confess i </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2133058920642084239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2133058920642084239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/with-halloween-and-ilight-minus-school.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TNBr5JW5pLI/AAAAAAAAH2o/y2IVrvtTpfs/s72-c/IMG_4690.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1236306440951920573</id><published>2010-10-28T01:50:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T01:54:02.054+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
"Charlie, don't you get it? I can't feel that. It's sweet and everything, but it's like you're not even there sometimes.It's great that you can listen and be a shoulder to someone, but what about when someone doesn't need a shoulder. What if they need the arms or something like that? You can't just sit there and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can't. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1236306440951920573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1236306440951920573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/charlie-dont-you-get-it-i-cant-feel.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TMhgscoVZ6I/AAAAAAAAH2Y/xCl0fWgzlpk/s72-c/show+me+dont+tell+em.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-3358510107334218331</id><published>2010-10-25T01:45:00.010+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T23:20:50.514+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.”
—  Anatole France


pardon me for the sudden influx of posts,
it just feels like i've been dropped a gargantuan bag of thoughts and revelations
i just had to write it down somewhere before it slips my mind again.
and it's been a</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3358510107334218331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3358510107334218331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/all-changes-even-most-longed-for-have.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TMRzsNibpKI/AAAAAAAAH2Q/qdgW9Jjq5P8/s72-c/passthewall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1549867287586077273</id><published>2010-10-25T01:05:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T02:06:00.334+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“Sometimes you’ve got to let everything go - purge yourself. If you are unhappy with anything … whatever is bringing you down, get rid of it. Because you’ll find that when you’re free, your true creativity, your true self comes out.”
—  Tina Turner


there was once a little boy who wanted a transformer toy really badly,
he constantly whined at his father to get him that.
knowing that his son </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1549867287586077273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1549867287586077273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/sometimes-youve-got-to-let-everything.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TMRz3cHfAzI/AAAAAAAAH2U/qo1IASYulYU/s72-c/nothing.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-4135472088782600606</id><published>2010-10-25T00:14:00.027+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T00:27:54.645+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“I like nonsense — it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living. It’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope… and that enables you to laugh at all of life’s realities.” 
Dr Seuss


tO thE BOLiaO PeePz,
tHouGh i'M annOyEd everyTiMe you GuYs briNg it Up,
i StiLl LoVe You All DEeep deEp...
JuST neeD to Dig dEeper tO fiNd the LovE.hAhAzZxXzz.

i </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4135472088782600606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4135472088782600606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TMRbLPwFJHI/AAAAAAAAH14/OQcvfZC7O0M/s72-c/=P.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-3890698231008484203</id><published>2010-10-23T12:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-23T12:47:31.534+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
"You know that feeling? That feeling when you just want the right thing to fall into the right place, not only because it's right, but because it will mean that such a thing is still possible? I want to believe that."-Nick &amp; Norah's Infinite Playlist


no,im not having any selfish thoughts.
i just feel that some things require a great deal of patience.
and the lack of it will probably result in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3890698231008484203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3890698231008484203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/you-know-that-feeling-that-feeling-when.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TMJmoAWHNuI/AAAAAAAAH10/Pf6Y7g-8Pow/s72-c/music2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8928675568285672058</id><published>2010-10-22T01:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T01:56:15.790+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>how about a better halloween suggestion anyone?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8928675568285672058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8928675568285672058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/how-about-better-halloween-suggestion.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TMB-mtfbj9I/AAAAAAAAH1w/jHTpFOmK5I0/s72-c/HAHA.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1969125325377843180</id><published>2010-10-22T01:38:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T01:47:25.461+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>my dear S90,
what would i do without you?


