<?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-6735076</id><updated>2011-09-08T15:38:35.288+08:00</updated><title type='text'>coffee stains</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>78</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-2792536419730556144</id><published>2010-08-06T18:03:00.011+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T15:00:11.109+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Choose Your Own Misadventure</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Life is like a classic game of choose your own adventure wherein  every choice we make gives us a different outcome. We could try alternative paths to achieve an alternative ending. Unfortunately, undoing something in the real world is not as easy as shuffling pages and starting over is not at all a luxury. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-2792536419730556144?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/2792536419730556144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=2792536419730556144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/2792536419730556144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/2792536419730556144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2010/08/life-is-like-classic-game-of-choose.html' title='Choose Your Own Misadventure'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-104087431898632528</id><published>2010-07-26T14:45:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T18:54:23.397+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire with Fire</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Coffee's appeal may be partly due to its bitter taste and not to mention its addictive aroma. Her bitterness, on the other hand, smells of nicotine and rot. It probably tastes just as horrendous. She eyes me deviously like a snake hiding treacherously in the sand. She aims to strike where I am most vulnerable. She asks no questions...unapologetic and shows no mercy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;At this point, I feel like I have nothing much left to lose. I still have a few things up my sleeve. I refuse to play dirty but i know just how to level the field when i need to. I save my best tricks for last.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-104087431898632528?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/104087431898632528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=104087431898632528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/104087431898632528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/104087431898632528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2010/07/fire-with-fire.html' title='Fire with Fire'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-5783365560679853283</id><published>2010-07-24T11:48:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-24T11:53:02.718+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprise Surprise</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;I was taken aback by the unexpected invite. I had a few minutes to rack my brain for a decision before the opportunity dissipated into the cold evening. The EDSA traffic bought me some time. My brain tried to weigh the consequences as i stared at the phone i gripped in my hand. A part of me wanted to indulge. A huge chunk of my being was fixated on what i seriously wanted versus what i needed at that moment. There were no certainties, no backing out. For some reason, at the back of my head, i was praying for a way out. A deep breath then i allowed fate to take the lead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-5783365560679853283?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/5783365560679853283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=5783365560679853283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/5783365560679853283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/5783365560679853283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2010/07/surprise-surprise.html' title='Surprise Surprise'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-3712298520407441116</id><published>2010-06-10T09:39:00.014+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T15:01:02.239+08:00</updated><title type='text'>wistful thinking</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Wouldn’t it be great if we had a switch built-in so that we could turn off all of our emotions until we are certain that it’s safe to feel something? No more sense of hope when you meet someone interesting or simply breath-taking. No overwhelming excitement when there seems to be even an infinitesimal probability--a minute spark. Not a chance will you anticipate the other’s next move--perhaps too predictable yet vague after the seemingly consistent encounters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;No more simulated expectations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Wouldn’t it just be grand if we didn’t need to go through emotional torment?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;But then how else could we feel alive when love seems to hurl us into a sedated realm. After previous mishaps, only pain lets you know that your heart has not yet turned to stone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;"  &gt;&lt;a name="_MailAutoSig"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-3712298520407441116?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/3712298520407441116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=3712298520407441116' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/3712298520407441116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/3712298520407441116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2010/06/wistful-thinking.html' title='wistful thinking'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-3490700944296797823</id><published>2010-06-07T23:11:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T11:44:43.750+08:00</updated><title type='text'>off the beaten path</title><content type='html'>&lt;div   style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:10pt;"&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I do not want this chain to break. The very chain that heaved me up  consistently, higher by the day, out of the murky puddle of woe that I was stuck in. Ironic how a chain  could emancipate me yet bind me in its spell all at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;It did not take long for the masochist that used to stare back at me in the  mirror to no longer have a hold on me. I did not even realize right away that I have taken a new path.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;I am free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-3490700944296797823?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/3490700944296797823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=3490700944296797823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/3490700944296797823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/3490700944296797823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2010/06/off-beaten-path.html' title='off the beaten path'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-421652114369623716</id><published>2010-02-12T21:24:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T15:02:22.304+08:00</updated><title type='text'>441</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iXpFkLe-LDk/TCWlzdbF_4I/AAAAAAAAACQ/06RPZNeoIy8/s1600/broken_heart-18231.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; 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	mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;441 days flew by so quickly like the whole thing was merely a delusion...utter mirth now blurred by that pitiless illumination that roused me. I seem to have lost myself in the mirth that was muddled occasionally by despondencies that intensified little by little until I woke from my slumber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-421652114369623716?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/421652114369623716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=421652114369623716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/421652114369623716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/421652114369623716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2010/02/441.html' title='441'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iXpFkLe-LDk/TCWlzdbF_4I/AAAAAAAAACQ/06RPZNeoIy8/s72-c/broken_heart-18231.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-6634665071935163237</id><published>2010-01-11T17:41:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T11:29:07.879+08:00</updated><title type='text'>snakes &amp; ladders</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span id="ctl00_ctl00_ctl00_ctl00_ctl00_content_content_content_content_content_c_content"  style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;As I clutched my 2nd cup of coffee in my hand, It dawned on me that the strong brew cannot rouse me from my jaded state. Neither can it fully wake me to face the merciless realization that I just stumbled upon. Once again, I am on my own, walking along the edge of waking and my sordid dreamscape. It doesn't hurt when I’m asleep but the same delusions still haunt me once in a while. Time has started to heal my wounded heart but the path to recovery is full of pitfalls and deceptive contraptions. This is just like playing a board game: one bad throw of the dice and I could stumble several steps back. If worse comes to worst, I could even end up in the beginning. Only one thing is acceptable at this point: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span id="ctl00_ctl00_ctl00_ctl00_ctl00_content_content_content_content_content_c_content"  style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;I'll give it my best shot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;play only to win&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-6634665071935163237?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/6634665071935163237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=6634665071935163237' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/6634665071935163237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/6634665071935163237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2010/01/snakes-ladders_15.html' title='snakes &amp; ladders'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-526993871531109306</id><published>2009-12-26T00:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T12:57:38.015+08:00</updated><title type='text'>vignette</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I felt the intoxicating brew course through my system as the music pounded my eardrums. Everybody seemed to find the fist fight outside amusing. The crowd cheered and stood on their benches to get a good look at the troubled teens throwing futile punches at each other. How cliche, I thought, yet I was trying to wash away my own troubles with the sweet, strong potion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drink, they said. Be merry! Enjoy the company of true friends and the amazing view in red, stealing glances. It made me think, but I had a momentary relapse. So what? My thoughts were preoccupied with one face that will &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;subsequently&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; haunt me no more. How long will this last? The excruciating feeling of acrid dismissal yanked my heartstrings then I snapped out of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-526993871531109306?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/526993871531109306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=526993871531109306' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/526993871531109306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/526993871531109306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2009/12/vignette.html' title='vignette'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-4102371464133404353</id><published>2009-12-21T14:54:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T13:29:36.373+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Smoke &amp; Mirrors</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iXpFkLe-LDk/SzBI1yj20BI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7y1pYcyUFeI/s1600-h/th_3a0b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 145px; height: 118px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iXpFkLe-LDk/SzBI1yj20BI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7y1pYcyUFeI/s320/th_3a0b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417910440669138962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;A diversion...a temporary ploy to escape my pained existence. Distractions come and go, filling the gargantuan hole in my being but at the end of the day or the verge of consciousness, I could possibly still long for the things that are bad for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The wound is still here. It hurts less by the day. Sure, I'm a fast healer and I know the void will eventually disappear but I am, for now muddling through--right here, right now.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-4102371464133404353?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/4102371464133404353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=4102371464133404353' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/4102371464133404353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/4102371464133404353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2009/12/smoke-mirrors.html' title='Smoke &amp; Mirrors'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iXpFkLe-LDk/SzBI1yj20BI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7y1pYcyUFeI/s72-c/th_3a0b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-8777346072968695898</id><published>2009-12-10T09:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T12:04:29.282+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Relationships Are Like Glass</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Relationships are like glass. Sometimes it's better to leave them broken than try to hurt yourself putting it back together." (Anonymous)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I completely agree with this. Sometimes, we try too hard to make a relationship work and we only end up being bitter or frustrated in the end. Most of our efforts may not really be given due appreciation. Sometimes we point fingers in the end.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Even a masochist should know when to let go. Sometimes we need to give ourselves a break, take a moment to stand back and look at things from a different perspective. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-8777346072968695898?