<?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-8529065901665937340</id><updated>2011-10-08T22:43:40.250+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Is Unpredictable</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>121</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1425673165123486367</id><published>2011-02-05T14:44:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T14:47:17.592+08:00</updated><title type='text'>/-</title><content type='html'>Screw the last post. Haha. Shao Jun would probably strangle me if she ever reads this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not gonna quit ballet YET! HAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I know I'm being stupid and lame. But I'm just so bored rotting at home during this wonderful holiday. It's Chinese New Year and for once, I don't even feel like celebrating. I don't feel like there's anything special. Boo. I miss my cousins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, Happy Chinese New Year everyone! =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1425673165123486367?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1425673165123486367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2011/02/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1425673165123486367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1425673165123486367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2011/02/blog-post.html' title='/-'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-3577040468010542511</id><published>2011-01-09T23:30:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T23:53:07.405+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Piece of Cake?</title><content type='html'>I survived the first week of school. And so the routine goes on again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27th January 2011&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The day I dread. The day that I wish will never arrive. So I've decided. Hopefully, a decision that I will never regret. Due to the increasing amount of my tuition classes, and the few important examinations I have to take this year (ATCL, theory grade 8 AND the most important one, SPM), I have decided to stop ballet. And this time, for real. No more &lt;em&gt;"aiya, I think I don't want to stop already la. I can't let go. So, haha. I'm continuing my ballet lessons!"&lt;/em&gt; No. Yes, I can't let go. That much is true. But I have to, or else I might fail my papers. It's been like, what? About 14 years? Yeah. I started dancing since I was about 3. So, 2010 was my last concert. My last chance dancing infront of a crowd of people that I don't even know. Audience. I know I've always said that I wanted to quit, but I continued cause it was always &lt;em&gt;"oh, just one more grade, then I'll quit for good"&lt;/em&gt;. Not anymore. I'm going to miss all of this. I'm going to miss dancing with the people who's seen me make a fool out of myself, who's watched me grow up like family, who's been there with me through thick and thin, learning all those steps in foreign terms, the people who's seen me dancing so clumsily like a hippo but never made fun of me. I'm going to miss my second family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I wouldn't call myself a ballerina, cause I don't think I've reached that standard. I've never even performed onstage in my pointe shoes, a dream I've always dreamed, and will continue to dream. So, as a &lt;em&gt;ballet dancer&lt;/em&gt;, I've certainly learnt alot. In my many years of learning ballet, I've become a stronger person, and more disciplined. When I'm onstage, I'll always look confident although there's really a hurricane and a tornadoe inside of me, killing all the butterflies in my stomach thus making me more nervous than nervous. But, that's on the inside. I'm always happy to perform. Ballet made me love the stage. I still remember how teacher would find ways to make us understand what we're supposed to do and not do eg. poisonous skirts so that we have a nice brabarre. The teachers, I'll definitely miss them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  They say ballet is for the weaklings, it's not a sport. Football's a sport. Well, I'd say if you can't survive in ballet, you can't survive in football. But if you survive in ballet, football's just a piece of cake. Get what I mean? No? Try ballet then, you'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  27th January 2011, my last day as a ballet dancer. I'll certainly miss all of it. I don't want to regret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-3577040468010542511?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/3577040468010542511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2011/01/piece-of-cake.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3577040468010542511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3577040468010542511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2011/01/piece-of-cake.html' title='Piece of Cake?'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6424879874527998518</id><published>2011-01-04T15:00:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T21:18:37.309+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2011</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;  It's 2011 baybeh!!! WOOOHOOOO!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; Yeah, that's kinda what everyone's shouting about. It's 2011. So, Happy New Year to the dear homo sapiens/alien/monster/dinosaur/ant/chair who actually still drops by my blog to read my craps. Thank you. And may the year be an awesome one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  2011. I'm in what would most probably (hopefully) be my senior year. Yay!NOT. Being a Form 5 means only one thing. SPM. What's SPM? SPM is the passport that every Malaysian who studies in a government school needs in order to pursue a higher education. If you don't take your SPM, you can forget about having any college/university taking you in. Stressful, but still a torturing phase that every student has to go through. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  Anyway, celebrated new year's eve at Mabel's. Had bbq and loads of fun. Said goodbye to 2010 while watching the fireworks. I guess 2010 was a great year. Overall, everything was great. I've met new friends, improved in certain aspects, and recorded with my friends. Oh, did I mention 2010 was also the year I freaking failed for the first time? Yeah. Pfft.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  So, Monday was the first day of school. Everything was great until it started raining monkeys and dinosaurs. I was stuck in a massive human jam since I forgotten my umbrella that day. It was horrible. And the fact that I looked like some little girl who had to go to the little girls room because of the way I was clenching my skirt made things worse (and hilarious). Thank goodness mum came with umbrellas like a super hero and I finally got home. My shoes were completely soaked, my uniform was still wet despite my efforts to keep it dry cause I don't like getting wet in my uniform. It's mad uncomfortable. Ugh. Other than that, school was great. I think. I have really nice teacher this year, and hopefully, I won't turn them into monsters by missing all their homework again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  This year, I'm not going to make a whole list of resolutions again cause they don't really work. I only made things worse. One of my resolutions last year was to get full attendance in school. Instead, I missed a whole lot of classes due to many stupid reasons. The number of days I didn't go to school should be more than 100 including the holidays. That's bad. Real BAD. So, this year, I'm just gonna ignore the whole resolution thing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Nic-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6424879874527998518?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6424879874527998518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6424879874527998518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6424879874527998518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011.html' title='2011'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-4120235671320497470</id><published>2010-12-16T22:40:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T22:53:19.671+08:00</updated><title type='text'>ah choo</title><content type='html'>This morning reminds me of a small town called Forks. Sounds familiar? Yeah, the whole Twilight story was based in Forks. The sky was dark and gloomy, and it drizzled from time to time. Couldn't stop sneezing the whole day since I didn't get my usual dose of vitamin D as there wasn't enough sunshine. I was cold, inside and out. During my piano lesson, a normal piece that takes about 15 minutes to finish took me more than 20 minutes instead. Why? Cause I couldn't stop sneezing. I think I sneezed more than 10 times in one page. Seriously. It was non-stop 'ah choo ah choo ah choo' all the way. Sighs. I need more sunlight.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Nic-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-4120235671320497470?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/4120235671320497470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/12/ah-choo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4120235671320497470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4120235671320497470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/12/ah-choo.html' title='ah choo'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1129257389649710769</id><published>2010-11-15T20:02:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T20:20:09.568+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Monkeys and Elephants</title><content type='html'>It's raining almost everyday here. I love the wind, but not the rain. The feeling of the wind blowing through the hair is just wonderful, but having your hair soaked with rain after you just pampered it with shampoo, conditioner and a nice blow-dry is NOT wonderful. I wanted to go and check out some stuff but couldn't cause it was raining monkeys and elephants. Hmph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Tomorrow's the last day of school. I guess I really have to go this time cause I missed almost the whole week AND I need to collect my textbooks. Crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1129257389649710769?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1129257389649710769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/11/monkeys-and-elephants.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1129257389649710769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1129257389649710769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/11/monkeys-and-elephants.html' title='Monkeys and Elephants'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-2566371009066498126</id><published>2010-11-06T16:19:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T16:20:57.637+08:00</updated><title type='text'>haha</title><content type='html'>Finals are over. Thank goodness. I think I need to start doing something with my life. I'm so lifeless. I'm just lazing around the whole day. Pfft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, nothing. Yeah. Sorry bout that. Oh, my throat hurts btw. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-2566371009066498126?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/2566371009066498126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/11/haha.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2566371009066498126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2566371009066498126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/11/haha.html' title='haha'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6332688231683984162</id><published>2010-10-17T15:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T16:16:13.615+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's Next?</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow's the frist day of my finals and I'm still sitting here instead of studying. I guess I'd really deserve it if I failed, right? Sighs. Anyway, Adam Lambert's concert. I heard that it was amazing. Sold out. The best. But, when I picked up the newspaper the next day, I was really, unhappy? I dont know. Disappointed? Frustrated? Embarrassed? I still can't find a word to describe how I felt. Feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  We're supposed to be an open-minded country, right? Then, why in the world did you protest during the concert? That's just really humiliating. What do you think you'll get from protesting about him performing in our country? Nothing! Or was your aim to tarnish the country's image? Well, congrats then. Cause that's exactly what you've done. Good job. Adam Lambert performing here in our country is something we should be proud and happy about. Not...whatever you people think. Sure, he's gay. So what? What's wrong with being gay? FYI, he did not choose to be one. That's his nature. Protesting just because he's gay is just so unfair. Hello? I bet there are hundreds and thousands of gays and lesbos in our country. What are you gonna do, huh? Cast them out of the country. Discriminate them? What happened to all your moral values? Chances of non-gay people becoming gay just because some celebrity who's a gay comes to perform are one in a million. How in the country going to improve if we all think just like you? We'll be a laughing stock to the world. How many concerts have we banned? And why? Because they wear leotards, mini skirts, they're gay, their music is not suitable? You wanna know something funny? While watching a local production the other day, I saw those women wearing just a sarong and I was like "Wa, can wear like that one meh?" Mum looked at me and told me that back in those days, that was exactly what the kampung people wear. A sarong wrapped around them. Just like how I wrap myself with my towel after I take a bath. So, what happened then? You tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You protest against Adam Lambert for performing in the country. Do you know how much we'll lose if he never comes again? If nobody wants to perform here again because of that incident?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Malaysia, truly Asia? FAIL.&lt;br /&gt;Why? I'll tell you why. Have you ever thought, that by having a celeb like Lambert performing in our country, tourist would come and visit us? I know that his die hard fans will definitely do anything just to watch him perform. Lambert didn't stop at every country in Asia for his tour. So, the fans who are in the countries that are not included in his tour will come to the countries who are included in his tour. OUR COUNTRY. And, after or before the concert, maybe those fans, who will also be tourists, will have a look-see around the country. See the beauty of the earth. What does that mean? Our tourism sector will improve la! But, what happened? Smart people think they're so smart, go and protest. So, how? Less world class performers want to come here. Then what will happened? Figure it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Less income for the country.&lt;br /&gt;Why? When those fans (tourists) come to our country, they usually stay here for a while, right? That means we get more income. How? Obviously, when foreigners come, they need a place to stay. They need food and drinks. They buy souvenirs. They visit our malls. They visit the tourist spots. They are spending money in our country. What does that mean? It means WE GET MORE MONEY. But, now? Too bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-The country's image? GONE.&lt;br /&gt;Let's see. First, there was all the racial problems which caused a huge stir. Hopefully it's settled now. Then, there was the shooting of the 9 pedigree dogs who were innocent, WHICH, until now, I still can't forgive those people. Yeah, I'm talking bout you BASTARDS. 6 Rottweilers, 2 Dalmations and a Bulldog. DEAD. Just like that. And why? Because those brainless bastards killed them. You say that they were aggresive? Bullshit. Even a child can tell that dalmations are not aggresive. You say that they attacked animals from the farm? They were starving for goodness sake! What? You expect them to go to the neighbour, knock on the door and say "Hey, I'm from the farm next door. My owners killed someone and they were taken away by the cops. So, nobody's been feeding us. Mind giving some food?" Is that what you think the poor dogs should have done? I bet you would have done the same thing if you were in that condition. The only difference is that you'll probably barbeque the meat before eating because your pea-sized brain told you so. Those dogs had every reason to be aggresive. They were starving, and their teritory was being intruded by strangers. They were just fending for themselves. They just wanted food. They just wanted to survive. But, what happened? Idiots who probably dont even have brains the size of a pea SHOT THEM DEAD. I'm disgusted. Sometimes, when I think about this, I feel ashamed. Why? I can't tell you here. Ask me personally if you really don't know. But you should probably know what I'm saying. So, the poor dogs problem caused an international outrage. Then, what happens next? They protest against gay people performing here. Yeah. What a way to promote the country's image. A huge round of applause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I wonder what's next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  There's so much more that I want to type, but, unfortunately, I have to go and study. I still haven't finished memorising my moral values (which I doubt will be of any use since the people I thought I respect don't even possess a quarter of what we learnt from those values in their lives, thus making me lose all my respect for them) for the exam. Good luck to everyone out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6332688231683984162?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6332688231683984162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/10/whats-next.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6332688231683984162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6332688231683984162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/10/whats-next.html' title='What&apos;s Next?'