“Time isn’t precious at all, because it is an illusion. What you perceive as precious is not time but the one point that is out of time: the Now. That is precious indeed. The more you are focused on time—past and future—the more you miss the Now, the most precious thing there is.”
—  Eckhart Tolle


ever been somewhere or seen something and you just </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1969125325377843180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1969125325377843180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/time-isnt-precious-at-all-because-it-is.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TMBt41GsWbI/AAAAAAAAH1k/hkUDZG6J19s/s72-c/IMG_4214.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-9011763042915716358</id><published>2010-10-21T01:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T01:22:11.918+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“People always think that happiness is a faraway thing,” thought Francie, “something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains - a cup of strong hot coffee when you’re blue; for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book to read when you’re alone - just to be with someone you love. Those things make happiness.”
—  Betty Smith, A Tree </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9011763042915716358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9011763042915716358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/people-always-think-that-happiness-is.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TL8hI7zG3tI/AAAAAAAAH1g/DH7VQE2Rmc8/s72-c/it&apos;s+love.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-5989517248276278125</id><published>2010-10-18T15:00:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-18T15:05:00.671+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“Sometimes it’s the fight that makes a thing worth having.”—  Richard Paul Evans
guarding your heart doesn't mean building walls.guarding your heart doesn't mean being oblivious to everything around you.guarding your heart doesn't mean being indifferent.
guarding your heart just means being careful with who you let in.and when you finally decide to do so,fight for it with all you can...no </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5989517248276278125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5989517248276278125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/sometimes-its-fight-that-makes-thing.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TLvuAFQzx2I/AAAAAAAAH1c/UNBtE-Za46c/s72-c/guard+your+heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-3687362756393840599</id><published>2010-10-18T03:48:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-18T03:48:35.284+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“Everyone of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads—at least that’s where I imagine it—there’s a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in this library. And to understand the workings of our own heart we have to keep on making </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3687362756393840599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3687362756393840599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/everyone-of-us-is-losing-something.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TLtIcopB2NI/AAAAAAAAH1Y/0o2Agn-CvPQ/s72-c/steps+towalkaway.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-4956668457522858614</id><published>2010-10-17T01:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T01:53:21.043+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>wrong angles...totally.
HAHAHA!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4956668457522858614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4956668457522858614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/wrong-angles.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TLnmCIhye2I/AAAAAAAAH1Q/dXibPlYXPnE/s72-c/HAHAHA.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7731151954812411001</id><published>2010-10-17T01:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T01:41:59.801+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“We come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly. Only after we have lost everything are we free to do anything. Throw things out there and not be perfect and not have answers to anything and see if people understand.”
—  Angelina Jolie


no matter how dire a situation is,
how eager i am to runaway from it all,
or to try a grass patch </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7731151954812411001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7731151954812411001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/we-come-to-love-not-by-finding-perfect.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TLng7y6HuCI/AAAAAAAAH1M/CQU_aL2llnE/s72-c/and+i+guess.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1571143114646917183</id><published>2010-10-15T01:48:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T01:55:28.505+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it’s all over.”—   Gloria Naylor
when a fool walks right into the wall and ends up with a major concussion,they walk right into the same wall again just to confirm the wall's the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1571143114646917183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1571143114646917183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/sometimes-being-friend-means-mastering.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TLc8h829ykI/AAAAAAAAH1I/8MfcV_jTTh0/s72-c/the+truth.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-2794284138287321216</id><published>2010-10-13T16:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T16:18:51.560+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“If you love and get hurt, love more. If you love more and hurt more, love even more. If you love even more and get hurt even more, love some more until it hurts no more..”

—  William Shakespeare


ever wondered why ex-smokers never go back to smoking?
cause the thought of going through the whole process of quitting,
the pain they had to endure to abstain from it,
was enough to keep them away </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2794284138287321216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2794284138287321216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/if-you-love-and-get-hurt-love-more.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TLVovIsOmiI/AAAAAAAAH0w/6aV5vo0r_uk/s72-c/what&apos;s+the+point.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8045276548373259793</id><published>2010-10-12T01:34:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T01:35:00.738+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>