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/8777346072968695898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=8777346072968695898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/8777346072968695898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/8777346072968695898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2009/12/relationships-are-like-glass.html' title='Relationships Are Like Glass'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-4521825818894746747</id><published>2009-12-03T08:57:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T21:53:58.729+08:00</updated><title type='text'>my heart is catching up with my brain</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;it's just like any injury, you feel numb at first but then the pain spreads slowly like venom. You wait in silence until you are completely consumed by it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-4521825818894746747?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/4521825818894746747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=4521825818894746747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/4521825818894746747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/4521825818894746747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-heart-is-catching-up-with-my-brain.html' title='my heart is catching up with my brain'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-2246313281369373397</id><published>2009-12-01T19:28:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T11:48:59.315+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Head-on Collision</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; 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&lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face 	{font-family:"Cambria Math"; 	panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:roman; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1107304683 0 0 415 0;} @font-face 	{font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; 	panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:swiss; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;}  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-unhide:no; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault 	{mso-style-type:export-only; 	mso-default-props:yes; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault 	{mso-style-type:export-only; 	margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	line-height:115%;} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-priority:99; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin-top:0in; 	mso-para-margin-right:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	mso-para-margin-left:0in; 	line-height:115%; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;"  class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;I’ve written numerous entries about unrequited love on my blog. Most of us have had our fair share of stories to tell about this subject. A cliché subject, yes, if what you have in mind is this typical scenario: A loves B but B loves C or simply doesn’t feel the same way. If you are not a masochist, you’ll probably feel bitter; go through the usual detox process and that's it! Not much harm done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;"  class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;"  class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;"  class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Have you ever experienced unrequited love while in a relationship? If you have, you know that the pain seems embedded into your very core, incapacitating you to a certain degree. It is simply because you have invested so much emotionally and have gotten so used to having the other person around. You were so wrapped up in your made-up world to notice. Perhaps you didn’t see the telltale signs. Certain circumstances could’ve clouded your judgment or how you chose to react.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;"  class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;"  class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;It’s too late. The truth collides with your artificial universe, leaving you stupefied. It is rather horrific but life goes on. You let go not because it is easy, not merely because it is good for you but because it’s what the other person craves. You are only besotted to oblige.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-2246313281369373397?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/2246313281369373397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=2246313281369373397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/2246313281369373397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/2246313281369373397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2009/12/head-on-collision.html' title='Head-on Collision'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-8903840888796725937</id><published>2009-10-09T15:06:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T21:51:38.103+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wounded</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;No matter how many times your heart gets crushed by your significant other's harsh words or behavior, your heart gets mended, good as new, with a simple gesture of affection. Sadly, the magic only works when the feelings are real and go both ways. Otherwise, your heart stays broken, leaving you mutilated and bleeding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-8903840888796725937?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/8903840888796725937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=8903840888796725937' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/8903840888796725937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/8903840888796725937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2009/10/wounded.html' title='Wounded'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-7273161925258745649</id><published>2009-10-07T16:24:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T21:54:57.479+08:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I must be too transparent that I just blend into the background, forgotten. Too easy to read that I am unable to contain my feelings that should have been kept to myself. I give too much away, perhaps, that I am open to being taken for granted. I care too much, willing to succumb to whatever makes the person I love happy even if it means giving up my own--even when my beloved's happiness doesn't involve me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-7273161925258745649?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/7273161925258745649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=7273161925258745649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/7273161925258745649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/7273161925258745649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2009/10/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-6521431207445388069</id><published>2009-08-31T03:07:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T19:11:01.640+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Insomniac</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;If there's anything more painful than being loathed by anyone that matters to you, it is to be shown indifference. Actually, this is not being done to you by choice. The other person simply does not give a hoot, PERIOD. Hatred is a much more powerful emotion apart from love. Who cares if I still exist, if I'm waiting in vain, if I'm lying here sleepless or have fallen off the face off the planet? I DO--but that doesn't really take away my affliction now, does it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-6521431207445388069?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/6521431207445388069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=6521431207445388069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/6521431207445388069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/6521431207445388069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2009/08/insomniac.html' title='Insomniac'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-3685083942681213249</id><published>2009-08-26T15:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T20:38:57.530+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Unforgivable Mush :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Someone's status on FB once read "You love the most when you hurt the most". There is no better time than right now to acknowledge how true this quote is. Love can give us a natural high that no type of drug can bring about. But love can also be overwhelming to the point of being destructive . It can make a person falter to the ground, make us weep our eyes out no matter how tough we consider ourselves to be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Not loving enough can cause a person to be careless and take someone for granted. At the same time, people are terrified by the thought of loving someone too much that it makes them push the other person away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; They say love is supposedly unconditional. Love can make you do crazy, unexpected things. As a matter of fact, it has made me do things that I would normally detest and wouldn't do for myself. I have taken humongous, life-altering risks and actually loved every moment of it! I guess when you're faced with this reality, your ultimate desire is not your own comfort and happiness but the welfare of the person for whom your heart beats. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Love is pure mush and sheer bliss but can be absolute torture during challenging times. You give your best and would endure almost anything even if there are no guarantees.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-3685083942681213249?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/3685083942681213249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=3685083942681213249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/3685083942681213249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/3685083942681213249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2009/08/unforgivable-mush.html' title='Unforgivable Mush :)'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-7272535340637550579</id><published>2009-08-02T22:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T18:46:57.415+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Carnival</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;As my feelings unravel and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; Evolve beyond my control&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; I find myself walking on a tightrope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; Hoping that you would rid me of my uncertainties.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; I wish I could somehow peer into your heart's chambers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; To see for myself if I'm still there somewhere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; You seem to be at a standstill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; While I seem to outdo myself more and more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; Being all naive and eager to believe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; That you feel enough if not as much as you used to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-7272535340637550579?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/7272535340637550579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=7272535340637550579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/7272535340637550579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/7272535340637550579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-demise.html' title='Carnival'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-4766670402878993862</id><published>2008-12-21T17:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T08:51:46.859+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ex Factor</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;In this modern day and age of story-telling, you can probably name several unexpected, extremely vague plot wrap-ups. I thought I’d seen it all but nothing could prepare for what collided with me this afternoon. The ending was brutal and twisted like having a dagger pierce through my very core, getting torn limb from limb, immobilizing me completely seemingly for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what was hard to swallow was that for the vague endings fed to us by Hollywood, there was at least something along the storyline that gave you an idea about the outcome…possibilities that made the story end that way. My story was nothing of this sort. I woke up from a good dream to a harsh reality with no clarity and nothing discernible to hold on to but the bitter stare of the person who once held me in my sleep and kissed me goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-4766670402878993862?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/4766670402878993862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=4766670402878993862' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/4766670402878993862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/4766670402878993862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2008/12/ex-factor.html' title='The Ex Factor'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-3517573124144356781</id><published>2008-10-22T00:03:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T21:40:40.354+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Redpill</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Wide-eyed, I sit in a room with two people yet I feel completely alone. I feel like a fool staring into the darkness. I waited for hours eventually drifting off with a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. I awake only to swallow the bitter pill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The air reeks of alcohol and somehow i hope that I'm the one who is intoxicated at this moment...numb to any type of emotion or any physical feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times when the most minute thing could make you ponder on your worth to another.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-3517573124144356781?