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-8519471193233234502</id><published>2010-10-07T22:12:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T22:34:57.224+08:00</updated><title type='text'>forever and always</title><content type='html'>Been really lazy these days. I just don't feel like doing anything. But I finished NickyyNick. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, went back to Lick Hung on Saturday (2.10.10) to celebrate mooncake festival with everyone. Felt really good stepping in there. It's been so long since I last saw the inside of those buildings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Met some of the 6D/2006 peeps who came. I didn't realise how much I've missed them til I saw their faces. I guess maybe being in the school added to the emotional thing. Still. I love these people. In fact, I'll make sure that when I grow old, say maybe 50 or 60 or older, I'll still remember all their names. Yeah, I'll do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525307907977555810" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/TK3WRJmor2I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/Oc62W1-QgN8/s400/6D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;6D/2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525311540297984898" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/TK3ZklDT64I/AAAAAAAAAPY/pbhsN78HL-U/s400/bff.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Best friends, forever and always.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;-Nic-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-8519471193233234502?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/8519471193233234502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/10/forever-and-always.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8519471193233234502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8519471193233234502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/10/forever-and-always.html' title='forever and always'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/TK3WRJmor2I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/Oc62W1-QgN8/s72-c/6D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-4109192194976546594</id><published>2010-09-23T22:28:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T22:36:58.458+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Now...</title><content type='html'>This medidating crap really works, surprisingly. At least I don't curse that much now. I should continue this routine until the end of SPM cause I'm sure that all those stress will make me curse more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, skipped school yesterday due to food poisoning. Pfft. My immune system's getting weaker each day. Ish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I feel like there's nothing much to blog about these days, or maybe I'm just getting lazier and lazier. Hah. So, exams are postponed. Yay not? Good thing is, there's more time to prepare for the exam, though I don't study. So, it's kinda just crap to me. Bad thing? I can't skip school before the holidays. UGH. Why la they have to go and push it so far away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have to stress out for a longer time cause my exam's later.&lt;br /&gt;Now I have to miss all those extra holidays I was planning to take.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm gonna have to cancel all my plans.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm gonna miss Deepavali.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm gonna get more white hair.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm gonna get more wrinkles.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm gonna age faster and therefore die faster.&lt;br /&gt;NOW I'M ANNOYED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Seriously. ME NO HAPPY SMILEY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-4109192194976546594?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/4109192194976546594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/09/now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4109192194976546594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4109192194976546594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/09/now.html' title='Now...'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-2480898471948828655</id><published>2010-09-20T22:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T22:27:13.940+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Whadaya know...</title><content type='html'>...school wasn't that bad after all. Maybe it's cause there's only 4 subjects today, but still, I'm happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I think I really need to do some meditation now. Get rid of all the negative stuff and fill myself with more positive thoughts and energy. All those &lt;em&gt;chi&lt;/em&gt; and stuff. Really. I've been so negative and vulgar these days I even surprise myself. Perhaps I should try some yoga and relaxation stretches thingi at home. Yeah, I might just do that. I can imagine myself already sitting in that lotus position and humming &lt;em&gt;ohm...ohm...ohm...&lt;/em&gt; for about 30 minutes each day. Yeah. Maybe I'll do that. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-2480898471948828655?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/2480898471948828655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/09/whadaya-know.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2480898471948828655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2480898471948828655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/09/whadaya-know.html' title='Whadaya know...'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-2348517007129793231</id><published>2010-09-19T22:00:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-19T22:43:41.374+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heartless beasts.</title><content type='html'>I really really really hate it when people are being cruel. Just open any paper these days and you'll see that there's another abandoned baby somewhere. Each time I read these, I really feel like grabbing those idiots by the collar and shout right in their face. I mean, what's wrong with your head? That's a freaking life you're throwing for goodness sake! That baby could grow up to be a prodigy, a good leader, a person who might save thousands of lives and you're just throwing it away like that? What if that baby was you, what would your world be like? NOTHING. You know why? CAUSE YOU'RE ALREADY DEAD. You don't have a chance at all you grow up and see the world thanks to your irresponsible parent(s). You had a chance to live, don't you think those babies deserve just the same?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You think that by throwing the baby away, all your problems are solved. Why, did you grow up consuming nothing but shit and piss? Helloo? Technology and trace everything right back to you, idiot. But it's too late by then because most of the babies are probably dead already. You're really that scared of a little baby? Afraid that people will scorn at the sight of you and spit at you when you're crossing the road? Tell you what, people WILL do that when they find out that you're one of those idiots who threw the baby away. KILLER. Ashamed? Embarassed? Why? If you're so worried about all these up to the point where you'd throw a life away, why in the world did you do it anyway? It's as easy as pie. No sex, no baby. And if you really can't control your sexual desires, ever heard of contraceptive pills? Diaphragm? Or the one everyone knows, condom? Or if you're that lazy to use one of those and you don't want a baby, go to the doctor and ask them to operate you. You can then go around screwing everyone without worrying that you'll get pregnant/get someone pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Stupid killer. You're destroying a life. Fuck you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Videos of fuckers who think that they're so damn fucking smart by abusing a poor animal and fucking recording it are circulating around the net. I'm sorry for my language but I'm just really pissed off. I hate it when people are cruel to animals. You think animals have no feelings? You think animals don't have a life? Well, FUCK YOU. Why, does throwing puppies into the river, or kicking a poor defenseless puppy, putting fireworks into it's mouth and lighting it up, hitting it with poles, putting the pole on it's neck and jumping on it, or stepping on a kitten with stilettos, or chaining a dog until it bleeds..etc, does it all seem that fun to you? How about we turn it the other way round, how do you like it then you heartless bastard. These animals you tortured, killed, are not animals. You're the animal. Scratch that. You're not even an animal because animals have more compassion and feelings. I don't even know if the word beast describes you. Fuck you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  School's staring tomorrow. Now I miss the holidays. I don't think I can even wake up in time let alone hop out of bed and drag myself to school. Heck, I haven't even done my homework. Screw it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-2348517007129793231?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/2348517007129793231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/09/heartless-beasts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2348517007129793231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2348517007129793231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/09/heartless-beasts.html' title='Heartless beasts.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-5835734395201326300</id><published>2010-09-04T22:43:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T23:05:36.386+08:00</updated><title type='text'>wtf.?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=bb4_1283184704"&gt;http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=bb4_1283184704&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  WHAT THE FUCK. Seriously, I hope this bitch gets run over and dragged for 400m by a 1000 tonne truck, abandoned by the side of a road where nobody gives a damn thought about her until some psycho freak sex maniac passes by and rapes her before he tortures her with a barbed wire pole and then throws her into the river just like what she did to those pups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Dear puppies, rest in peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I know I'll probably go to hell for cursing someone so badly. But, honestly, I hate it when people are cruel to animals. There's a whole lot more I'd like to say but then, I'd rather keep it to myself. Don't want people to think I'm some crazy freak. Still, I hate her. HATE her. God forgive me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-5835734395201326300?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/5835734395201326300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/09/wtf.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5835734395201326300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5835734395201326300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/09/wtf.html' title='wtf.?!'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7557644050720593369</id><published>2010-09-02T23:24:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T23:31:38.442+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Dance</title><content type='html'>Nothing much to blog about my life cause mine is a boring one. But, these videos are definitely NOT boring. Enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZAqGrlySrTE?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZAqGrlySrTE?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/X-Go5eCjUZA?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/X-Go5eCjUZA?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0KKo6KvGVF0?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0KKo6KvGVF0?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amazing, ain't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7557644050720593369?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7557644050720593369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/09/just-dance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7557644050720593369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7557644050720593369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/09/just-dance.html' title='Just Dance'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6774536248037194004</id><published>2010-08-20T22:40:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T23:16:42.084+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random</title><content type='html'>I was really bored, and I was thinking if I should go to school tomorrow cause I still have that stupid migraine and crap. So, I decided to modify Hilary Duff's 'Little Voice' into something cause I was really really REALLY bored. So, yeah. Let me know what you think. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Little Voice - Nic's version&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't know why but I keep on&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Asking all these questions though I am through&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thinking if I should go to school&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Or should I stay at home and read some books&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I keep hearing this voice in my head&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And it's saying go ahead. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A little voice in my head tells me that I should skip&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tomorrows lessons in school cause I ain't gonna keep&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My books and pack my school bag, I just gave it a kick&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A little voice in my head tells me that I should stay home and sleep.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Each time I think about the flight of&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stairs I have to climb to get to my class&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The teachers and lectures and the homeworks&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;They make me wanna stay home, watch War of the Worlds&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And the thought of the weather so hot&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Makes me not wanna go at all.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A little voice in my head tells me that I should skip&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tomorrows lessons in school cause I ain't gonna keep&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My books and pack my school bag, I just gave it a kick&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A little voice in my head tells me that I should stay home and sleep. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But still it's kinda cool, cause I've got friends in school&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who makes me laugh until I cry&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I still don't know why.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A little voice, a little voice.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A little voice in my head tells me that I should skip&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tomorrows lessons in school cause I ain't gonna keep&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My books and pack my school bag, I just gave it a kick&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A little voice in my head tells me that I should stay home and sleep.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A little voice, A little voice.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So, how is it? Let me know, kay? BIG HUGS *smiles*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;-Nic-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6774536248037194004?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6774536248037194004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/08/random.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6774536248037194004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6774536248037194004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/08/random.html' title='Random'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-425406691351728873</id><published>2010-08-17T21:07:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T21:37:33.246+08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a f..f..</title><content type='html'>..freakishly cold evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  At times like this, all I want to do is just go home, take a hot shower, slip into my warm jammies and curl up in bed. But, no. I had to go for piano lessons. And you have no idea how cold it was in the car. Should have brought my sweater along, but I was like 'oh, nevermind. i wont freeze to death' Truth is, if I stayed in there for the whole night, you guys would probably find my frozen corpse rotting in there. I mean, seriously. I knew it would be cold, but not THAT cold. Ish. Each time I go out to the living room, I'll turn and hide in the study, cause it's warm here. I didn't even care that the rendang was burning hot and that I burnt my tongue. I didn't even realise that my cup was too hot to hold cause my hands were ice cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, after dinner I went up to take a shower. I didn't realise that the water temperature was too high until I saw the steam on the mirror and my pinkish-red skin. I scalded myself. How smart. But then, the moment I turn the shower off, I'll turn it on again cause it's just so cold. Burning hot water seemed like a good idea to me then. Still, I had to get out and get dressed or else I'll get old lady fingers and toes. Finally, nothing like a warm and cozy old jammie. I felt so much more better after that though my nose still felt like ice to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Why must it be so cold at night? Can't it be like that when we're all in school where it's mad hot and everyone's sweating like a cow? Anyway, while keeping the clothes in the cold wind, I suddenly thought: how do those people sleep through the night without their clothes on? I mean, those who sleep alone. For those who sleep with their lovers they won't freeze to death cause there's heat transfer between their bodies and they'll eventually reach thermal equilibrium (see? I paid attention during physics *grins*) and have a warm night. But, there are those who sleep alone, stark naked. I wonder how they do it. Sometimes even my jammies and blanket aren't enough to keep me warm, I have to wear my sweater or something else. Them? There's nothing besides the blanket. Won't they like shiver through the night or sneeze non-stop or something? Really makes me wonder. One day, if I happen to know anyone like that, I'll definitely ask. Or maybe if YOU're one of them and you're reading this right now, mind telling me? I would really appreciate it. Or maybe I'll learn that in physics someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Blisters blisters blisters. My poor lil' toes. =(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-425406691351728873?