“We probably shouldn’t talk,Cause talking leads to thinking andEyes wide open blank in the dark.
We probably shouldn’t think,Cause thinking leads to questioning andCircles you right back to the start
But everything used to make sense,We’re testing it in our own strength, oh no”—  The Narrative - Fade

time will tell.
</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8045276548373259793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8045276548373259793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/we-probably-shouldnt-talk-cause-talking.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TLNKeIJEHKI/AAAAAAAAH0s/QgItXqOZEkQ/s72-c/feeling+stop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8194515563946561333</id><published>2010-10-11T01:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T01:12:39.725+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“The unconscious is the ocean of the unsayable, of what has been expelled from the land of language, removed as a result of ancient prohibitions.”
—  Italo Calvino


as we grow older,we become more timid.
our thoughts and decisions become tainted by the experiences we've been through.
the doubts we have in making decisions increases expotentionally,
that's why we often find our grannys nagging</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8194515563946561333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8194515563946561333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/unconscious-is-ocean-of-unsayable-of.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TLHua9LPOqI/AAAAAAAAH0o/L8EvIt-0H_I/s72-c/doing+the+opposite.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1924667369067665831</id><published>2010-10-10T03:08:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T03:27:22.346+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“This is a test, isn’t it? It’s like choosing out of three caskets in a fairy tale. Everyone knows the rules. You never choose the gold shiny one. Or even the quite impressive silver one. What you’re supposed to do is choose the dull little lead one, and then there’s a flash of light and it turns into a mountain of jewels.”
—  Sophie Kinsella


when things beyond your imagination happens right </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1924667369067665831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1924667369067665831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/this-is-test-isnt-it-its-like-choosing.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TLC3Mp00PAI/AAAAAAAAH0k/6Tcnz-XuvL8/s72-c/you+will+survive.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8155872884116531243</id><published>2010-10-09T02:20:00.010+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T02:57:06.696+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“I sat before the fire in the Library—and read—almost a little wildly. I wanted to drug myself with books—-drown my thoughts in a great violet sea of Oblivion.”
—  Katherine Mansfield (Notebooks)


you know that feeling,
that feeling where you look right into the eyes of the person you love,
or hear his/her voice and you could just feel their disappointment go right through you
but there's </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8155872884116531243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8155872884116531243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-sat-before-fire-in-libraryand.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TK9f_h1KTQI/AAAAAAAAH0g/iqa-ve2g5wY/s72-c/guide+me.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8475949523235411839</id><published>2010-10-08T04:19:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T04:21:50.396+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“everything that needs to happen, will happen, in the time that it takes to happen, the way it was meant to happen. you need to trust in that”


honestly,now that the week is almost over.
all i can say is thank You.

though it was one of  the most crazy,bizzare,out of the world week,
i'm glad it happened.
and i'm glad it went the way it went.
i guess being caught up with stuff left little space </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8475949523235411839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8475949523235411839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/everything-that-needs-to-happen-will.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TK4mCzHLMKI/AAAAAAAAH0c/Nnx4Gi9z4PI/s72-c/thingstoremember.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-4892655587482956461</id><published>2010-10-06T02:35:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T14:02:15.351+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


"Sometimes you have to stand alone - just to make sure you still can."


PSLE is tomorrow,
and i can see myself losing control,having the urge to wring my student's neck no matter how cute she is.

we often find ourselves in situations where nothing else matters anymore as our emotions takes the lead and swallows us up whole.
it's just you and your emotions for the moment.
nothing else crosses</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4892655587482956461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4892655587482956461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/sometimes-you-have-to-stand-alone-just.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TKtieMZGgWI/AAAAAAAAH0Y/gZaAIhS8Qmk/s72-c/keeping+it+still.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-9162119646371496369</id><published>2010-10-05T01:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T02:49:30.428+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

"Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."
-  Ralph Waldo Emerson


despite my shrinking social life,
and the hectic days ahead.
the day ended really well.