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/3517573124144356781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=3517573124144356781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/3517573124144356781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/3517573124144356781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2008/10/after-red-pill.html' title='Redpill'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-227175723582184545</id><published>2008-10-13T22:18:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T07:17:31.014+08:00</updated><title type='text'>disturbia</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Have you ever had that nagging feeling about someone that you just could not shake off? Guilt-stricken, you tried to rid your system of the negativity, attempted desperately to latch on to reason and keep your mind off the ghastly possibilities&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What triggers your ruthless mind to play such images in your brain? Could it be from past exploits? Is it from seeing what appear to be subtle hints with no clarification or from pondering on the key players in the current setup that cause such thoughts to tease that disturbed head of yours?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little things...key players... are you just seriously paranoid or are these actually signals?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Proceed with caution.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;As they say, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;when there's smoke there's fire.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-227175723582184545?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/227175723582184545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=227175723582184545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/227175723582184545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/227175723582184545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2008/10/disturbia.html' title='disturbia'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-8876589463166721376</id><published>2008-10-13T20:05:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T18:13:15.845+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ex Marks The Spot</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;There's a pang of jealousy that threatens to eliminate all reason at this moment. The sting is unlike anything I have dealt with in the past. It is a somewhat uncomfortable change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does one compare to the person that your significant other used to be madly in-love with? The truth is, you simply don't. She will be, more often than not, the one that got away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Expect the occasional phantom jab in the rib or a brief yank at your heartstrings until the dust settles and everything becomes clear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-8876589463166721376?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/8876589463166721376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=8876589463166721376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/8876589463166721376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/8876589463166721376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2008/10/ex-marks-spot.html' title='Ex Marks The Spot'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-5441079343398674075</id><published>2008-10-11T21:55:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T18:16:10.782+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shadows, Scars and Sensibility</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;There's a shadow looming over me. To think it's not even my own, it takes the same path as mine and mimics some of my moves. Its presence causes a heavy feeling of dread and anxiety in my chest. I feel a wave of insecurity wash over me and a discomforting hint of distrust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feeling is fleeting yet, whatever it is, it turns out that my fear stems from the realization that the shadow is not upon me but i could possibly be dwelling in it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-5441079343398674075?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/5441079343398674075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=5441079343398674075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/5441079343398674075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/5441079343398674075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2008/10/shadows-scars-and-sensibility.html' title='Shadows, Scars and Sensibility'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-562198041701838978</id><published>2008-10-11T12:53:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T18:07:50.542+08:00</updated><title type='text'>No Reservations</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;For the last several chapters of my life, I've talked mostly about love unrequited, fear of taking risks and my sado-masochistic tendencies with the affairs of the heart. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;In this present chapter of my existence, i have turned over a new leaf. Not only did I take a huge risk, I have made a giant leap beyond my boundaries in my quest to discover myself and find mirth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Currently, with no holds barred, I went through the initial stages of attraction, gained new friendships and rediscovered a repressed persona that has been in a coma for as long as i could &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;remember.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;How will this chapter unravel? I suppose it's up to the key players to play their parts well. We can only sit back and allow the story to unfold.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;And the plot thickens...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-562198041701838978?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/562198041701838978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=562198041701838978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/562198041701838978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/562198041701838978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2008/10/no-reservations.html' title='No Reservations'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-6992612721782811486</id><published>2008-08-28T22:22:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T19:06:14.649+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyone Deserves A Happy Ending</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Do you honestly believe that love in its purest form is unconditional? Social status, color, gender...do these really matter? Would you go against the odds or turn a deaf ear to society's rantings just to be with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;the one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;A lot of people from different walks of life have opted to use their minds over their hearts simply because it was the most convenient way to go about the situation. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-6992612721782811486?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/6992612721782811486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=6992612721782811486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/6992612721782811486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/6992612721782811486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2008/08/everyone-deserves-happy-ending.html' title='Everyone Deserves A Happy Ending'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-5869867838244070781</id><published>2008-02-27T01:35:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T14:08:48.712+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Expectations Latch Onto You Like Leeches That Drain You Of Your Sensibility</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Rejection can feel like a slap in the face no matter how brutally frank or subtle a person puts it across. As painful as the truth may be, the ultimate end in mind will be for the greater good. It may be the remedy to the pointless sleeplessness or to ease the burden of not knowing where you fit in someone’s universe. If there’s nothing to expect, there’s no better time but NOW to face reality and put an end to your misery. You will undoubtedly be freed from your captor in no time. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;I say indifference is the worst thing you can ever get out of the situation. A person who does not give a f*ck does not have any concern for your feelings. Maybe he’s torn, maybe he does not know what to say or do. Do not dwell on the what-ifs. Do not expect him to have a change of heart. We are only as good as the choices we make. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Just move right along and never look back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-5869867838244070781?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/5869867838244070781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=5869867838244070781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/5869867838244070781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/5869867838244070781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2008/02/great-expectations-latch-onto-you-like.html' title='Great Expectations Latch Onto You Like Leeches That Drain You Of Your Sensibility'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-2975088456339213545</id><published>2008-02-26T09:41:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T09:51:44.426+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Got Myself A Band-aid</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iXpFkLe-LDk/R8NwjNcAPwI/AAAAAAAAAAk/5DmRlOYagjY/s1600-h/broken+heart+2.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 195px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iXpFkLe-LDk/R8NwjNcAPwI/AAAAAAAAAAk/5DmRlOYagjY/s320/broken+heart+2.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171100547356311298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="EC_MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;The hole he has pierced into my heart isn’t really that big yet the wound is deep and has been fresh for quite some time now. At times he would seem so distant. I would feel as though we are drifting apart. The neglect temporary easing me of the sting of unrequited feelings. I never had the chance to make much of it until it was right in my face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="EC_MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;I prefer not to learn the truth first hand. Now that I can taste it, I realize that this is one of those endings that make you wish you could rewrite the plot. Perhaps change the characters and make the ending more agreeable. We never really get to redo our life's stories so we just learn to deal with the outcome of our actions. We get calloused and tend to think we will know better next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="EC_MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Oh, really now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="EC_MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-2975088456339213545?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/2975088456339213545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=2975088456339213545' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/2975088456339213545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/2975088456339213545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2008/02/got-myself-band-aid.html' title='Got Myself A Band-aid'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iXpFkLe-LDk/R8NwjNcAPwI/AAAAAAAAAAk/5DmRlOYagjY/s72-c/broken+heart+2.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-5837684165586282501</id><published>2008-02-13T09:31:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T20:42:12.006+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disappointment is slowly creeping up on me</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Somebody had the weirdest notion that letting him know how i feel would liberate me from the bondage i have set upon myself. That seeing with own eyes that he would remain unmoved will give me the closure that i desired. Instead, I find myself exposed like a gaping wound, more vulnerable than ever. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;i got my answer--indifference is a thousandfold worse than feelings reciprocated or even rejection.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-5837684165586282501?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/5837684165586282501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=5837684165586282501' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/5837684165586282501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/5837684165586282501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2008/02/disappointment-is-slowly-creeping-up-on.html' title='Disappointment is slowly creeping up on me'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-6216634892675581885</id><published>2007-12-30T20:00:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T14:37:28.825+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming Clean</title><content type='html'>When I feel their eyes on me, I can almost hear their thoughts. They are probably waiting for me to make a wrong move or do something controversial so they would have something juicy to talk about. They expect me to be predictable, to always go for the obvious choice. They were right about  a few things, smelled the gyst of some but they craved to tweak the details for their own enjoyment. They got one of the biggest stories distorted. If there are three versions of that story out there, only one is correct--MINE! This confuses another part of the population because of yet another myth about me.  Oh well. They say that you are nobody if you are not talked about. I just hope that the next time you hear something in the grapevine, you will use all logic and reason before deciding who are what to believe in. You might just find yourself in my shoes one of these days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-6216634892675581885?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/6216634892675581885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=6216634892675581885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/6216634892675581885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/6216634892675581885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/12/coming-clean.html' title='Coming Clean'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-1544053200315667141</id><published>2007-12-14T14:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T15:14:39.873+08:00</updated><title type='text'>tsk, tsk, tsk...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;There is an unmistakable tension between us lately. The force is unseen yet stands in my way like a monstrous, breathing barrier. Could it be paranoia, guilt or my suppressed feelings bursting at the seams? Emotions struggling to be made known...