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/425406691351728873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-ff.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/425406691351728873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/425406691351728873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-ff.html' title='It&apos;s a f..f..'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-892093133965922158</id><published>2010-08-13T21:42:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-13T22:04:36.041+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lately</title><content type='html'>A few things happened these days. Some expected, and some, not so expected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I really thought that yesterday night would be my last lesson. But, last minute changes. I'm gonna continue, at least til the end of intermediate. Took me such a long time to think things over. I really was going to stop. But, it's hard to let go of something that I've been doing since before I could really speak. It's been like, 13-14 years? Yeah. I'm not ready to let go yet. And, I don't want to go back there someday and have some random girl standing next to me who says that she's gonna quit and I'll be like "WHY? DONT QUIT!" and the girl will be like "why?" and I'll be like "You'll regret. Trust me, cause I do". Nope. I don't want that to ever happen. No way. So, yeah. I ain't gonna stop. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, I'm gonna tone down a lil in choir next year. Tone down as in no more competitions, extra practices and pres thingi. Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ I made a deal with my mum. Yes, sacrifices.&lt;br /&gt;~ SPM&lt;br /&gt;~ I'm not sure if I can completely commit myself next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh, and I passed my my add maths with a B. Yays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  More things are gonna happen. It's just a matter of time. Oh wells, we'll just wait and see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-892093133965922158?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/892093133965922158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/08/lately.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/892093133965922158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/892093133965922158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/08/lately.html' title='Lately'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-3613883156032194122</id><published>2010-08-08T20:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T21:44:52.502+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dance, Dance, Dance</title><content type='html'>7th Aug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Had what would most probably be my last concert. It was amazing. A night to remember forever. I forgotten how much I enjoyed being onstage, dancing. I barely remembered the feeling of it all. Feeling nervous backstage before our turn, screaming and cheering like crazies, the audience clapping, everything. I'm really going to miss it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Performed in the Opening, Glitz and Glam, and the Finale. Had like, 3 inches think of make up on my face and a whole head of hairspray. I can't believe that this would be my last performance. After 13-14 years of dancing, this is the end. I can't even let go of 4 years of choir, but I'm actually leaving behind my so many years of dance experience. I'm going to leave the place that I partly grew up in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  By the way, I didn't really get lost on the way there. Godma was a lifesaver. Mum wanted to turn at every turning there is. If Godma wasn't there, I'll probably still be finding my way home now. Maybe I'll be in Seremban buying some food for those people. Oh, I also brought my Physics notebook along cause the map that my friends drew for me was at the back of the book.Heh. And, oh, See Yeng came with me to the concert! *BIG smile* Aunty Elsie had one extra ticket so, yeah. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  And, all those who have danced with my through the years, I love you guys. You're such awesome people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8th August&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Took part in the Subang Parade Patriotic Choir Competition. Was supposed to be in school by 9am but I woke up only at that time. Hah. So much for being punctual. We won the 2nd place. First was DJ, 3rd was Seksyen 16 if I'm not mistaken. So, yeah. Congrats to everyone. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  School tomorrow. I really prefer saturday school now cause it's so fun. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-3613883156032194122?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/3613883156032194122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/08/dance-dance-dance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3613883156032194122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3613883156032194122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/08/dance-dance-dance.html' title='Dance, Dance, Dance'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6852263281280545864</id><published>2010-08-03T23:32:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T23:55:28.633+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Same Ol', Same Ol'</title><content type='html'>So, after piano today, mum was like "so how's your results?" First thing that came into my mind was &lt;em&gt;I SO did not not fail chinese&lt;/em&gt;! Of course, I didn't say that out loud. I haven't even told her yet. Ugh. Stinking chinese. Why does it have to be so freaking hard? I mean, Jane Austen's been dead for a couple of centuries but I still understand her old-fashioned english. I just don't get what chinese people meant in the olden days. It's just so confusing. First, I thought this person was hacking the other, but then, turns out it's the other person who's hacking this person. Confusing. Ugh. Good thing is, I passed my physics, history, maths and maybe add maths. *smiles* I sometimes feel that add maths is easier than maths and vice versa. Hah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, mum popped the question again. "What are you going to do after this?" How was I supposed to answer that? I mean, hellooo? I'm the idiot here who changes my mind every few seconds. Okay, not seconds, I'm just exaggerating as usual. But, so far, I've stuck my mind on music. But then, medic suddenly sounds like a nice path. Not that I'm gonna go that way since I'll probably end up killing one of my patients by accident if I become a doctor. No way. I don't wanna get sued like MJ's doc. Still, being a pharmacist, nurse or a doctor is kinda cool. You get to save lives. Or maybe a marine biologist. I love dolphins. And, the underwater world looks really interesting and mysterious, not to mention pretty. I used to wonder where'd all those colourful stuff come from when I watched The Little Mermaid and I actually hoped that I'll see one someday. (Still hoping) Anyhoo, I just don't like the sharks cause each time I watch Jaws, I'd imagine myself being torn and eaten by that shark. But I read or saw somewhere that there's more dangerous creepy monsters down there waiting for the chance to grab some unlucky fella and gobble them up. Pfft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, once again, I'm facing the same problem. What am I really gonna do after this? I definitely don't wanna waste my time going to NS. I don't wanna be a soldier. Besides, I'm not really the work-out-like-mad kind of person. So, yeah. Forget it. Ezcema should be a good enough excuse to get me out of that shit if I'm really that unfortunate to be chosen. There's so many examples for me to follow in my family. I mean, there's the arts and there's the science people. I have relatives in the medic line who are really close to me, and some really really far. And by far, I mean Norway. Then, there's the arts, as in business, and music. But that one's in Canada. Business person is still here next to me. And then, there's the educators, who are like, the super patient kind of people. I'm not that patient, so asking me to teach a whole class of hooligans is probably just asking me to give then hell cause that's probably what I'd do especially when I'm in a bad mood. Not that I'd be a school teacher either, I don't want to be hated by a whole bunch of students cause when they hate you, they really hate you. Trust me. I'm one of them. So, what AM I gonna do? Any ideas? I'm like, turning 17 next year, which is SPM year, which is also the year where I should start deciding which path I should take, which is ALSO the year where I can legally drive. *big grins* Heh. Gosh, I seriously need to start thinking bout my future. *smacks bead*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh, btw, I hate the weather. It's damn freaking hot. I could probably put an aluminium foil on the ground and start cooking some chickens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6852263281280545864?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6852263281280545864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/08/same-ol-same-ol.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6852263281280545864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6852263281280545864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/08/same-ol-same-ol.html' title='Same Ol&apos;, Same Ol&apos;'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7269207210748508447</id><published>2010-07-31T20:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T23:05:12.296+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blah</title><content type='html'>Abandoned my blog for such a long time. Gosh. Anyway, went to SK USJ 2 to help Nad with the carnival and stuff. Lesson learnt: never ever volunteer to help her, EVER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyhoo, I've got good news. I FREAKING PASSED MY PHYSICS!! Lol. I'm just so happy that I passed. *grins* And, I passed my theory exam too. Yay. Been kinda busy these days. School, tuition, piano, ballet, choir, assignments and crap. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I don't really have much to blog about actually. See how boring my life is? I'm just glad that exam's finally over and I can have some fun. I seriously need to go out. Like, seriously. And, oh. I finally watched Eclipse the other day. It was okay I guess. Not to say really bad, but, yeah. My heart didn't go thumping mad like the way it did in Twilight when I saw Rob Patt. He's just wayyy too pale now. It's like they over bleached him or something. Taylor was kinda hot, though his muscles are still huge to me. Creepy. And, Kristen's hair looks nicer this time. Lol. The new Victoria? Yeah, she's pretty. But she looks so innocent. If I didn't know, I would have thought that Riley was the mastermind behind everything that happened. Dakota's stunning as usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Okay, I'm tired now. Tomorrow's Nad's big day. So, yeah. I need to sleep. Nites!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7269207210748508447?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7269207210748508447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/07/blah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7269207210748508447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7269207210748508447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/07/blah.html' title='Blah'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-5462033761232580246</id><published>2010-07-07T23:35:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T23:54:19.577+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Breathe.</title><content type='html'>Okay, my blog's like, totally dead. But I have a really really good reason. I've just been to busy thinking what I'm so busy about that I couldn't find time to blog at all. So, yeah. Anyway, hols are wayyy over. Sorry lah, no time to blog ma. So, what I did during the hols: eat, sleep, study a lil and rot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  School's already started for quite some time, tried catching up with the work I've abandoned for so long. So far, it's working a lil. At least I'm trying to do my bm and I'm doing more add maths now. So, holidays was okay for me I guess. Hectic and tiring, but, yeah. First week was MCE, then trinity exam and back to Juru for Grandma's 49 days thingi. Oh, and we got a distinction for our trinity exam. *smiles* AND, I got my ballet results back too, and am really REALLY happy with it. *double smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Been kinda torn in between recently cause I have like such a huge dilemma. PDA concert, Faust and competition. I can't go for all of them because..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I can't split myself into 3 and I don't have a twin/triplets.&lt;br /&gt;2) I just don't have enough time. I'm already dragging my AT exam to next year cause I haven't practiced enough. No way can I score good results if I take it this year. So, one year wasted. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;3) I'm tired of fighting with my mum over it. I've been fighting since form 1 and I'm sick and tired of it. You have no idea how much it hurts. Besides, mum's getting old. I can't fight with her forever and not think about her health.&lt;br /&gt;4) It's my last performance. My last rehearsal. My last dance.&lt;br /&gt;5) It's probably a once in a lifetime chance and I'm kinda throwing it away. Geez. I feel like I'm throwing a part of my body away and I'm never gonna get it back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  But, I think some of the problems are solved FOR NOW. I don't know what gonna happen in the future. And, they've left us. I'll miss them dearly. Hopefully they'll come back. And, oh, it feels kinda weird when I don't attend practices. I don't know why, but I just feel like something's missing. Hmm. Anyhoo, concert rehearsals are on. Hopefully everything's gonna be okay cause this concert will be a part of me forever. Well, at least that's what people usually say. The last dance is the one that remains forever. I don't know if I'll remember when I grow old and get Alzheimer's Disease cause I'm already so forgetful now although I'm just 16. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  By the way, I failed my add maths again. AND, physics. Wtf. How am I supposed to take my SPM like that? Die la. My studies really dropped like mad. Ish. Can't even score an 80 for english. I miss primary now. Sobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-5462033761232580246?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/5462033761232580246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/07/breathe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5462033761232580246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5462033761232580246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/07/breathe.html' title='Breathe.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-8962325881348530613</id><published>2010-06-16T13:51:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T13:51:29.472+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Doopedywhoop</title><content type='html'>I'm actually just trying to see if it works. Using my phone to blog now cause I accidentally found out that I have access to internet. So, yeah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-8962325881348530613?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/8962325881348530613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/06/doopedywhoop.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8962325881348530613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8962325881348530613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/06/doopedywhoop.html' title='Doopedywhoop'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-4464197417608378798</id><published>2010-06-08T01:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T01:30:45.650+08:00</updated><title type='text'>.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;  Just a quick one for now cause it's almost 2 and I'm still sitting here. Anyway, I never get bored of this song. He's amazing. Such nimble fingers. It's like they're alive. Gosh.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yMTvJJfuIFk&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yMTvJJfuIFk&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  Think he's awesome? I do. Listen to this kid play.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RnVNZ413yfE&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RnVNZ413yfE&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  And to think that he's only 7. Gosh. I just started playing the piano when I was 7 and he's like, WOW. Anyway, nites. everyone. =)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;-Nic-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-4464197417608378798?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/4464197417608378798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/06/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4464197417608378798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4464197417608378798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/06/blog-post.html' title='.