and it's </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9162119646371496369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9162119646371496369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/finish-every-day-and-be-done-with-it.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7444709736612776931</id><published>2010-10-04T02:29:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T03:17:12.332+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“There is so much about my fate that I cannot control, but other things do fall under the jurisdiction. I can decide how I spend my time, whom I interact with, whom I share my body and life and money and energy with. I can select what I can read and eat and study. I can choose how I’m going to regard unfortunate circumstances in my life-whether I will see them as curses or opportunities. I can</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7444709736612776931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7444709736612776931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/there-is-so-much-about-my-fate-that-i.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TKjBaZZuGOI/AAAAAAAAH0Q/f9vs3491BIE/s72-c/you6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-248517799205712251</id><published>2010-10-03T02:13:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T02:17:11.105+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

amazing.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/248517799205712251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/248517799205712251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/amazing.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7238606953068242266</id><published>2010-10-03T01:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T01:48:16.825+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“He sailed through the world guided only by the dim lights of impulse and habit, confident that his course would throw up no obstacles so large that they could not be plowed over with sheer force of momentum.”
—  Donna Tartt, The Secret History


i refuse to feel this way,
not because i dont care,
not because it didn't matter.
but time now is too precious to be used for sulking and drowning in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7238606953068242266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7238606953068242266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/he-sailed-through-world-guided-only-by.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TKdpPUNulnI/AAAAAAAAH0I/1rdAdSid6Ns/s72-c/noclue-gets+it.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1005981100179431195</id><published>2010-10-01T02:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-01T02:41:39.182+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“He is not heroic, he is aware that modern life is full of nondescript melancholy, of discomfort, of queer relationships which beget emotions that are half-ludicrous and yet painful and that an inconclusive ending for all these impulses is much more usual than anything extreme.”
—  Virgina Woolf, on the short stories of Anton Chekhov


i always wondered why things are the way it is now,
and i </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1005981100179431195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1005981100179431195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/he-is-not-heroic-he-is-aware-that.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TKTVl6p3l6I/AAAAAAAAH0E/KiVBd28ASpo/s72-c/wecanfixthis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-8674173610518223874</id><published>2010-09-30T02:44:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T02:51:57.772+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>





there are two big decisions in life, where you're going and who you're going to take with you.
knowing that eternity is where i'm heading,it makes the second part all the more important.
cause eternity means no end, no time,
eternity means you are stuck with these people and the only way to make all this work is probably this other thing which can exist in eternal form--love.

i always </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8674173610518223874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/8674173610518223874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/there-are-two-big-decisions-in-life.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TKN2z0VbzHI/AAAAAAAAH0A/bBpTJZHTsLE/s72-c/let+it+come+in.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-605548904261807374</id><published>2010-09-30T02:23:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T02:45:23.272+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." 


it's funny how the word "busy" always seem to find its way to me these days.not that i dont like it, but i dont particularly adore it either.it's a love-hate relationship.
so i decided to sit down </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/605548904261807374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/605548904261807374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-funny-how-word-busy-always-seem-to.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-4357385654222577012</id><published>2010-09-26T23:39:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T23:56:30.182+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
The Mississippi's mighty, but it starts in Minnesota,At a place where you can walk across with five steps down,And i guess that's how you started,like a pinprick to my heart.

sometimes it's really difficult to distinguish between the feeling of having something for someone and getting too carried away by the nice things that he/she has done. which is why it's hard to say you are reciprocating a</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4357385654222577012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4357385654222577012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/mississippis-mighty-but-it-starts-in.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TJ9nhduz7eI/AAAAAAAAHz8/qhpIO5hm60Y/s72-c/here+it+comes..jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-6710924910407900232</id><published>2010-09-25T02:09:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T02:16:42.629+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“Don’t let go too soon. But don’t hang on too long.”—  Tuesdays with Morrie

life's like a road,with random twists and turns which injects occasional surprises.cause with twists and turns,you never know what's at the end of the road till you actually reach the end of the road.and sometimes, i secretly crave for more cause i simply just cant get enough of it.
the street lights on the road bear a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6710924910407900232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6710924910407900232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/dont-let-go-too-soon.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TJzchEVhJ3I/AAAAAAAAHz4/cOzh_29on6k/s72-c/fearless.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-6213450621846763603</id><published>2010-09-21T15:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T15:08:15.578+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“We create illusions we need to go on. And one day, when when they no longer dazzle or comfort, we tear them down, brick by glittering brick, until we are left with nothing but the brought light of honesty. The light is liberating. Necessary. Terrifying. We stand naked and emptied before it. And when it is too much for our eyes to take, we build a new illusion to shield us from its relentless </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6213450621846763603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6213450621846763603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/we-create-illusions-we-need-to-go-on.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TJhXddjMrtI/AAAAAAAAHzw/_84iTIp643M/s72-c/imaginations.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1742639267974845554</id><published>2010-09-20T04:17:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T04:18:34.209+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“Love is like a booger. You keep picking at it until you get it, then wonder what to do with it.”
—  Unknown