&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I've done my part--maybe not enough but I've done as much as my norms would allow. Maybe even a little beyond that. It's really up to him to decipher the signs. What if he has broken the codes but he didn't like what he found out? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;There is no time to regret things that cannot be undone. I think i have enough sense to know a brush-off when i see one :(&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-1544053200315667141?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/1544053200315667141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=1544053200315667141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/1544053200315667141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/1544053200315667141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/12/there-is-unmistakable-tension-between.html' title='tsk, tsk, tsk...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-6503265168079475984</id><published>2007-11-10T14:13:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T14:27:20.756+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the end of writer's block could only mean one thing...  :(</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Most people think they’ve got me figured out. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;They watch my every move, predicting what I would do next…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Deciding without thinking what to make out of what they see.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;They know nothing about me at all. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;They know nothing about the surreptitious feelings that is causing my despair.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;He has made it clear that I do not fit anywhere in his life.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Toxic as my schedule may be, I’m ready to drop whatever I’m doing just to be with him…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;To spend a brief moment of mirth simply having the most platonic conversation that can transpire &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Between two friends of opposite sexes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;I bet he knows not how I feel about him. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;It has probably never crossed his mind. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;How can he not notice how his smile lights up my face?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Our fleeting chitchats... &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;How oblivious can he get? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Does he turn a deaf ear or play blind to what he does not want to recognize? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;I could possibly love him but he doesn’t give a damn now, does he?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-6503265168079475984?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/6503265168079475984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=6503265168079475984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/6503265168079475984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/6503265168079475984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/11/blog-post.html' title='the end of writer&apos;s block could only mean one thing...  :('/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-4153922902267869635</id><published>2007-11-08T11:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T00:36:10.794+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where Serpents Dwell</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;The sound of her voice passes through my ear like a low steady hiss. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;I can almost see her split tongue flicking between her seemingly ceramic teeth. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;I feel her eyes on me…cold and observant. I dare not make a move nor &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Make a sound in fear of being attacked if I looked away.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;I guess that’s how serpents are. They shed skin inaudibly; creep up on you when you least expect it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I’ll watch your back if you watch mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-4153922902267869635?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/4153922902267869635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=4153922902267869635' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/4153922902267869635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/4153922902267869635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/11/where-serpents-dwell.html' title='Where Serpents Dwell'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-4631900123645337415</id><published>2007-09-21T18:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T19:07:24.918+08:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;"When God closes a door, He opens a window" I'm sure you've heard this before. I'm a firm believer of this and thankful that with all the heartaches I've had in this lifetime so far, He has never shut the door in my face and let me suffocate in my anguish. Getting over a broken heart is never easy but a diversion always comes along, the timing impeccable each time. Besides, there's no point wallowing in sadness, shedding more tears for someone who has chosen to take a different direction or simply does not reciprocate your feelings. What do you reckon? :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-4631900123645337415?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/4631900123645337415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=4631900123645337415' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/4631900123645337415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/4631900123645337415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/09/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-699684340841977324</id><published>2007-09-21T18:54:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T10:19:53.645+08:00</updated><title type='text'>it was quite a slap in the face...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="EC_MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;I am at a loss for words. I am taken aback by the revelation...a confirmation to the nagging suspicions, the answer i already saw coming.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="EC_MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="EC_MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;My stubborn heart would not let me embrace the impossibility of its craving. I can feel my chest tighten as i bite back the tears that threaten to flow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="EC_MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="EC_MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;I only have myself to blame for my affliction `cause I always end up breaking my own rules, falling into the same trap again and again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-699684340841977324?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/699684340841977324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=699684340841977324' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/699684340841977324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/699684340841977324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/09/it-was-quite-slap-in-face.html' title='it was quite a slap in the face...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-2797846196732848838</id><published>2007-08-20T14:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T14:33:36.672+08:00</updated><title type='text'>from scratch</title><content type='html'>Now that we have made amends, it's like getting to know you all over again. A mysterious stranger that swept me and countless others off our feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How cliché.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-2797846196732848838?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/2797846196732848838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=2797846196732848838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/2797846196732848838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/2797846196732848838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/08/from-scratch.html' title='from scratch'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-7338797340437655326</id><published>2007-08-13T00:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T14:37:41.685+08:00</updated><title type='text'>absinthe</title><content type='html'>It's in my blood, running through my veins. I feel it coursing through my entire being. They say it could temporarily rid me of my worries...a momentary fix for the happiness i crave. Surely they jest for it has magnified my pain tenfold, beckoning my other self, bringing forth feelings I've been desperately trying to conceal all this time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-7338797340437655326?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/7338797340437655326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=7338797340437655326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/7338797340437655326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/7338797340437655326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/08/absinthe.html' title='absinthe'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-1591701437733950984</id><published>2007-06-03T13:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T13:17:43.581+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Foolhardy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iXpFkLe-LDk/RmJOs9G3T4I/AAAAAAAAAAU/RijwBQlx_8o/s1600-h/broken_heart2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iXpFkLe-LDk/RmJOs9G3T4I/AAAAAAAAAAU/RijwBQlx_8o/s320/broken_heart2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071702664597163906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart feels like it's no longer there. Obliterated by your tactless mind. Your smile and your gaze my kryptonite. My proud demeanor you have dragged ruthlessly to the mud. I was completely fooled into thinking that we could be together nothing but the machinations of sheer want.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-1591701437733950984?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/1591701437733950984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=1591701437733950984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/1591701437733950984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/1591701437733950984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/06/foolhardy.html' title='Foolhardy'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iXpFkLe-LDk/RmJOs9G3T4I/AAAAAAAAAAU/RijwBQlx_8o/s72-c/broken_heart2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-1632323075465283157</id><published>2007-05-18T08:46:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T21:38:11.459+08:00</updated><title type='text'>saw it coming</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/imagebank/crayola.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;Have you ever felt too mesmerized to move, to make a decision, to just walk away?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;There are times when we are drawn to something. The attachment is inexplicable yet you just cannot rid your system of this fixation.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;The signs say it all&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;, you thought foolishly to yourself. You tried to avoid it but the distinct connection just latched on to your memory. you actually saw it coming,and now the truth stares back at you, mocking you. you have not been blind, you were justtoo caught up in the drama.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-1632323075465283157?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/1632323075465283157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=1632323075465283157' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/1632323075465283157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/1632323075465283157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/05/saw-it-coming.html' title='saw it coming'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-1300861425388740262</id><published>2007-01-05T09:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-15T11:33:01.687+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Torn</title><content type='html'>I always get caught between extremes. Contradicting forces that play with my emotions. Conflicting mind-trips that get me through the day. You can love one and hate him the next. Whatever their flaws may be, one complements what the other lacks. Who do i prefer again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-1300861425388740262?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/1300861425388740262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=1300861425388740262' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/1300861425388740262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/1300861425388740262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/01/torn.html' title='Torn'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-3595752212354981556</id><published>2007-01-01T11:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T22:17:36.292+08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year</title><content type='html'>Looking back, i get butterflies in my tummy thinking how 2006 just went by so rapidly. Every moment awaken in my memory, pulling me in different dirrections, fierce, melancholy and at the same time happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were so many chances wasted because of silly nothings. Beginnings that eventually faded to nothingness though the diversion and excitement were worth the while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-3595752212354981556?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/3595752212354981556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=3595752212354981556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/3595752212354981556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/3595752212354981556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2007/01/new-year.html' title='New Year'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-116416483563738420</id><published>2006-11-22T11:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-23T10:35:36.886+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jaded Returns</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;“It’s all about taking risks! You can't have your guard up all the time!