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-3418977937182579478</id><published>2010-06-01T23:56:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T00:01:36.977+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I failed..</title><content type='html'>..add maths. And, I'm probably gonna fail my 3 sciences too. And oh, not forgetting, chinese aural.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I just don't get it. Why can't I speak my own mother tongue which I've been learning eversince I was 4 without stammering? I can speak it fine with my friends, but standing out there, my legs feel like nothing but jelly, literally. They just kept on shaking and wobbling. Even after going back to my seat, they were still trembling. I was THAT scared. And, I couldn't memorise everything cause I kinda found that article last-minute, and I couldn't even memorise 2 sentences of peribahasa, let alone a whole essay. Kept looking at the book, and I didn't even look at the people infront of me. All i remember seeing when I was out there was the book and the table. I actually needed the table to support myself. Everything just didn't go right today. You guys think that you did horrible? Look at what I did. Now, THAT was horrible. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Just came back from KLPAC. Congrats Team B. I'm proud of you guys. Whatever the results are, you all did such a great job. You should be happy and proud of yourselves. But don't forget humble. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-3418977937182579478?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/3418977937182579478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-failed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3418977937182579478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3418977937182579478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-failed.html' title='I failed..'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7387985754628257812</id><published>2010-05-28T00:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T01:19:40.980+08:00</updated><title type='text'>?</title><content type='html'>Good news - mid-year exam's over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Bad news - I'm gonna flunk all of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I finally finished chapter 1 of my story after abandoning it for so long. And, I found my diary which I've also abandoned  for more than a year. Feels good writing again. Story and song writing - amazing. I didn't know that it'll be so addictive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I can't wait for the holidays to come. Not that I'll be going anywhere or doing much. So many lessons to attend to, and I only get to spend 2 nights with my relatives in Juru cause I couldn't go back earlier. Sobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Nothing much to blog about. I'm lazy, heh. Oh, btw, today was the last day of exams. Guess what time did I wake up? I have to be in school by 7.30am. I woke up only at 7.19am. Overslept much. Thank goodness mum woke up just in time. Literally jumped out of bed yelling ''OMG, SHIT!'' right infront of my mum. Gosh. Tomorrow's Wesak Day, which also means holiday! Yays. Okay. I'm really tired now. Nites everyone. And Happy Wesak Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7387985754628257812?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7387985754628257812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post_28.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7387985754628257812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7387985754628257812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post_28.html' title='?'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-8431297453915240069</id><published>2010-05-21T19:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T19:16:22.235+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Now..</title><content type='html'>...where's that gun when I need it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I screwed up. I'm SO dead now. Gah. Seriously, did I just get dumber and stupider? I'm probably gonna get last in class now. Stupid. Couz asked me who did I want to shoot with the gun, and I said there are a few people on my list, but the one right that the top says 'NICOLE CHAN'. Which is true. I really should shoot myself for being such an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Finished two songs this week. DURING EXAM. Which probably shows what a good student I am. Writing songs during exam. Huh. And, I wasn't even done with my paper yet. I just couldn't crack an answer out, so I decided to continue writing my song instead. Then, when I finally thought of some answer to crap in, I'll resume my paper. Damn, I'm gonna fail realy bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  12 down, 10 more to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-8431297453915240069?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/8431297453915240069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8431297453915240069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8431297453915240069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/now.html' title='Now..'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1950270945827588616</id><published>2010-05-15T00:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-15T00:56:11.005+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Exams</title><content type='html'>It's already started. Damn you, exams. 10 days, a total of 22 papers, thanks to chinese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I'm still looking for that shotgun I always talk about. I mean, if I think of it, imagine it and dream of it so much, it should be somewhere here, right? Then where the hell is it??! I need that gun now. Sighs. I screwed up todays papers. Dammit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  2 down, 20 more to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1950270945827588616?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1950270945827588616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/exams.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1950270945827588616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1950270945827588616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/exams.html' title='Exams'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-165866345860001235</id><published>2010-05-11T23:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T23:29:18.584+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Attack of the Laziness</title><content type='html'>It feels weird going back to school after a whole week of unofficial break. I feel so much more lazier these days. I don't even feel like dragging myself out of bed in the morning like I used to. I'll just lie there for 5 minutes, and another 5 minutes, and another 5 minutes...until it's late. Which probably explains why I'm always almost late to school these few weeks. I just got lazier. That's all. Good thing my house is near to the school. I could start wearing my shoes at 7.25am, walk out of the gate at 7.27 or 7.28am, and still make it to school in time. There were a few times when the last bell rang the moment I stepped in. Hah. If only my house was a lil bit more nearer. Then, instead of walking 17 houses to get there, the distance would be much shorter. Then, I'll get to sleep longer or laze around the house for another minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Homeworks. Ugh. The hell to the person who invented homeworks. Do rot in piss. Do you have the slightest idea how much stress and trouble you've cause us people? Do you? DO YOU??! I hate you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Exams are starting soon. And by soon, I mean this Friday. Pfft. 22 papers to sit for, 10 days of heaven and hell. Heaven, cause I don't have to torture my poor back by carrying an elephant up 4 floors everyday. And, there won't be classes. Well, at least, not much. Teachers won't have time to teach. Hell? Cause they're exams. And I have to study my ass off if I don't wanna fail again this term. I really really really don't want to fail. I don't mind getting a mere 40 to pass. Just, PLEASE, don't let me fail again. Dear Lord, please. If you could hear me, I don't wanna fail. Not only will D give me a nice knock on the head (which would probably result in me getting dumber, thus increasing the chances of me failing more subjects in the future, which I think, is not a very smart way to make us pass), I'll probably shoot myself in the head if I fail again. Then, it'll be bye-bye beautiful yet horribly polluted world for me. And, I haven't really started studying yet. Just great. I'll probably have to get that shotgun this weekend. Need to get things ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I can't wait for the holidays to come. I really really really miss my cousins now. I so wanna go back there. I wonder what would things be like if I hadn't joined choir in form 1. Would my schedule be this hectic? Join, a lil bit regret. Don't join, a regret so huge that it'll last me 2 lifetimes. So how? A lil bit regret better right? If I can survive this, I'll definitely survive the outside world and whatever boss I might have in the future, be it bossy, annoying, humble, nice, kind, stupid, ridiculous or anything. Unless I be my own boss. Haha. No way is that ever going to happen. I'll probably bancrupt the whole company in less than 3 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh, uncle said that he'll teach me how to drive when I go back! YAY! I love you so so so much dear uncle!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-165866345860001235?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/165866345860001235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/attack-of-laziness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/165866345860001235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/165866345860001235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/attack-of-laziness.html' title='Attack of the Laziness'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-5520158229539680139</id><published>2010-05-08T17:51:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T19:00:06.888+08:00</updated><title type='text'>-</title><content type='html'>I'm really really really grateful for having such amazing people around me. Thanks everyone for the support and all. I really appreciate it. You guys remind me that I'm not alone in this, and that you'll always be there for me, no matter what happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I was just thinking the other day, when I went out with all my cousins for a movie: Why do I love them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I love my family?&lt;br /&gt;Cause I know that I can always count on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I love my friends?&lt;br /&gt;Cause they're always there for me, no matter how far they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I love these people in the car?&lt;br /&gt;Cause they're such awesome people who never fails to make my laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I love them all?&lt;br /&gt;Cause I just do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Don't worry people. I'm fine, really. Of course, not 100% yet. But, as time passes, I'll learn how to move on. I'm already healing anyway. Still, thanks for the concerns and all. I love you people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-5520158229539680139?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/5520158229539680139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5520158229539680139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5520158229539680139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post.html' title='-'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6506028797441623528</id><published>2010-05-03T16:11:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T18:03:00.676+08:00</updated><title type='text'>We love you, Grandma. I love you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One week ago..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She collapsed. They sent her to the hospital immediately. Everyone was worried, but they said it's okay. She'll be fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A few days later..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She collapsed again. This time, in the hospital. He couldn't even finish one sentence without breaking down. As a son, he was worried sick. As for us, there was nothing we can do. We had so many on our hands. We couldn't just throw everything and leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thursday..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"We're going back this Saturday. It's Labour Day, that's the only day all of us could go."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"We are?"&lt;/em&gt; But, I have choir..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Yes, why? You got things to do?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Uh..not really. I guess." Choir, or Juru?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"If you don't want to go, it's okay. You can stay here and take care of Twinkle and Bell."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Do you want me to go?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Up to you."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Is Daddy going?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Most probably. Do you want to go or not?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I go? I haven't seen our coach in a while, and she just got back from that country. But, if I don't go, I might never..I mean, I might regret. Should I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goes on debating in the head. And, finally,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Okay. I'll go."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Saturday&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a long journey. Stupid sun was burning my skin. Since I couldn't drive, I spent most of the time sleeping at the back of the car. Finally reached around noon. They took us to the hospital to see her. Everyone had a mask to avoid getting H1N1. Stupid virus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lift slowly went up. The only sound in there was the computerised voice. We finally stepped out. When was the last time I stepped into a hospital? 1 year? 2 years? 3? 4? I couldn't remember. It's been a long time. We walked down rows of beds with patients on it. They looked so sad. Why? Cause they're leaving soon? Or they're just really really sad? We finally came to the ICU. The moment I saw her, I didn't know what to do. Even opening the door seemed like an alienated action to me. I don't remember how, but we were already in the room, next to her bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Ma, can you hear me? We're here already. Ah Nee and Ah Chan are here. Can you see them?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She kept shaking her head from side to side. Is that a yes? Or no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Nah, Nadine's here too. And Nicole. Can you see them or not? Faster call Ah Ma."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mumbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Call louder. She cannot hear you."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Ah Ma."&lt;/em&gt; Can she hear us? I can't even hear myself. I can't even breathe. I..&lt;br /&gt;Stares at us and shakes her head again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Don't stand too close. Give her some space."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know what to do. She looked to weak and fragile. As if the slightest movement would break her into half. Was she always so tiny?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent some time with her, and left later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the evening, the older ones went. We, the younger ones, stayed at home to watch tv. They didn't want us going to the hospital too ofter. Not a good place to go to, they said. So we ended up watching 5 movies non-stop. Arahan, Avatar, Imagine That, All's Well Ends Well, Little Soldier. They came back for dinner. We couldn't sleep that night. At least, I couldn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sunday&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of them went out for breakfast. I didn't go cause I slept real late that night. I needed some rest. After they came back, after lunch, after packing, after everything, we went to visit her again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of us stayed in the car. They didn't want us to go in again. Too many germs. So we ended up eating ice creams and joking. Then, the phone rang. She went up first while we stayed. After a while, they came down and took us in. I kept praying that I don't have to go in. Cause if I don't have to go and see her, it means she's still fine. She'll come home. I'll see her at home. If they came for us..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wore our masks and went in. I kept hugging myself in the lift. Please let her be okay. Please. Just let her be okay. I believe in miracles. Please just let it happen this once in my life. Please. Let her be okay. Please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But she was not okay. She couldn't breathe right. They had an oxygen mask on her. She couldn't even open her eyes. The only word she said was "Oh". That's all. No shoutings, no nothing. Just "oh". We left. Stopped by in Kampar for dinner as it was late. Throughout the journey, I kept hoping that the phone wouldn't ring. I was dead tired. So sleepy. But each time one of our phones rang, I'll be wide awake. Alert. There was no way I could sleep. The phones rang a few times. But it wasn't about her. Just friends calling. Just work calling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, finally, it rang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Your grandma passed away."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me a while to understand those simple words. &lt;em&gt;Your grandma passed away. Your grandma passed away. Your grandma passed away. Your grandma..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Passed away? As in, dead? Gone? Forever? No..she's..she's..