sometimes knowing too much isn't exactly a good thing.
yes we need to keep ourselves updated and wary of all the things that are happening around us.
but when we start to feel some things are better off not knowing,
or when some things are too much to bear.
then maybe ignorance is bliss </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1742639267974845554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1742639267974845554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/love-is-like-booger.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TJZqLMX2ulI/AAAAAAAAHzo/iaNY1pwpyeY/s72-c/complicatedd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-2996183885471394230</id><published>2010-09-19T02:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-19T02:20:34.977+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
A few times in my life I’ve had moments of absolute clarity, when for a few brief seconds the silence drowns out the noise and I can feel rather than think, and things seem so sharp and the world seems so fresh. I can never make these moments last. I cling to them, but like everything, they fade. I have lived my life on these moments. They pull me back to the present, and I realize that </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2996183885471394230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2996183885471394230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/few-times-in-my-life-ive-had-moments-of.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TJT6ugjFpTI/AAAAAAAAHzY/eh7165d0UqM/s72-c/wall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7079911451143898063</id><published>2010-09-18T02:04:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T02:07:30.410+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>heart skipped a beat.and when i caught it..you were out of reach.
i hate it when every single thing that matters leaves behind a dent in my heart,whether i like it or not,whether i want it or not.
the heart's like a clay fieldwhere anything which passes through leaves a mark, an indentand the only way to protect it is by building fences and walls,there's no such thing as a filter whereby we could</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7079911451143898063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7079911451143898063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/heart-skipped-beat.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TJOqXy-gpvI/AAAAAAAAHzQ/KVfqbaV5Nbc/s72-c/everything+leaves+a+mark.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-2589339567453083309</id><published>2010-09-17T02:38:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T02:39:33.552+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”
—  Vincent Van Gogh


no, that's not a two...
it's a twenty.


really pumped up and ready to go,
in all aspects.
it's funny how you can look at something so ambitious and feel like it can be and will be done anyway.
i guess that's the power of God- the ability to see it even before it's even there.

this </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2589339567453083309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/2589339567453083309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/for-my-part-i-know-nothing-with-any.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TJJeAx_4ClI/AAAAAAAAHzI/vCTtodETlao/s72-c/twenty.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-7446752619572491031</id><published>2010-09-13T01:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T01:43:50.792+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"when a person can't answer directly to your question,probably,the answer is hard for them to admit or too painful for you to know."



the subconscious mind was something i never thought i would notice,
neither did i think i would be bothered about.
maybe cause it's our subconscious mind.
but maybe reading about it made realise the power of it all.
that it's best at bringing out the truth in the</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7446752619572491031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/7446752619572491031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/when-person-cant-answer-directly-to.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TI0OIWpnlMI/AAAAAAAAHzA/MCza5RLa7RM/s72-c/dont+wanna+hear.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-9114505155552036537</id><published>2010-09-09T04:54:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T04:57:11.576+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“Maybe it makes sense now. Maybe somewhere in all of this there’s a reason. Maybe somewhere in all of this there’s a why. Maybe somewhere there’s that thing that let’s you lie it all up with a neat bow and bury it in the backyard. But nothing, not getting angry, not prayers, and not reats, nothing can make something that happened unhappen.”
—  The United States of Leland

elated i am,
but </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9114505155552036537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/9114505155552036537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/maybe-it-makes-sense-now_09.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TIf4DGKiUZI/AAAAAAAAHyk/oght4jPXXIU/s72-c/don%27t+hold+back.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-504046367792597160</id><published>2010-09-05T01:34:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-05T01:34:28.710+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/504046367792597160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/504046367792597160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TIKDHIJfFDI/AAAAAAAAHyM/V38q7ZKxJNw/s72-c/the+biggest+risks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-3853692689251879110</id><published>2010-09-05T01:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-05T01:58:31.660+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“As we grow older together, As we continue to change with age, There is one thing that will never change… I will always keep falling in love with you.”
—  Karen Clodfelde


i was never a fan of phonecalls,
but due to unforeseen circumstances.
like a wager against time,
a phonecall made my night feel more normal...and bearable.