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I’ve been told. I’ve played this game before, you know. So don’t think I don’t get the point. I get it, alright but something or someone always gets in the way. Why would I go on a suicide mission armed only with uncertainty and possibly one-sided affection for him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Bottom line is, I have opened windows and collapsed walls surrounding me. I scuttled to the door to open it but he wasn’t the one standing there. See? Bummer, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;A girl appreciates being put on a pedestal but it’s no fun just being up there with nothing but the air for company.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Oh well, on to the next chapter...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-116416483563738420?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/116416483563738420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=116416483563738420' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/116416483563738420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/116416483563738420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2006/11/jaded-returns.html' title='Jaded Returns'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-116279775250070809</id><published>2006-11-06T14:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T15:22:32.520+08:00</updated><title type='text'>yada, yada...</title><content type='html'>Remember your first heartbreak? That sappy, love-sick song you heard on the radio was telling the truth. You would wonder why the world hasn't stopped revolving, how everything around you was still the same when you feel like absolute crap. Pathetic, i know, but that's the bitter reality.You swore to yourself that you would know better next time but do we ever really learn? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You could have your guard up all the time and vow to only let it down when you are positively sure about this person but more often than not, history does repeat itself and you could end up right where you started. It's the choices that we make that change but the situations are mostly the same. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me more than a year to get over the fact that he's never coming back. He will always be my friend, he is just an e-mail or phone call away but he is living in his own world now (miles away!) so get over it. I did...but it sure wasn't a cakewalk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-116279775250070809?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/116279775250070809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=116279775250070809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/116279775250070809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/116279775250070809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2006/11/yada-yada.html' title='yada, yada...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-116272555206254408</id><published>2006-11-05T19:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-05T19:19:12.063+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Demise...</title><content type='html'>Grappled by the intensity of your smile,elated by your entrance and proximity. Reality dawns and my heart sinks,drowning me in the memory of your empty gaze.&lt;br /&gt;Am I not the biggest fool of all? Pretending…wishing silently.Ravaged by the blatant truth...ignorance could be sheer bliss...lies my only escape.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-116272555206254408?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/116272555206254408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=116272555206254408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/116272555206254408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/116272555206254408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2006/11/my-demise.html' title='My Demise...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-115476973895808279</id><published>2006-08-05T16:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-05T19:04:06.013+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Narf, the Scrunt and C-cleaveland H-h-heep</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1777/366/1600/poster1_large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 123px; height: 186px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1777/366/320/poster1_large.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Alot of people commented that the movie was weird, not typical hollywood, blah blah blah. EXACTLY! It wouldn't be an M. Night Film if it were your typical suspense/horror slasher/gore-fest flick.I didn't get bored watching this movie and it's refreshing to see something original every once in a while. Even the cinematography had shyamalan's signature all over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Visit &lt;a href="http://www.mnight.com/lady_in_the_water"&gt;http://www.mnight.com/lady_in_the_water&lt;/a&gt; to read more about the film and the writer-director.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your thoughts?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-115476973895808279?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/115476973895808279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=115476973895808279' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/115476973895808279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/115476973895808279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2006/08/narf-scrunt-and-c-cleaveland-h-h-heep.html' title='The Narf, the Scrunt and C-cleaveland H-h-heep'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-114645080732532216</id><published>2006-05-01T10:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T10:41:54.300+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Strangebrew II</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1777/366/1600/stain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1777/366/320/stain.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to erase you from my consciousness. To my utter frustration, you remain--stubborn as the stains from the coffee we once shared...pesky as your child-like mindtrip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-114645080732532216?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/114645080732532216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=114645080732532216' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/114645080732532216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/114645080732532216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2006/05/strangebrew-ii.html' title='Strangebrew II'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-114644946904654059</id><published>2006-05-01T09:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T10:11:09.063+08:00</updated><title type='text'>wada^%#$^*&amp;?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1777/366/1600/4714-phsh-broken-heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 93px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 89px" height="139" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1777/366/320/4714-phsh-broken-heart.jpg" width="202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was lovely to hear your voice again. It still never fails to soothe me whenever you sing for me--or that's what I want to think. Secretly I wished that the heartfelt words were for me, that I am the one that you love. Somehow, somewhere I foolishly discerned that this was possible but after all this time I realized...I am just a fall back girl and nothing more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-114644946904654059?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/114644946904654059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=114644946904654059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/114644946904654059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/114644946904654059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2006/05/wada.html' title='wada^%#$^*&amp;?!'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-114032826329373972</id><published>2006-02-19T13:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T11:07:52.770+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Strange Brew I</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Latte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;– mild enough to be comfy with though it could get boring that you need to add a little flavor to it and it doesn’t really keep me awake. Besides, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I just hate waiting around for all that milk to steam. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Caffe Americano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;– Strong, potent...I want more yet &lt;font&gt;too much of it could make my heart palpitate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt; with such vehemence.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 153, 51);font-size:100%;" &gt;Just thinking about it jolts me back to my senses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-114032826329373972?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/114032826329373972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=114032826329373972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/114032826329373972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/114032826329373972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2006/02/strange-brew-i.html' title='Strange Brew I'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-114032729685431483</id><published>2006-02-19T13:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-19T14:06:58.460+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tales From the Jeepney I</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1777/366/1600/5980597_162b4a7432_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1777/366/320/5980597_162b4a7432_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can feel their eyes on me...watching my every move...ears keen on every bit of the conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fat chick is glaring at me. Something in the way she is studying me from head to foot makes me want to rip out her eyes from their sockets and pull out her unkempt bleached hair from her head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dude near the gutter is stealing glances. He's probably just passing time like the rest of us who are stuck in this brunchtime traffic. Jaw dropped...hanging on to the discussion I was having with my sibling. Like a spectator at a tennis match who doesn't really get it.  I just wish that people would be more discreet when listening to other people's conversations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is how it feels to be under a microscope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-114032729685431483?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/114032729685431483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=114032729685431483' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/114032729685431483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/114032729685431483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2006/02/tales-from-jeepney-i.html' title='Tales From the Jeepney I'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-113886175578523620</id><published>2005-09-18T14:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T14:29:15.796+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cathartic Babble</title><content type='html'>My soul longs for him in his absence&lt;br /&gt;Yet my heart, the worn-down shelter&lt;br /&gt;Remains the docile ally of&lt;br /&gt;My mind that mocks me.&lt;br /&gt;Scars from two transient seasons&lt;br /&gt;haunt me...&lt;br /&gt;Possess me with&lt;br /&gt;Such fierce recollection&lt;br /&gt;Each time I wander to the edge--&lt;br /&gt;Hurling me back to my sedated realm.&lt;br /&gt;It turns out, there could be&lt;br /&gt;Beauty and Simplicity in oblivion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-113886175578523620?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/113886175578523620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=113886175578523620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/113886175578523620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/113886175578523620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2005/09/cathartic-babble.html' title='Cathartic Babble'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-111568492447531073</id><published>2005-05-10T08:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-29T14:21:58.753+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wake Up &amp; Smell What's Brewing...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Lately, my life has been a blur of a multitude of tasks at work. I'm kept partly sane by a 100 peso worth White Mocha Americano. Call me a caffeine junkie but there's nothing like warm coffee to soothe me and jolt me awake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If there's something else tangible in my life that keeps me from going over the edge, it's a person that I've relied on for emotional support. Unlike the potent coffee I crave for, this person will not give me heart trouble or disrupt my sleep. Or so I thought...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Today, I am resisting the urge to take in my usual dose of caffeine for health and financial reasons. At the same time, I'm struggling to exist without him as he has chosen to desert me at a time that I'm needing clarity. Sleep has temporarily left me while he, perhaps, has chosen to answer my questions by allowing me to unravel the obvious on my own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I realized that coffee will never leave me. I have chosen to rid my system of it. I, in turn, have been neglected by this person I thought I was important to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I learn most things the hard way yet I'd rather pursue the painful truth than live a lie and face an even greater heartbreak later on--when I have given so much and it's almost unimaginable to detach myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I can still have the coffee I want. But not even countless of espresso shots can wake me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This time, I'm on my own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-111568492447531073?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/111568492447531073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=111568492447531073' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111568492447531073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111568492447531073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2005/05/wake-up-smell-whats-brewing_10.html' title='Wake Up &amp; Smell What&apos;s Brewing...