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...dead.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it. She's dead. Gone. Grandma's gone. It kept repeating itself in my head. I was the last to cry. It sure took me some time to realise that she's really gone. We were cold. The car was cold. I was cold, in and out. Fingers started dialling numbers to let others know. The only word I could say to them was "She's gone". That's all. Nothing else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the journey back was just quiet. Nobody felt like joking anymore. She's gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally reached home. Just before I went in the house, he asked,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"How's your grandmother?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"She's gone."&lt;/em&gt; Whispers. That's all I could manage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I'm sorry. I can't hear you. Wait ah, I'm coming out."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Okay. What did you say?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"She's gone. She passed away just now." &lt;/em&gt;Choked words coming out in pieces. So broken. We were broken. I was broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night was the night I finally cried myself to sleep after so many years. Eversince Bobo died. 11 years? 12 years? It's been a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's really amazing what the human face can do. All you have to do is put on a mask and tell yourself to act like a pro. Or course, that comes with practise. I didn't cry anymore. Maybe I finished all my tears last night. Maybe I just used up buckets of tears since the phone rang. That's why there's no more left. I couldn't cry anymore. Each time I think about her, I'll cry. But that was last night. Before I slept and woke up with tear stains on my face. That night, just the word 'Ah Ma', 'dead', 'sick', 'gone' was able to send me crying for hours. I woke up earlier and practised infront of the mirror, repeating the words over and over again. Why? Trying to control my emotions. I can't go bursting in tears while I'm in school just because of one word. People would think that I'm a lunatic. It wasn't that hard, really. Just some practise, and I had it. Just put on that mask, and walk out to face the world. It's just that simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually managed to smile and laugh in school despite the aching hole inside of me. Thanks to my friends, who would always make me laugh everyday. They're probably the reason I've lasted this long in school. I might have to thank them one day for making me live longer. Laughter is a good medicine. Went through the whole day in school without shedding a tear. I'm really proud of myself. I never thought that I would last that long. I almost broke down when she asked me again this morning if I was okay. But I didn't. I almost cried again when teacher mentioned the word 'dead' during Bio. But I didn't. I almost cried when I had to tell the teachers why I couldn't come the whole week. But I didn't. I didn't know that I could actually hold in that long. I didn't even break the sentences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;" I have to go back for the whole week. My grandma passed away yesterday evening. I won't be able to come."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when people offered their condolences, I just smiled and said 'thank you' or 'it's okay'. When they asked me if I'm really okay, " yeah, I'm fine. Really. Don't have to worry bout me." Boy, I'm good at this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just the beginning. Many people are growing old around me. They'll be gone too one day, and it'll all happen again. Unless I'm gone before them. Maybe a car would just run over me the moment I step out of the gate. Or a piece of the satellite from space might just break off and drop on my head. Who knows. You won't know when death will visit. Until then, I'll just have to put on that same mask each time it happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I hadn't went back that day, I'll probably hate myself til the day I die. She was the best grandmother one could ever have. A grandmother who was so caring and loved everyone in the family so much, equally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a month old, she actually took a bus all the way from Penang to KL, just to see me and attend the celebration they had for me. She was so sick, pale, green, and sick. But she came. She actually came, when so many didn't. They all came, all the way, just for me. They actually cared for me and my family enough to come. During my birthday, she fed me a chicken drumstick. I know, cause I still have that picture. When we were staying in Penang, she wouldn't mind if I messed up her knitting stuff. She'll just scold us gently and laugh at us. She never hit me. She was always there for us. When she had the stroke, she couldn't walk or talk at first. But she got better. Soon, she could walk real fast with the tongkat and talk real loud. Sad thing is, she was bad tempered. According to the doctor, she was the bad tempered kind of stroke patient. Maybe cause she felt useless and angry. Angry that she was sick. Useless because she couldn't walk freely on her own anymore. She used to travel around alot. She was so daring that she could just take a bus to KL without informing any of her kids, asking strangers for directions. Doing anything just to see us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really wanted to celebrate her birthday again this year. I never thought that this day would come so soon. It never crossed my mind. She was so strong during CNY. It was just a while. No more singing and story-telling from her. No more jokes. No more laughter. No more mischievous acts. No more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;87 years. At least she's lived for 87 years. Born in China, spent months on the boat to come to Malaysia with her sisters. She was just 12, and she was struggling so hard for survival. Why? World War II. She was here during the war. Hiding in the forest, eating trees and roots, running from the soldiers, to survive. She finally got married in 1947, and had my aunt the year after that. It's been 87 years. I'd say she lived it well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least she's not suffering anymore. Maybe she's already with grandpa up above. I've never even seen grandpa before. He was gone way before I was born. But, I know he's loving. And I know that they're now happy together, watching over us. Rest in peace, grandma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Appreciate your loved ones and always treasure them, for you'll never know when they'll leave us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We love you, Grandma. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6506028797441623528?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6506028797441623528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/we-love-you-grandma-i-love-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6506028797441623528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6506028797441623528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/05/we-love-you-grandma-i-love-you.html' title='We love you, Grandma. I love you.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-324736700428391046</id><published>2010-04-27T20:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T20:13:37.792+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Note To God</title><content type='html'>Watch this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="640" height="505"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BIt_O0KG3Ko&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BIt_O0KG3Ko&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="505"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I cried. Did you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-324736700428391046?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/324736700428391046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/note-to-god.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/324736700428391046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/324736700428391046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/note-to-god.html' title='Note To God'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1293577578528388588</id><published>2010-04-18T22:27:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T22:35:44.897+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories to keep.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll always love these people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461484574221860882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S8sXSLjFABI/AAAAAAAAAOg/WfId0nJUbHU/s400/23667_384094701942_562756942_4045735_3171272_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461484564620342146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S8sXRnx5c4I/AAAAAAAAAOY/AVuZG75tfbI/s400/23667_384089461942_562756942_4045636_4445590_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461484581832952434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S8sXSn5tCnI/AAAAAAAAAOo/SZ__lI-y6uI/s400/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;from left: geraldine, nicole, hui xin, trisha, yu hua.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;Best Budds. ♥ &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;-Nic-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&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/8529065901665937340-1293577578528388588?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1293577578528388588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/memories-to-keep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1293577578528388588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1293577578528388588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/memories-to-keep.html' title='Memories to keep.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S8sXSLjFABI/AAAAAAAAAOg/WfId0nJUbHU/s72-c/23667_384094701942_562756942_4045735_3171272_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7782251604725281456</id><published>2010-04-11T22:51:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T22:54:56.213+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Toothless!!</title><content type='html'>You guys should totally watch this video. It's hilarious. Pay attention to the lyrics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/d7n8GqewJ2M&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/d7n8GqewJ2M&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  And this. Poor old vampire. Listen to the lyrics.! =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1glNuQiE77E&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1glNuQiE77E&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh, and I watched How To Train Your Dragon today. I love and hate the movie. But Toothless is just adorable. Will blog about it when I have the time. Nites everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7782251604725281456?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7782251604725281456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/toothless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7782251604725281456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7782251604725281456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/toothless.html' title='Toothless!!'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-2448960879588053945</id><published>2010-04-11T00:06:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T00:29:02.193+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Barbie and Pokemon</title><content type='html'>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;I was sneaking around an office that I'm not familiar with. It looked like some new editors' office from one of those old movies. Why was I sneaking around? I had no idea. I just knew that I had to find that something and get out of there quick. I peeped at the dusty window, there were no teachers. As quiet as I can be, I opened the door on my left and went in. On the table, there was a name plat, Pn. Lim O. L.. Pn Lim? Why am I in her office? Is the stuff that I need in here? Whatever. I was crawling on my knees, afraid that someone might spot me. I'd be doomed if I got caught. Suddenly, Z was right next to me, on the knees too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z : What in the world are you doing?&lt;br /&gt;Me : Shhh! They'll hear us.&lt;br /&gt;Z : Who?&lt;br /&gt;Me : The Barbie Dolls. We can't let them know we're here. Why are you here?&lt;br /&gt;Z : We have to go now. It's too dangerous.&lt;br /&gt;Me : No! I have to get the stuff...you haven't answered me yet. Why are you here?&lt;br /&gt;Z : You idiot. Can't you see that I'm trying to save you? We have to go NOW. They're coming.&lt;br /&gt;Me : I can't. Not until I get the stuff.&lt;br /&gt;Z : What stupid stuff could be more important that both of our lives?&lt;br /&gt;Me : I dont know. I'll know it when I see it.&lt;br /&gt;Z : You're not gonna leave with me until you get it, aren't you?&lt;br /&gt;Me : Yes. Now shut up before Barbie comes in.&lt;br /&gt;Z : Fine. I'll wait, but be quick, I don't...&lt;br /&gt;Me : Found it! It's in here..&lt;br /&gt;Z : Just grab it and let's go!&lt;br /&gt;Me : Yeah yeah. There it is..it's a..&lt;br /&gt;Z : What?&lt;br /&gt;Me : It's..it's a..a..it's a..&lt;br /&gt;Z : For God's sake, what the hell is it?&lt;br /&gt;Me : It's..it's a..Pokemon comb..&lt;br /&gt;Z : A WHAT?!&lt;br /&gt;Me : A Pokemon comb. I don't know why..it doesn't make sense at..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GET THEM!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z : Shoot, Barbie's here..&lt;br /&gt;Me : Oh no. They brought their hamsters along..we're dead&lt;br /&gt;Z : There's a mouse hole there! A perfect escape route. Run!&lt;br /&gt;Me : Where? Z? Z! Where are you? Where..&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was probably one of the weirdest dreams I ever had. There's more. But I can't really remember now. This 'scene' was the one I remembered most. Why in the world was I sneaking into the teachers office? And Pn Lim? Wth..And how was Z supposed to save me if that idiot just ran off to whatever mouse hole there was, leaving me behind with the Barbie dolls and their hamsters? And, why was I so afraid of Barbie and her hamsters? Seriously. And all that trouble for a POKEMON COMB?! I don't even watch pokemon! Crazy. That fever must have corrupted my brain wires. There were more in that dream. I'm just too lazy to type whatever I could remember out here. Almost everyone I know were in that dream. I must be going crazy. Barbie dolls and pokemon comb. Pfft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to sleep now. I wonder if I'll continue that dream..Sweet dreams everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-2448960879588053945?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/2448960879588053945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/barbie-and-pokemon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2448960879588053945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2448960879588053945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/barbie-and-pokemon.html' title='Barbie and Pokemon'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6524870581704109220</id><published>2010-04-05T23:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T23:11:03.750+08:00</updated><title type='text'>无聊的时候。。</title><content type='html'>由于我现在实在是太闷了，就用华语来打部络格吧！你们知不知道，我打这一行字，用了多久的时间呢？如果再加入这行，就大约用了10 分钟左右吧。对不起大家，因为我浪费了你们2 分钟的时间在这里读我所打的废话。但我真的是太闷了，睡不着， 才会在这里浪费大家的时间。哇， 快要15分钟了。我算厉害了吧，至少还可以用华语来打字。哈哈。 好了。大家晚安。拜拜。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6524870581704109220?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6524870581704109220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/blog-post_05.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6524870581704109220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6524870581704109220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/blog-post_05.html' title='无聊的时候。。'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6535876465370423077</id><published>2010-04-02T21:41:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T23:01:50.798+08:00</updated><title type='text'>♥</title><content type='html'>I've known them since standard one, so it's been about 10 years now. Two adorable, innocent kids. And 10 years later, we have..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A Model..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455549143018943266" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S7YBCnRUsyI/AAAAAAAAAOI/h8MkdQw73fs/s400/26099_361407278649_650078649_3640682_7247165_n%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;An Angel..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455549153257861538" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S7YBDNaeMaI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/onMGuDOgT6g/s400/20549_294140335868_738715868_3615149_2979602_n%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sweet and innocent as they were, they've grown into such beautiful young ladies now.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Happy belated birthday (31/3) Hel, and to Kim, happy birthday (2/4). Ah, Sweet Sixteens. Notice that they're just one day apart? April Fool's in between. Heh. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I really don't have much left to say bout that both of you. You've been my best friends eversince forever, and I'm really grateful for that. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hel, the one who keeps getting hotter and taller each day, and never fails to make people laugh their asses off. You've been such an amazing friend, always there for all of us. Gah, I miss you laa mangosteen. Nobody to call me nipis sayur anymore, and no more pinching and fighting everyday in school. You're just one more year to your driving license now. You're already tall enough to be a model. Ever thought of going to one of those modelling agencies to try out? Or maybe acting..you'd definitely pass. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Kim, still the angel. Heh. You've always been such a sensible and caring friend. It's a good thing you're louder than you used to be now. I remember that you were once the shy and sweet one, now you're just so out-going, but STILL sweet. You're a really really really wonderful friend, do you know that? And, yeah, I've been thinking of all the way my world is blessed because I have a friend like you too. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I ♥ the both of you so so so so SO MUCH. You guys are like, irreplaceble. Oh, and by the way, we seriously need to snap more pictures the next time we go out together. I couldn't find any decent enough picture in my files to post it up here, I had to grab your facebook pictures. One day, okay? We really have to hang out real soon. I've missed you guys so much. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Enjoy your birthdays. You're such awesome people. ♥ &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;-Nic-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6535876465370423077?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6535876465370423077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6535876465370423077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6535876465370423077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/04/blog-post.html' title='♥'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S7YBCnRUsyI/AAAAAAAAAOI/h8MkdQw73fs/s72-c/26099_361407278649_650078649_3640682_7247165_n%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-2896401978696019166</id><published>2010-03-25T23:14:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T22:38:55.989+08:00</updated><title type='text'>1 2 3</title><content type='html'>1) I failed my add maths. 4 more marks to pass. But, I actually passed my chinese. This calls for a double celebration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  2) Some PI either hates us or love us. Why? Our class report cards are gone. The whole stack. Thank goodness I'm late most of the time. Instead of handing it in before the holidays, I gave it to teacher only after the holidays. Now, only 5 people are safe, including me. The other good students who gave it on time? Adacadabra *poof*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  3) Yesterday was Hui Xin's birthday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  To one of the most lala and crazy person I've ever known..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452946181772833522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S6zBqU_kcvI/AAAAAAAAAOA/SZcto5UWcIQ/s400/Image017.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HAPPY&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;belated&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;SWEET 16!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  You're finally 16. OLD lady. Heh. Anyway, hope you enjoyed your day. I can't believe that the 5 of us only have another 3 weeks together. I'm really gonna miss you guys mad. Sighs. Have a blast girl, you deserve it, you crazy-lala-freakishly-tall-and-slim-straight-A's-person. We love you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;Why do I even love you? I'm such a fool..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;-Nic-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-2896401978696019166?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/2896401978696019166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/1-2-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2896401978696019166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2896401978696019166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/1-2-3.html' title='1 2 3'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S6zBqU_kcvI/AAAAAAAAAOA/SZcto5UWcIQ/s72-c/Image017.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-4376860147588692454</id><published>2010-03-21T19:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T19:37:43.504+08:00</updated><title type='text'>-</title><content type='html'>I'm SO not ready for school yet. I didn't even get to sleep in late the whole week! Monday theory exam. Tuesday til Thursday choir. Friday piano. Saturday had to visit grandparents. Sunday, well, didn't really got to sleep. Was freezing the whole night cause my blankie's not dry yet. == One whole week GONE. Tomorrow it'll be back to the whole wake-up-bath-brush-teeth-breakfast-get-ready-for-school routine again. NOOOOOOOOO. I hate getting up early for school. HATE IT. Ugh. Why can't school start at 8 or 9 in the morning? That extra 30 minutes of sleep really changes ALOT laa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-4376860147588692454?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/4376860147588692454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4376860147588692454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4376860147588692454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post.html' title='-'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-8303912645233269449</id><published>2010-03-20T22:00:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T22:32:12.190+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Twin Tower</title><content type='html'>To the girl whose family has already met my family before we were even born..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl I've known since kindergarten..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who was in my class during kindergarten..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who attended the same primary school as I did (not same class tho)..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who used to come to my house every friday after school to play..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who'd wait in my living room while I take my time bathing upstairs after school..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who actually joined my so-called T.S.S.S.C when we were just kids..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who came to Seafield too..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who joined choir too..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who is one of the strongest altos I know..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who studied in the class next to mine..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who had the same chinese class with me..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who is now my classmate..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who is a very good leader..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who doesn't beat around the bush..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who has freakishly huge eyes (they're WAYYY BIGGER than mine)..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who has super long eyelashes..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who is one of the twin towers..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who is thinner than me (like a stick, YOU'RE NOT FAT!)&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who was taller than me..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who is taller than me..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who will ALWAYS be taller than me..==&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who still looks the same as she does in her kindergarten picture..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who has been my friend for 12 years and still counting..&lt;br /&gt;  To the girl who I'll always love (as a friend)..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;HAPPY SWEET 16&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;LOH SHAO JUN&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I'm really sorry, but I don't really have a picture of you alone. One day, I'll make sure I have a picture of you. I will. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, you're finally 16 now. Have a blast. This is your day. Happy birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-8303912645233269449?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/8303912645233269449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/twin-tower.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8303912645233269449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8303912645233269449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/twin-tower.html' title='Twin Tower'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6963795626230944329</id><published>2010-03-17T15:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T15:43:44.985+08:00</updated><title type='text'>bla</title><content type='html'>Not really in a mood to blog now, but, I've got a lil' something to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Seriously, how can some like him..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 270px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449503566247442194" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S6CGnuxnNxI/AAAAAAAAAN4/7hEOpEbIHqA/s400/kevin-mchale.jpg" /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and him..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 277px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449503539604611634" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S6CGmLhd4jI/AAAAAAAAANg/wU7V9mev58Q/s400/ex_chris_colfer_glee.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;both, one nerd and one gay, look like this..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 294px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449503549494651266" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S6CGmwXb6YI/AAAAAAAAANw/N2gX_RLNtKc/s400/Kevin%2BMcHale%2Bkevin_mchale2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;this..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449503547014966306" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S6CGmnIO7CI/AAAAAAAAANo/In4O0fMQKxw/s400/hq011.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;and this..??!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449503525536943314" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S6CGlXHeTNI/AAAAAAAAANY/Dtf8MFyAkdA/s400/ChrisColferAnnikaCullenwallpaper004.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  Really. He looked so nerdy and he looked so gay! In fact, Chris looked so gay, I was convinced that he was really gay. But, how can they both look so bloody hot?? Gosh. I was so wrong. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;-Nic-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6963795626230944329?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6963795626230944329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/bla.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6963795626230944329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6963795626230944329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/bla.html' title='bla'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S6CGnuxnNxI/AAAAAAAAAN4/7hEOpEbIHqA/s72-c/kevin-mchale.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-5261293217994779551</id><published>2010-03-13T21:51:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T22:01:45.206+08:00</updated><title type='text'>3</title><content type='html'>Theory exam's on monday and I'm not ready yet. Shit. I've already flunked 2 papers, might as well try for a perfect 3, right? If I get lucky, I fail my physics too. Hah. Shit happens everytime. I find that phrase funny. I don't know why, it just makes me laugh when someone says it, or when I say it to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;  So if I was the one who slammed my freaking head on the ground, you'd just sit there and stare at me, and not do anything too? Such a goddamn caring person you are, I see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-5261293217994779551?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/5261293217994779551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5261293217994779551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5261293217994779551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/3.html' title='3'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-4097470839009871169</id><published>2010-03-11T17:03:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T19:04:48.314+08:00</updated><title type='text'>flunked.</title><content type='html'>I'm so lazy these days, I don't even blog anymore. Exams papers are coming back to haunt me, I need at least another 20 marks to pass my chinese and add maths. Great. That just proves how smart I've become. If I'm lucky, I'll flunk half my subjects by mid term, and every subject by the end of the year. Mum would probably freak and strangle me. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's as if school just started yesterday, but it's already march. How time flies. SPM results were out today, saw so many ex-form 5's back in school. I remember coming to form 1, and they were just form 3. Now they're all going off to college. In a couple more years, it'll be our turn. Then, we'll be working. Then, some might get married, and we'll start receiving wedding invitations. Soon, we'll see little kids running around when we visit our friends. Years later, we'll see their kids go to primary, secondary, and off to college. Then, we'll get the news that their kids got this job, that job. How good the pay is. How happy they are with their jobs. Whose kids have boyfriends/girlfriends already. Then there'll be the wedding invitation again, only this time it'll be from their kids. Then we'll sit down and have some tea while reminiscing the good old times. Hah. Crap. I sound so old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Projects. Homework. EXAM. GOSH. It's like I never get a break from anything. School exams may be over, but I've still got my theory exam, which is less than a week away. Monday. DIE. Then, concert practice might be starting real soon. The concert's in June fyi. April, ballet exam. My final exam. The final curtain call. May, mid year exams. June, MCE and concert. July, term exam. August and September, so far nothing yet. I don't know when's my practical exam. October, finals. No break at all, besides august and september, FOR NOW. Sighs. I'm so tired these day, I fall asleep the moment I hit the bed or sofa. And, I wake up later and later each day. One day I might just finally get up so late that I'm late for school. Then I'll get denda-ed or whatever they do to latecomers. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, to my super awesome cousin who stayed up late just to send me all those pictures that I needed for my moral kerja amal,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;THANK YOU.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're probably the best cousin anyone could ask for. Thank you sooooooo much for going through all the trouble just to help me get my stupid-last-minute-again work done. I love you. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;if i gave you some coffee and doughnuts, would you turn your backs on them and do that kind of shit for me too? whatever happened to the fucking justice? why the hell are you here anyway? you're not even doing your job. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-4097470839009871169?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/4097470839009871169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/flunked.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4097470839009871169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4097470839009871169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/flunked.html' title='flunked.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6237033685749061969</id><published>2010-03-04T17:13:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T17:52:52.271+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Besides the fact that I..</title><content type='html'>screwed add maths, killed my english summary, shot my bm, stabbed my moral, strangled my physics and dropped a nuclear bomb on my chinese, my exams went pretty well, I guess. At least I managed to pass my bio and chem. Ahh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Had exams since monday. And, on the very first day of exam, which is also my very first form 4 exam, with Bio in it, I woke up late. AGAIN. *slaps head* Damn smart right? Thank God my house is really near to my school. I seriously have no idea what I'd do if I really go to school late on an exam day. ==&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Choir tomorrow. It's been a while since I last practiced. Hah. I'm gonna be so dead. Anyway, theory exam's coming, like, real soon. 15th of march, and I haven't finished memorising all my terms yet. Shit. I guess I should be prepared to fail my theory exam again. Last time I failed was in grade 3. Hah. Oh, did I mention that I've found my grade 7 practical cert? Haha. Turns out I didn't have it at all. It was still at the jabatan with those people cause they were too lazy to mail it to me immediately. Instead, they were waiting for ME to get it. And, when I didn't go after 1 year, they finally mailed it to me. I didn't lose it after all! Hah. Teacher was just as surprised as I was when she got the cert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Right now, I'm just really glad that I didn't fail ALL my papers. Screw add maths. I hate you. I have the feeling that I'm gonna fail my chinese as well. Wait, not a feeling. I KNOW that I'm gonna fail. Pfft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Can't wait to go out this Sunday. I'm so lucky so have such awesome cousins. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6237033685749061969?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6237033685749061969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/besides-fact-that-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6237033685749061969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6237033685749061969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/03/besides-fact-that-i.html' title='Besides the fact that I..'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-2874343534769208662</id><published>2010-02-20T00:21:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T01:40:55.321+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cards.</title><content type='html'>Came home yesterday night and rushed straight to my ballet lessons. Damn semangat right? More like damn tiring. Collapsed onto my dear bed right after I came home and slept for half an hour. Then, started facebook and stuff. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Each time I go back to penang or anywhere near my cousins, I don't want to come home. I won't cry and show tantrum like little kids tho, it's just that I berat hati to leave laa. I seldom see them, maybe once or twice a year, of course I'll miss them. Sighs. Anyway, I really need to go on that diet after the festive season's over. I look like a hippo now. All those CNY goodies, gosh. Fat fat FAT. I wonder if I'll still fit into my school uniform. Watch out people. the hippo's coming back real soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh oh oh! I finally, yes, FINALLY learned how to play 'cho dai di'! Haha. Yeah. Seriously. I FINALLY know how. Hah. I'm so happy. *smiles* After so many years, I finally understand the game. Yeah, I know. I'm dumb. Friends have been trying to teach me since standard 3, I think. Took me this long to get it. Hah. Many thanks to my awesome cousins who taught me. It sure takes a whole lot of patience to teach a dumbo like me. Thank you guys so much. Seriously. And, to my friends who tried so hard to teach me, it's not that you guys are not patient and stuff, it's just that, uhm, I was too dumb to understand. Years ago I was still young ma, my brain wasn't as good as it is now. Not that I'm smart. I'm still dumb, but not &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; dumb anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh, and next time I go back, I'll make sure that I know at least one magic trick. It seems like everyone knows how to do tricks, especially with cards. Hmph. One day, just wait and see. I can do it. While I was in uncle's house, I wondered, what will all these celebrations be like after 30 years? Just this year, there were at least 8 or 9 laptops in the house. Technology. Everyone can't survive without the internet, especially facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How to play mahjong?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-Go google.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I wonder how are they celebrating there in bla bla bla?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-On msn /skype! Got webcam ma, can chat and see them wan.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How was their holiday in bla bla bla ah?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-Go facebook. Got loads of pictures in there.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eh, what is this ah? For what wan?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-Go wikipedia lor. There everything also got.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  See what I mean? Oh, I'll have to learn how to play mahjong too. Every house I go to, people play mahjong. I'll get dad to teach me one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Found some pictures I took earlier this year in the computer. I'm not trying to be proud and all, but I gotta admit, I did a pretty good job with that grandma cardigan.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Before&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439993153930508978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S36884CVurI/AAAAAAAAANQ/4GCiqIh8xpA/s400/Image079.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;After&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439993123729233618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S3687Hhy1tI/AAAAAAAAANA/ed74rXqK-hE/s400/Image072.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439993136302618498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S36872Xhd4I/AAAAAAAAANI/c07Gefohpuk/s400/Image071.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S3686tEsEdI/AAAAAAAAAM4/82F-47NKepM/s1600-h/Image070.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439993116627833298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S3686tEsEdI/AAAAAAAAAM4/82F-47NKepM/s400/Image070.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  Not bad eh? Haha. I'm a genius. It looks so much more better than it was before, right? Right? Right. *smiles* &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  By the way, went to subang parade just now. Was having dinner when the lion dance performance started. I haven't seen any lion dances this CNY. Now, everything seems more, uhm, complete? Something like that. Since small, I'll always watched at least one or two lion dances furing CNY, though I used to hide when the lions come into the house. Can't blame me laa, I was small. Those lions somehow looked scary to me. So, it's like, it doesn't seem complete without the dance. CNY didn't seem complete this year, til I saw the performance just now. Anyhoo, went shopping a lil. Saw this really nice dress, but didn't get to buy it. Sobs. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  Ah, school's starting real soon. 2 more days before the torture starts again. I still haven't finished my work yet. Pfft. So much for bringing my work back during CNY. I only managed to finish 1 1/2 of my moral essay. It's almost 2am. I'm a living zombie. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  Can't wait to go back and meet my cousins again. Maybe during grandma's birthday, or next year. Sighs. I love my family. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Nic-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-2874343534769208662?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/2874343534769208662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/cards.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2874343534769208662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2874343534769208662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/cards.html' title='Cards.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S36884CVurI/AAAAAAAAANQ/4GCiqIh8xpA/s72-c/Image079.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-3210671181219779209</id><published>2010-02-18T02:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T02:56:16.446+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just remembered just now that I need photos for my moral kerja amal. *slaps head* Now, I'm just hoping that cousin bro took pictures during our dinner and lunch and visitings, cause if he didn't, I'm probably dead meat. Stupid kerja amal. And then there's the tugasan harian and more craps. Ugh. I hate school works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  5 more minutes to 3am. I'm almost a zombie now. Sighs. I look so dead these days. Off to sleep. Nites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-3210671181219779209?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/3210671181219779209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-just-remembered-just-now-that-i-need.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3210671181219779209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3210671181219779209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-just-remembered-just-now-that-i-need.html' title=''/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-5566678504969937959</id><published>2010-02-15T22:30:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T22:43:26.842+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebration</title><content type='html'>I know it's a lil late to wish now, but still,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Currently staying in Juru, not Penang. Will be going there tomorrow morn, I think. It's realy great having all my cousins around. Seriously. I just love it. And, my mum's drunk. Haha. That's something interesting. She seldom gets drunk. Probably too excited and hyper I guess. I wonder if I'll ever get dunk like that. Don't worry, I don't plan on getting drunk anytime soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;   A really short update, cause I'm not really in the mood to blog now. I just spent 2 hours this morning finishing my essay for moral chapter 5. 3 more chapters to go, and I've still got my moral assignments, more school homework, tuition work AND piano work. 2 sets of papers, and italian, german, french terms, not forgetting all those orchestra stuff. Sighs. There's also so many stuff to study for the first term exam. What a holiday huh? Seems like this whole week of 'holiday' is just for us to spend more time on studying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;   I've put on weight AGAIN. Sighs. Sad case. I seriously need to go on a diet after this. Seriously. Watching This Is It again. MJ's simply awesome. It's really sad that he's gone forever now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;-Nic-&lt;/span&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/8529065901665937340-5566678504969937959?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/5566678504969937959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/celebration.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5566678504969937959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5566678504969937959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/celebration.html' title='Celebration'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1118829593774692167</id><published>2010-02-11T23:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T23:45:26.683+08:00</updated><title type='text'>=D</title><content type='html'>I think the stye's gone. Thank goodness. One less thing to suffer during CNY. School's still on tomorrow. Sighs. I was really really really hoping that they would give us an extra holiday to cut down the traffic, but, oh well. Anyway, today's probably the day I laughed most since I came to form 4. Seriously. I laughed so hard that I had stomach cramps. But it was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Ah, school tomorrow. I haven't ironed my uniform yet. Crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1118829593774692167?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1118829593774692167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/d.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1118829593774692167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1118829593774692167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/d.html' title='=D'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-9190911498322282397</id><published>2010-02-08T13:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T14:21:42.895+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stye.</title><content type='html'>Of all the time, why must the stupid infection be now?? WHY?! Stupid stye. Checked the internet to get the full meaning of 'stye' since I had no idea what it was. All I know is that there's a pimple growing on/under my eyelid. And people say that using a rice that hasn't been cooked to poke the affected area will help to reduce/cure the infection. I wasn't gonna do that cause I do not want to risk poking myself right in the eyeball. I've done that and saw the silver glitters around me for so many times already. I do not want it to happen again, especially not with a freakishly sharp, uncooked rice. Anyway, wikipedia says that a stye is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;em&gt; An external stye (pronounced &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Wikipedia:IPA for English" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:IPA_for_English"&gt;&lt;em&gt;/ˈstaɪ/&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;) or hordeolum (/hɔrˈdiːələm/) is an infection of the &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Sebaceous gland" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sebaceous_gland"&gt;&lt;em&gt;sebaceous&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Gland of Zeis" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gland_of_Zeis"&gt;&lt;em&gt;glands of Zeis&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; at the base of the &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Eyelash" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eyelash"&gt;&lt;em&gt;eyelashes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;, or an infection of the &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Apocrine" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apocrine"&gt;&lt;em&gt;apocrine&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; sweat &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a class="mw-redirect" title="Glands of Moll" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glands_of_Moll"&gt;&lt;em&gt;glands of Moll&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;. External styes form on the outside of the lids and can be seen as small red bumps. Internal styes are infections of the meibomian sebaceous glands lining the inside of the eyelids. They also cause a red bump underneath the lid with only generalized redness and swelling visible on the outside. Styes are similar to &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Chalazion" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chalazion"&gt;&lt;em&gt;chalazia&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;, but tend to be of smaller size and are more painful&lt;/em&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(more painful? wth..)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;em&gt;and usually produce no lasting damage. Styes are characterized by an acute onset and usually short in duration (7-10 days without treatment) compared to chalazia that are chronic and usually do not resolve without intervention.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Styes are commonly caused by a &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Staphylococcus aureus" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Staphylococcus_aureus"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Staphylococcus aureus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a class="mw-redirect" title="Bacterial infection" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Bacterial_infection"&gt;&lt;em&gt;bacterial infection&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;, or by the blocking of an &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Oil gland" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Oil_gland"&gt;&lt;em&gt;oil gland&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; at the base of the &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Eyelash" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Eyelash"&gt;&lt;em&gt;eyelash&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a class="image" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/File:Feb_19_Onwards_001.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Although they are particularly common in &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Infant" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Infant"&gt;&lt;em&gt;infants&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;, styes are experienced by people of all ages.&lt;/em&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(hell yeah..==)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;em&gt;Styes can be triggered by &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Stress" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Stress"&gt;&lt;em&gt;stress&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a class="mw-redirect" title="Poor nutrition" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Poor_nutrition"&gt;&lt;em&gt;poor nutrition&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Sleep deprivation" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Sleep_deprivation"&gt;&lt;em&gt;sleep deprivation&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;, or rubbing of the eyes.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(okay, maybe I should have slept earlier and rubbed my eyes less. Sobs.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;  &lt;em&gt;Using the same &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Razor" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Razor"&gt;&lt;em&gt;razor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; to shave hair near both the eyes and a &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a class="mw-redirect" title="Mustache" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Mustache"&gt;&lt;em&gt;mustache&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(i do not have a moustache and i do not shave any hair near my eyes cause i'll probably end up shaving my eyes out.)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;em&gt;can also spread staphylococcus bacteria, potentially leading to styes or other &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a class="mw-redirect" title="Eye infection" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Eye_infection"&gt;&lt;em&gt;eye infections&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;. Sharing of washcloths or face towels should be curtailed to avoid spreading the infection between individuals. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;(ugh, NADINE! STOP USING MY TOWEL!)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt; Styes will last from up to 4 days to 2 weeks&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(2 weeks??!!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;  &lt;em&gt;without treatment, and only up to 1 week&lt;/em&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(please let it be less than that, i dont wanna suffer during CNY. sobs.)&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;if treated properly. Medical professionals will sometimes lance a particularly persistent or irritating stye with a needle in order to accelerate its draining.&lt;/em&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(I always poke my eyes, but maybe, mum won't..)