looking at my parents,or the many close friends i have and their </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3853692689251879110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/3853692689251879110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/as-we-grow-older-together-as-we.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TIJ6CO3Kc3I/AAAAAAAAHyE/4xrYWCrVHgo/s72-c/forwho.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-6715593053425848856</id><published>2010-09-03T02:22:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-05T00:31:48.144+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

“‘What’ and ‘if’ two words as nonthreatening as words come. But put them together side-by-side 
and they have the power to haunt you for the rest of your life: ‘What if?’…”“I don’t know how your story ended.But I know that if what you felt then was love - true love - 
then it’s never too late. 
If it was true then why wouldn’t it be true now? You need only the courage to follow your heart…”
“I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6715593053425848856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/6715593053425848856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/what-and-if-two-words-as-nonthreatening.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TH_rNANJKiI/AAAAAAAAHx0/pL9lEmR3eQw/s72-c/beroughwithlove.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-5547860039461983472</id><published>2010-09-03T00:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-03T15:01:05.866+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


“If you have love in your life it can make up for a great many things you lack. If you don’t have it, no matter what else there is, it’s not enough. ~”—  Ann Landers                                       






i'm truly genuinely amazed how it is possible to love 14 people at the same time.yesterday was simply amazing.wonderful time spent with the girls while we celebrated teachers' day. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5547860039461983472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/5547860039461983472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/if-you-have-love-in-your-life-it-can.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TICdGYz-xUI/AAAAAAAAHx8/P5ig3mrBLD0/s72-c/myloveforfree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-882384588990857528</id><published>2010-09-01T01:21:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T12:55:38.421+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>



“Sometimes you just have to be brave. You have to be strong. Sometimes you just can’t give in to weak thoughts. You have to beat down those devils that get inside your head and try to make you panic. You struggle along, putting one foot a little bit ahead of the other, hoping that when you go backwards it won’t be too far backwards, so that when you start going forwards again you won’t have </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/882384588990857528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/882384588990857528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/sometimes-you-just-have-to-be-brave.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/TH05-TOF49I/AAAAAAAAHws/lshTqyBfc9c/s72-c/face+it.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-4480319217548448605</id><published>2010-08-31T04:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T04:57:52.616+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>an explanation to my lack of updates..
happy 21st ryan!!!=)
chilling with my favs.this is it.

what?no cert?
teamone is &lt;3
vertical limit.thanks for looking so pretty in dresses for me.


the reason why i am here...Thanks for everything.love you.Thanks for being the nuisance in my life i can never live without.my loves.what courage is..thanks for the graduating bear my dear lucindaxiaozarbor &amp; </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4480319217548448605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/4480319217548448605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/08/explanation-to-my-lack-of-updates.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/THwIdlG9RFI/AAAAAAAAHr0/-uQBwig27-c/s72-c/IMG_2900.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321461.post-1997280879085044887</id><published>2010-08-25T01:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T01:47:16.188+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>

'I generally begin working on a story in total ignorance, which I think is the ideal starting point for me, because only if you are truly ignorant can you ask the truly ignorant question. But I have only the foggiest idea of what the story is when I get started on it. And in fact, every story that I write, when I'm doing my reporting, I always come upon some information that completely destroys</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1997280879085044887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5321461/posts/default/1997280879085044887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://superfluousrambles.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-generally-begin-working-on-story-in.html' title=''/><author><name>justine</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kDoEoJZrdyw/THP-DosX9xI/AAAAAAAAHrs/isXtChUqmHc/s72-c/HAHA.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry></feed>