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-111568505309297478</id><published>2005-05-10T08:27:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-26T14:44:56.753+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Break</title><content type='html'>Do not feel pity.&lt;br /&gt;Do not show mercy.&lt;br /&gt;Just break me once...&lt;br /&gt;Hurt me with one blow.&lt;br /&gt;You only get one shot at&lt;br /&gt;Ripping my heart out and&lt;br /&gt;Trampling on it.&lt;br /&gt;When all this is done,&lt;br /&gt;You've done your part and&lt;br /&gt;Have proven your point.&lt;br /&gt;Let me be and Let me heal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-111568505309297478?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/111568505309297478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=111568505309297478' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111568505309297478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111568505309297478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2005/05/break.html' title='Break'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-111534684881219013</id><published>2005-05-06T10:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T10:52:08.660+08:00</updated><title type='text'>0% Interest</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;For the past 4-5 months, I've been battling with myself. Trying to put reason behind the seemingly endless cycle of indecipherable emotional affairs. I've gotten so bogged down that the simplest thing that gives me bliss is doubtful, every chance I get, every gesture, no matter how sincere it could possibly be, seem too good to be true. Call me paranoid but it just hurts to think that after all this time, I’m still easily exploited… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;I’m not really asking for much. I just want confirmation. I can't afford to have false hopes. I don't need to harbor wrong expectations. At the back of my head, I'm thinking...I don't want to be wrong again...Too much energy will be spent decoding stuff when my life is already complicated as it is. I just don’t want to be fixated on the thought of being made whole by something that, for all I know, only exists in my over-active imagination. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on the brighter side, I can only be a buffoon for so long. When I reach my threshold and decide to make things right, there will possibly be no turning back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-111534684881219013?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/111534684881219013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=111534684881219013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111534684881219013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111534684881219013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2005/05/0-interest.html' title='0% Interest'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-111180692603203706</id><published>2005-03-26T10:53:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-29T00:31:20.236+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coffee &amp; Chat</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why don't you just let him go,&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;April?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; A friend of mine asked me.&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Stop hurting yourself. Don't make the same mistakes that I did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I looked at her in disbelief. It was as if she were just asking me to cut down on caffeine or choose between tall or grande. I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't kidding...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts raced frantically in my head. Let go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;Now? How?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I could not imagine life without him. Damn! I am not exactly addicted to him like the coffee I gripped firmly in my hand. How do I get over someone who makes me in the main happy yet causes me emotional torment every once in a while? Call me paranoid but there’s no denying that he’s not the same. Why else would I miss him despite his presence? I have this gut feeling that I am this close to being just a speck in his universe. Nevertheless, I’m still aching for a sign that would tell me not to give up just yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feeling of uncertainty is driving me insane. I recklessly revealed my feelings without getting even a letdown to help me move on. I am more lost in the whole situation than I ever was. I am not asking for much, really. I’d rather be scorned or turned down than wait excruciatingly in vain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was once standing on the edge, about to lose my grip. Unfortunately, no one can save me now but myself. I have slipped and succumbed to the inevitable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-111180692603203706?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/111180692603203706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=111180692603203706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111180692603203706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111180692603203706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2005/03/coffee-chat.html' title='Coffee &amp; Chat'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-111066520676736420</id><published>2005-03-13T06:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-13T06:06:46.766+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/10047043.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-111066520676736420?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/111066520676736420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=111066520676736420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111066520676736420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111066520676736420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2005/03/image-hosted-by-photobucketcom.html' title=''/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-111066509300057669</id><published>2005-03-13T03:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-16T11:33:37.256+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back To Square 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;If there's one thing that I wish I could do right now, it would be to turn back time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only flinch at the thought that things are now completely different between us. I see him several times a week, get to spend time with him yet he seems distant in a way. We laugh, have our usual conversations, walk alongside the other yet, despite his nearness, I'm missing him terribly and inside, I feel like I have lost a huge part of what I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess if you've been hurt before, you simply can't help but put your guard up--denial your primary defense mechanism. Fate might already be handing you that chance to be happy but you just fuck it up with your pride and the nonsensical need to save face. All this would seem rational at that moment but would be utter bull once you realize what you’ve just thrown away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where do I stand in his life? What am I for him?&lt;/em&gt; Questions that lead to more questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could ask but it wouldn’t make sense anymore. He would probably laugh at my foolishness. I just missed my chance and I might not get another a shot at it. All I have to do now is wait and see. Wait for the answers...stand back and let the events unfold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to that one thing that supposedly makes the world go round, a person considered to be wise may be completely clueless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,153)"&gt;I am, after all,&lt;/span&gt; April Fool...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-111066509300057669?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/111066509300057669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=111066509300057669' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111066509300057669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/111066509300057669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2005/03/back-to-square-1.html' title='Back To Square 1'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-110620793901629096</id><published>2005-01-20T15:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-01-20T16:23:26.326+08:00</updated><title type='text'>For Love of the Game </title><content type='html'>Love is a game that I carelessly take part in.&lt;br /&gt;Despite past injuries, I remain a player. I've faltered&lt;br /&gt;yet I've been unyielding. I've embraced it as a part of&lt;br /&gt;my existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving fills part of the void in my soul, being loved&lt;br /&gt;back completes me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uncertainties can break me. insensitivity can tear&lt;br /&gt;me to shreds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While those supposedly make me stronger, it is never&lt;br /&gt;easy to appear unaffected and to pull back when you have&lt;br /&gt;given a little bit too much of yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-110620793901629096?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/110620793901629096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=110620793901629096' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110620793901629096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110620793901629096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2005/01/for-love-of-game.html' title='For Love of the Game '/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-110636953201285127</id><published>2005-01-15T13:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-01-22T12:52:12.013+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/holdinghands.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-110636953201285127?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/110636953201285127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=110636953201285127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110636953201285127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110636953201285127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2005/01/blog-post_15.html' title=''/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-110572599439518852</id><published>2005-01-15T01:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-01-22T12:49:03.496+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On the Brink...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;  &lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;If there's anything I hate about myself right this moment, it's the fact that I have not &lt;i&gt;completely&lt;/i&gt; learned my lesson. It has been drilled down to my head--supposedly--that I should never expect to avoid disappointments. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT EXPECT anything until a possibility has been confirmed or better yet affirmed as the real deal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It is only wise to hold back when faced with uncertainty. In my case, I have already taken too many steps towards the edge of the cliff, ergo, the need to pull back. The excitement and all the drama make it hard for me to move away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are stories with predictable endings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;I'm hanging on the edge and I'm losing my grip...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-110572599439518852?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/110572599439518852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=110572599439518852' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110572599439518852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110572599439518852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2005/01/on-brink.html' title='On the Brink...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-110141316288566841</id><published>2004-11-26T03:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-11-27T00:25:32.596+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodnight...</title><content type='html'>  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;I listened to his heavy breathing on the other end of my hands-free receiver. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Sigh!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;A few more minutes before the line got disconnected and he had drifted off to slumber. It hurt to think that he would sometimes cry himself to sleep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;He has always been there for me through my ups and downs. I would often gather my strength from him and I’ve always admired him for his courage and valued his opinions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;Listening to him cry and talk about his life’s struggles tore my heart to shreds. He’s such a good person, and whatever life he led, people had no right to judge him and he most certainly deserves to be happy. It was not his choice, he said. I think he deserves more respect than some people—individuals that our deranged society considers&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;normal.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;As I tried to grope for words of comfort to mutter, tears welled up in my eyes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;I wish I could take away his pain…I wish I could make all his problems disappear yet &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;It dawned on me that I couldn't. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;I can only try to make him feel my love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;I may not be the person who can make him &lt;i style=""&gt;feel &lt;/i&gt;again…my love may not be enough… and probably what I have to offer is not the kind of love he was seeking for…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;I wish I had all the answers but I don’t. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;I only wish that I could hold him in my arms and kiss him goodnight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-110141316288566841?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/110141316288566841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=110141316288566841' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110141316288566841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110141316288566841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/11/goodnight.html' title='Goodnight...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-110125810712670473</id><published>2004-11-24T07:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-01-16T15:10:23.603+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I've Learned My Lesson...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;Somebody asked me before whether I would chase after the person I love or go with the one who loves me, both being one-way. My answer back then was NEITHER. I don't have the heart to lie about my feelings and I have enough self esteem so I don't intend to chase after someone who clearly doesn't need me in his life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;If you would ask me again, I would choose the person who loves me. I am no martyr but I also don't have a heart of stone to not appreciate the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;simplest effort and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;small things someone would do just to make me happy. It feels wonderful to be loved and it's not always impossible to learn to love that person back in the long run. What more if he was constantly there to comfort you while you were depressed over that other guy who doesn't even deserve you...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;Should this be the case,just enjoy the company, don't expect nor demand too much. At this point, the possibilities are endless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-110125810712670473?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/110125810712670473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=110125810712670473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110125810712670473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110125810712670473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/11/ive-learned-my-lesson.html' title='I&apos;ve Learned My Lesson...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-110148685679309876</id><published>2004-09-18T13:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-11-27T00:37:10.710+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Out Of Sight</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;What is it that endears a person to you? Could it be the kind gestures, the close encounters or maybe the things that you have in common that could play with your thoughts and toy with your emotions, making you wonder--could the feeling be mutual? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;Out of nowhere, anything he does or say to you could possibly mean something, conversations are dissected, you try to read between the lines.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;div align="justify"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;   &lt;p align="justify" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; Oh Well, most realizations will not be pleasant...it could hit you like a blow to your face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;   &lt;p align="justify" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;Today, it just dawned on me that such false hopes are bred by your desperate longing to be loved back, that it clouds your mind, probably making you see things the way &lt;b&gt;&lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;want to see them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;The answers to your unending questions could be right there before your eyes but you're just too blind to see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-110148685679309876?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/110148685679309876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=110148685679309876' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110148685679309876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/110148685679309876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/09/out-of-sight.html' title='Out Of Sight'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108711035694979658</id><published>2004-06-13T15:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-06-13T15:09:07.716+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://img67.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/absinthe.jpg&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108711035694979658?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108711035694979658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108711035694979658' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108711035694979658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108711035694979658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/06/blog-post_13.html' title=''/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108710990407195805</id><published>2004-06-13T13:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-06-13T15:01:41.573+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wormwood </title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;NOUN&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. type of drink:&lt;/strong&gt; a highly alcoholic liqueur tasting of aniseed and made from wormwood and herbs. Absinthe is now banned in many countries because of its toxicity.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is like absinthe, strong, intoxicating and potentially dangerous to one's health. Shouldn't love be banned? It's easy for one to say that he would never fall in love again but once faced with another chance at love, can't keep away from it. The cons may overweigh the pros but still, isn't love all about taking risks and making sacrifices? These may be risks and sacrifices that won't necessarily help you end up together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Risks may involve losing someone's trust, destroying your friendship, depression and sacrifices would mean, being someone's scratching post, doing everything to make another person happy, losing sleep to spend time with that other person...sigh! The list goes on. But in the end, we just smile foolishly to ourselves and the hope lives on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108710990407195805?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108710990407195805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108710990407195805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108710990407195805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108710990407195805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/06/wormwood.html' title='Wormwood '/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108650787430633294</id><published>2004-06-06T15:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-06-06T15:44:34.306+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mush</title><content type='html'>I agree a hundred percent that when you fall in love, you fall hard that you can almost hear the sickening thud when this happens and the feeling just creeps up on you when you least expect it. Wether or not you willfully embrace the thought, in the end, you just give in to the fact that little by little, this other person is slowly becoming a part of you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no question why every word he says, every thing he does affects me. I can only be at ease when I know he's there. It doesn't even matter if he feels the same way. As long as I have him near I feel complete. As long as I know he cherishes me in some way, I feel alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108650787430633294?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108650787430633294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108650787430633294' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108650787430633294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108650787430633294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/06/mush.html' title='Mush'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108654544648246614</id><published>2004-06-05T02:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-06-07T02:10:46.483+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://img67.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/10131378.jpg&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108654544648246614?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108654544648246614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108654544648246614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108654544648246614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108654544648246614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/06/blog-post_05.html' title=''/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108607746427439526</id><published>2004-06-01T16:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-06-06T15:47:16.690+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's your opinion?</title><content type='html'>NOW let's discuss something reminiscent of our adolescence for a change. Hahaha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say that actions speak louder than words. If you don't have the guts to say what's on your mind to someone you like or feel like you're not yet ready to blurt out your true feelings in the open, how do you show a guy/girl how you feel? Anyone you're crushing on at the moment? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please feel free to post your answers, comments, violent reactions...Pls don't forget to put in your nickname at the end of your post. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108607746427439526?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108607746427439526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108607746427439526' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108607746427439526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108607746427439526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/06/whats-your-opinion.html' title='What&apos;s your opinion?'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108587540975723895</id><published>2004-05-30T07:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-05-30T15:00:36.030+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Foolish</title><content type='html'>It's amazing how a woman can be easily misled once a guy has her under his spell. He can make you feel like the most beautiful woman on the face of the planet and can make your head spin at the thought that every sweet gesture he makes, he makes only for you. It's not entirely the guy's fault as a woman on cloud 9 would willingly walk into the captor's lure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is just unfortunate that baits that will get you hooked in this lifetime won't always be meant for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108587540975723895?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108587540975723895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108587540975723895' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108587540975723895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108587540975723895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/05/foolish.html' title='Foolish'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108459906909334759</id><published>2004-05-15T12:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-06-12T10:09:42.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'>He Will Be Mine...Not! </title><content type='html'>I have finally laid eyes on the most gorgeous couch I've ever seen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Wayne Campbell would mutter in the flick Wayne's world, I just had to say to myself that &lt;em&gt;"It will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine..."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I looked at the furniture shop display, it was like a glossy page ripped out of &lt;em&gt;House Beautiful&lt;/em&gt;. It was perfect! My heart beat almost painfully in my chest as I inched closer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bent over to turn over the tag attached to check how much it would cost me to own my dream couch. My heart sank when instead of seeing the price, it read &lt;strong&gt;SOLD&lt;/strong&gt;. I've already imagined how it would look against my living room's off-white wall, how the pillows would look just casually tossed on it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to think of it, this is like the guys I meet and fall for. Beautiful creatures that would spice up your life but they would never really belong to you. Women often complain that the good ones are either taken, married or gay. Maybe we just have the psychological tendency to want things that are unattainable. Do we lose interest for things that are readily available?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would probably be utter madness to lose my grip on reason. But reason tells me not to let go for without him, things are bound to get drabby.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108459906909334759?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108459906909334759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108459906909334759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108459906909334759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108459906909334759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/05/he-will-be-minenot.html' title='He Will Be Mine...Not! '/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108408277121189292</id><published>2004-05-09T13:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-06-21T10:52:04.710+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I've Got Better Things To Worry About</title><content type='html'>Most of the time I feel content with singlehood. I have better things to worry about, I have my brother's pre-med tuition, credit card bills, sky-high cellphone bill and my team's high absenteeism (hah! This one's almost fixed!) to worry about. I shouldn't have time for this! But the loneliness just manages to sneak up on me. Like a huge fanged mouth ready to eat me alive. There will be moments when you'd want to hold someone's hand and you'd just be reaching out, and find yourself groping at the chilly air. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108408277121189292?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108408277121189292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108408277121189292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108408277121189292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108408277121189292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/05/ive-got-better-things-to-worry-about.html' title='I&apos;ve Got Better Things To Worry About'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108408152727577647</id><published>2004-05-09T13:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-06-21T10:58:20.406+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forget it, it's time for a reality check!</title><content type='html'>I've tried to convince myself that I don't need a significant other. Why would I let myself fall for someone and just lose him later on? I've experienced the thrill of falling little by little...your heart like a big balloon ready to pop any minute until...the final plunge.  No words can describe exactly how it feels when your emotions and your reality revolve around one person. Hell, it can get crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time, I forget one thing. It's called a REALITY CHECK.  Did I stop gushing for a second to wonder if he feels the same way?! Is he interested or involved with someone--someone who's not me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it dawns on you how useless everything is, you tell yourself, probably for the nth time, that you'll never fall in love again but, we never really learn, do we?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108408152727577647?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108408152727577647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108408152727577647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108408152727577647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108408152727577647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/05/forget-it-its-time-for-reality-check.html' title='Forget it, it&apos;s time for a reality check!'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108390571477784644</id><published>2004-05-07T12:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-06-21T11:03:25.220+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mad about ...w/c one again?</title><content type='html'>I got myself a diversion to escape my madness and the one I was trying to evade has just become my diversion for my diversion. Hah! How crazy but true! Just to elaborate and further confuse you, I liked &lt;strong&gt;Guy A&lt;/strong&gt;, but then I said to myself that he would never like me the way I liked him and decided to find another..eherm...inspiration. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I will ever learn my lesson. I know that one of the worst ways to get over someone is to condition myself to like someone else...especially if you happen to just notice someone by accident. I got the chance to get to know &lt;strong&gt;Guy B&lt;/strong&gt; better and he turned out to be really sweet, sensitive and we have a lot in common. I developed a humongous crush on him but then, things start to get weird...there's the crazy jealousy, my sudden poetic frenzy and the pathetic longing to spend as much time with him as I possibly could. I couldn't go any further. One more step and I'd be falling off the cliff. It would be so wrong to entertain my feelings. It would indeed be suicidal to embrace the thought. Not only was I willing to bet that it was another tragic case of love unrequited (hah! sure!) I would be living a lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being away from work has its advantages. Shitty but true, absence does make the heart grow fonder. When I saw &lt;strong&gt;Guy A&lt;/strong&gt; last night I was back to my old habit. Don't we always remember the originals?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108390571477784644?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108390571477784644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108390571477784644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108390571477784644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108390571477784644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/05/mad-about-wc-one-again.html' title='Mad about ...w/c one again?'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108479115551428966</id><published>2004-05-06T18:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-05-17T18:53:48.936+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;img src=http://img67.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/c1326421.jpg&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108479115551428966?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108479115551428966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108479115551428966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108479115551428966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108479115551428966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/05/blog-post_06.html' title=''/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-10838126346240597</id><published>2004-05-06T05:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T11:43:10.706+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting in Vain</title><content type='html'>Waiting for the phone to ring is like waiting for the axe to fall&lt;br /&gt;to end my misery. In moments such as this, time slows down unbearably, every second ticking by almost audibly.  It's such an unpleasant experience especially if &lt;em&gt;the wait was all in vain...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-10838126346240597?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/10838126346240597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=10838126346240597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/10838126346240597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/10838126346240597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/05/waiting-in-vain.html' title='Waiting in Vain'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108460139424703627</id><published>2004-05-06T01:35:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T09:28:33.848+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Strange Addiction</title><content type='html'>I have grown a strange&lt;br /&gt;addiction to your smile.&lt;br /&gt;Your silhouette,&lt;br /&gt;a dazing memory in my head.&lt;br /&gt;Like crack, I long for your presence&lt;br /&gt;taciturn and lingering&lt;br /&gt;like the sound of your voice&lt;br /&gt;Your mind is an exhilarating roller coaster ride.&lt;br /&gt;My mind spins at your touch&lt;br /&gt;Your skin, like the capuccino I crave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108460139424703627?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108460139424703627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108460139424703627' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108460139424703627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108460139424703627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/05/strange-addiction.html' title='Strange Addiction'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108312401015539979</id><published>2004-04-28T11:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-05-22T15:24:50.360+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How Lovesick Can I Get?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I have fallen madly in love....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am crazily in love with the thought of being in love. I'm longing for the excitement, I want to feel butterflies in my stomach...I miss the reckless, nearly masochistic way of thinking...thinking only of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quit the search&lt;/em&gt;, I say. Love would come to me when I least expect it. Still, I am hopeful that this person I'm eyeing is the one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if he senses it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'd be unfeeling if he didn't have the slightest clue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108312401015539979?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108312401015539979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108312401015539979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108312401015539979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108312401015539979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/04/how-lovesick-can-i-get.html' title='How Lovesick Can I Get?!'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108312230992003763</id><published>2004-04-28T11:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T10:56:15.723+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Feelings Would Just Creep Up On You...</title><content type='html'>They say everything happens for a reason but, no matter how strange the situation  seems or how treacherous certain feelings just creep up on you, don't you just act on impulse and worry about the consequences later on?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108312230992003763?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108312230992003763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108312230992003763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108312230992003763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108312230992003763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/04/some-feelings-would-just-creep-up-on.html' title='Some Feelings Would Just Creep Up On You...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108283923103379985</id><published>2004-04-25T04:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-05-22T15:42:01.933+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Entrapped!</title><content type='html'>Some guys would just lead you on. Messing up your brain with their charms....playing you on with their wit and sweet words, weakening your defenses.The bait is cunningly set until you fall helplessly into the trap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108283923103379985?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108283923103379985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108283923103379985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108283923103379985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108283923103379985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/04/entrapped.html' title='Entrapped!'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108194664933103584</id><published>2004-04-14T19:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-06-13T13:59:29.173+08:00</updated><title type='text'>All Dogs Probably Go To Heaven...</title><content type='html'>I occasionally find myself complaining about the smallest things. It's something innately human and I hate it when people complain about almost everything. I sometimes loathe the reality that I'm unattached, that I don't have self-control or that I don't have this and that. Most of the time, I would find it bearable to be single because I have my beloved family and my friends to keep me company and not to mention my cute and smart doggie. Whenever I'm with them, everything is alright. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, one of my allies left me, leaving me in pieces. It was just a few days ago that everything was perfect when all of a sudden, my dog's  health just deteriorated.  Guilt is gnawing at me. Lately, I've been too busy to spend as much time with her as i did before. She never complained, She'd be satisfied with me acknowledging her presence and a belly-rub would always make her day. She never failed to show her loyalty and always reciprocated our love and how much she appreciated how everyone in the household took care of her like she really was part of our family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think everyone would understand why someone could be depressed over a dog but if you only got the chance to spend over a year with a special one, you'd be in tears too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd probably get another dog but Tiny could never be replaced. I'd miss her frantic barks whenever she heard my voice when I get home from work and when she was aware that we were having a meal, how overly excited she got when she sees us going her way. She enjoyed our company as much as we enjoyed hers. Tiny would be greatly missed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108194664933103584?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108194664933103584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108194664933103584' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108194664933103584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108194664933103584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/04/all-dogs-probably-go-to-heaven.html' title='All Dogs Probably Go To Heaven...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735076.post-108134113133336205</id><published>2004-04-07T19:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-05-22T15:43:58.076+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spot the Flaw, tee hee...</title><content type='html'>   i am having a blog-worthy moment and i can't even bring myself to write about it. Am i not sad enough about my loveless existence??!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Pardon the sensless babble but i have always considered myself lucky and proud of the fact that I'm not the stereotype female...i am and will never be weak and will never give in to my emotions.    &lt;br /&gt;   Or so i thought... &lt;br /&gt;   I also regret that at times I can get too conventional and too chickenshit to face my feelings. And I have missed too many opportunities to find myself a significant other. &lt;br /&gt;   One really detestable trait that i have is the subconcious urge to torment myself. "There's beauty in sadness" i say. What the hell?! The best literary pieces were produced by depressed--or should I say disturbed people. Harhar...&lt;br /&gt;   I just met the beautiful,straight man of my dreams who's got the right IQ and the right attitude, but then  i end up asking if I walked in my sleep and fell over? It feels like i hit my head on a hard surface and got brain damage. what the hell am i thinking...on the verge of falling for someone who will never be mine...If there's something wrong with the picture...it's that he's in-love with the wrong girl...the girl is not me. &lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;   &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6735076-108134113133336205?l=caughtinablur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/feeds/108134113133336205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6735076&amp;postID=108134113133336205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108134113133336205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6735076/posts/default/108134113133336205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caughtinablur.blogspot.com/2004/04/spot-flaw-tee-hee.html' title='Spot the Flaw, tee hee...'/><author><name>d@zed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09301144330898989856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/grapegum/DSC04484.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