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;em&gt;A stye's expansion can also be fought with &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Erythromycin" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Erythromycin"&gt;&lt;em&gt;erythromycin&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; ophthalmic ointment. Medical professionals may also treat stye with other antibiotics such as &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Chloramphenicol" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Chloramphenicol"&gt;&lt;em&gt;chloramphenicol&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; or &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Amoxicillin" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Amoxicillin"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Amoxicillin&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;. Chloramphenicol is used successfully in many parts of the world but contains a box warning in the United States due to concerns about &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Aplastic anemia" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Aplastic_anemia"&gt;&lt;em&gt;aplastic anemia&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;, which on rare occasions can be fatal. Erythromycin ointment enjoys widespread usage and may add to comfort and aid in preventing secondary infections. However, it is poorly absorbed when used topically and usually requires oral dosing to reach the infection with therapeutic levels onside of a stye. Azasite, a topical eye drop form of Azithromycin, does appear to penetrate eyelid tissues fairly well and may be a topical treatment for styes used in the future.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  If a stye bursts, care must be taken to cleanse the wound to prevent reinfection.&lt;/em&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(there'll be a reinfection? wth..)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;  So, I have to suffer not only a sore throat, flu, horrible ezcema and probably my period (it's a week late fyi) but also this stupid stye during CNY. What a way to celebrate. Ugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Skipped school today cause I my left eye wouldn't open NO THANKS to the stupid stye. Gah. And I thought that I could have full attendance this year, cause I ponteng-ed ALOT during form 3. People want to be a good student and attend school everyday, but ended up like this. Hmph. Oh yea, btw, I actually went to school for 7 days in a row last week. Monday to Friday, school. Saturday, school replacement class. Sunday, PIBG performance. Heh. I guess today'll just have to be my Saturday/Sunday/Monday rest day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Tons of homework to do. School and tuition. UGH. Curse the person who invented homeworks. I hate you. ==&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-9190911498322282397?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/9190911498322282397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/stye.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/9190911498322282397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/9190911498322282397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/stye.html' title='Stye.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6276132417087449654</id><published>2010-02-01T19:54:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T21:13:39.067+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Elfluented.</title><content type='html'>Word of the day: ELFLUENTED&lt;br /&gt;Meaning: To affect. Refer to Influenced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Yeah. Another new word. I sure learn lots of crap from my Physics teacher. SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO SPELL 'INFLUENCED' FOR GOODNESS SAKE!! *slaps head* Seriously. I really felt like laughing out really loud, especially when Mabel went out to correct her, and she asked Mabel HOW to spell it instead. I know, I sound mean, laughing at others mistake. But she was a freaking major in Physics! And, what year is it now? How can she NOT know how to spell something as easy as that? Why do I hate Physics? Partly because of her, and, I hate calculations. Seriously. I'd rather burn my brains out memorizing all those Biology crap than to do Physics for the rest of my life. I know I sound a lil unreasonable. Sure, we use physics almost everyday in our lives. Without physics or maths or all those calculation craps, we wouldn't have what we're having today. Still, I HATE CALCULATIONS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, Najib and his 1Malaysia concept. What do I think bout it? I think it's crap. Want to know why? Cause there's like, racial problems everyday happening everywhere. Just today, during add maths,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Why are you sitting with him? Change place! All Indians sitting together always talk alot!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;  WTF. I know it's not really my buisness. I'm not one of those people he was scolding. But still, did you really had to mention Indians? Helloo?? Indians are not the only ones with mouths la kay? FYI, I was talking too. In fact, I ALWAYS talk during your class. Why didn't you say 'Chinese sitting together always talk alot'? Does changing places to sit with a different kind of race really help? How would it help? Different races don't talk to each other, that's why there won't be any noises? What kind of rubbish is that? How could you say that to the class? You're a TEACHER. Damn racist la you. I know, many people are racist. Still. You shouldn't have said that. Better change your bad attitude mister, before you get into huge trouble.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;  Anyhoo, I finally flipped open my chinese dictionary that I've owned since std 3. Yeah, last time I used it was in std 6. Never touched it since then. But, since I had to find out about so many words, yeah. Finally. My chinese is getting worse and worse. There's like, 2 out of 10 words that I can understand, while the rest are just, words. I have at least 70% of chinese homework left to do, which I won't. I'll just copy from my friends. Heh. I TRIED to do la kay. Spent the past one hour squinting at tiny words in the dictionary. Seriously. I did make an effort to finish it, but I just don't know how to do it. Not my fault. Oh, I finally got my moral homework burden off my back. Yay.! 4 essays full of craps. Hope teacher won't scold me tomorrow during class. I spent the whole afternoon and night just to finish those essays kay. Okay, I know. I wouldn't had to rush like a mad woman if I'd finished it the moment teacher gave us the assignments. But then, I really had no idea on what to write. So, I guess I'm the last-minute-only-got-idea kind of person. Too bad. Sighs. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;  CNY is less than 2 weeks away. Wee~! I can't wait. =)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;  I haven't finished my add maths tuition homework yet. Crap. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;-Nic-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6276132417087449654?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6276132417087449654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/elfluented.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6276132417087449654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6276132417087449654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/02/elfluented.html' title='Elfluented.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-5621608093316279773</id><published>2010-01-30T20:40:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T19:09:15.836+08:00</updated><title type='text'>.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; I'm really starting to have second thoughts in probably every single decision I've made now. Like, seriously. What in the world was I thinking when I picked up the pen and wrote on that paper and signed my name and handed it in? WHAT WAS I THINKING?! I don't have any of those qualities in me. Why did I do it? Thinking now, did I make the right decision? Looking at them, I feel so useless. Why can't I be more like them? I can talk and communicate with my friends, but why is it so hard for me to talk to others? They ARE my friends too, but, there's just that feeling in me that makes me feel so nervous and shaky. I thought that I could do it. I really thought that I could. I mean, I've tried it before. Those little kids were so easy and I had no stress at all with them though they sometimes don't understand what I say. But, they're just kids. It's okay if they don't understand. Piano is harder, right? There's the fingerings and all to learn. Then why do I have little problem with them but such a huge problem with what I'm supposed to do now? I'm not really doing anything and I feel stressed. Yes. STRESSED. Why? I don't know. I'm not doing anything. I'm just the stupid one who can't seem to do anything right. Then WHY AM I STRESSING OUT??? I have no freaking reasons to feel stressed. Each time I'm told to do something, I'll end up not doing it because they are so much more better at it that I am. Really. I look up to them alot. I really admire their courage and all. Ever since form 1, they've been like role models to me. It's like they've been born to do all those stuff. They've accomplished so many things. I'm already form 4, and what have I accomplished through these years? Nothing. Nothing at all. I feel so useless. Really. If I can't even trust myself, how can I expect others to trust me? Where the hell did all my confidence go? I seriously don't feel confident at all talking to everyone. It's like, ugh. I've never been so insecure and worried about my words after such a long time. Why must it happen now? Of all the time to lose my confidence and boldness, WHY NOW? Now, when I need it the most? I've already tried my best to forget about what happened in the past, and I did it. I made it. But, ever since then, I've been really careful with almost every single word that comes out of my mouth, because I don't want history to repeat again. I've already hurt one person so deeply because of my big mouth, and I don't want to do it again. I've been really careful. But, being careful doesn't mean I can't be the old happy me. Doesn't mean I can't be talkative and crazy and fun. I used to be, and I still am. But, why do I feel like it's slowly sinking away? I keep remembering the same stupid incident. UGH. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;  It's like I'm starting to isolate myself again. WHY? Where the hell did the person in me go? God. Where are those stars when I need them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;-Nic-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-5621608093316279773?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/5621608093316279773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5621608093316279773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5621608093316279773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html' title='.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7945615255087778870</id><published>2010-01-26T23:13:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T20:11:01.570+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weirdo</title><content type='html'>I seriously wouldn't mind staying back for chinese lessons if we're gonna study in the MPB everytime. Heh. But then, there's always the good and bad side. Good thing is, the room is much more comfortable than our usual stuffy classrooms. And, there're air-cons! =) Bad thing is, I tend to fall asleep easily when I get too comfortable. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I felt really, really restless today. I have no idea why. Was jumping and skipping around. Yeah, weirdo, yes. I tend to get all hyped up out of the blue and start jumping like some maniac for no reason. So, don't mind me when I do that infront of you. You all should be used to it by now, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo..MABELLLL! I wanna meet them tooooooooooo!!!!! =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7945615255087778870?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7945615255087778870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/weirdo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7945615255087778870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7945615255087778870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/weirdo.html' title='Weirdo'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-5865783373034783777</id><published>2010-01-25T22:48:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T23:04:49.382+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick.</title><content type='html'>My sore-throat is getting worse. Argh. CNY is like, in about 2 weeks? Sobs. I don't want to be sick during CNY. Anyway, thanks again everyone for everything. You all really make me feel appreciated. And, in a way, you let me know that there are people out there who are concious about my existence in this world. I'm not completely invisible. Thank you. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Just came back from add maths tuition, and I had no idea what did I do there. Couldn't really concentrate, with the headache and all. Sighs. I'm gonna fail my exams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, these guys are really amazing la.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xIoSTbPt_PI&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xIoSTbPt_PI&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Note: the guys in the video are the same person. Amzing right? Sam's voice is like, WOW. And, that Kurt is a genius. Wish I could meet them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/k-vorcTAHGQ&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/k-vorcTAHGQ&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  He sings, acts and plays the piano. Not to mention cute.! *melts*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-5865783373034783777?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/5865783373034783777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/sick.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5865783373034783777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5865783373034783777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/sick.html' title='Sick.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-2962040984597217722</id><published>2010-01-24T21:19:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T22:40:23.886+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Awesome.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S1xJarxkCsI/AAAAAAAAAMw/0gknnniIkfc/s1600-h/17445_103174059711485_100000566752814_89221_4561014_n%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430295973478009538" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S1xJarxkCsI/AAAAAAAAAMw/0gknnniIkfc/s400/17445_103174059711485_100000566752814_89221_4561014_n%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I really hope that my wish comes true&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Had an early celebration with the people I love yesterday. It's really great seeing them again after so long. More than a year, I think. Thank you, for giving me another memorable night to keep forever. You guys are awesome. One day, I shall find some pictures of us when we were small, and compare to our pictures now. It'll be a great laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, had dinner at Pizza Hut. We had the whole upstairs to ourselves. Heh. Chatted and ate til it was around 9 something. Sent Yoke Lin home after that, cause she wasn't feeling so well. Hope you're better now. =) Then, went home with Kim and Hel. Kim left around 11. Hel waited til 1 something. And, guess what? Around 12, if I'm not mistaken, I started having a terrible headache. And, I was drop-dead tired cause there was merentas desa that morning. Ugh. I'm such a terrible person. Instead of entertaining Hel, I fell asleep for a few minutes. At least I think I did. I don't remember much, so I must've been sleeping like a pig. Sorry Hel. =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Then, chatted with mum til 4am. Yeah, 4am. Unbelievable. Mum forgotten the time I guess. When she looked at the clock, she was like 'go sleep now! so late already. sure cannot wake up in the morning.' Hah. It's already morning laa mum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Nothing much to say. Words can't really describe how I felt that night. So much running through my brains, yet I can't find enough words to type. Still, it was awesome. I'm really really grateful for having such amazing friends. Thanks you all, for everything. Hopefully, 10 years from now, we'll still be the same crazy bunch. I love you. Glo..why you didn't come laa..We seriously missed you so much. =(&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  Homework's piling up. I haven't finished my theory and school work AND add maths tuition work yet. Gosh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic- &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-2962040984597217722?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/2962040984597217722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/awesome.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2962040984597217722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2962040984597217722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/awesome.html' title='Awesome.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/S1xJarxkCsI/AAAAAAAAAMw/0gknnniIkfc/s72-c/17445_103174059711485_100000566752814_89221_4561014_n%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7678874646716475513</id><published>2010-01-21T15:37:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T16:03:26.853+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dead Tired</title><content type='html'>It's already the 3rd week of school. Wow. Didn't I just celebrate Christmas yesterday? Sighs. Tomorrow's Friday, which marks the end of the school week. I tend to get excited now whenever I remember that the next day is a Friday. Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) After Friday, it's Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Choir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I get to go out longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Three good reasons. Hah. Anyway, merentas desa this Saturday. I've finally decided that I want to run. Run, as in, really run. Not run then walk all the way back. I know I'm not a good runner, but still, I think that I'll make it back JOGGING laa. After the past few months of practicing my Demi and Waltz at home AND in the studio, my stamina should have at least built up by 2%, right? Crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Been dead tired these days. I was 1/3 awake during Chem tuition yesterday. Can't help it. 4-5.30 Physics, then followed by Chem til 7pm. 3 freaking hours la weih. Even my teacher kinda got annoyed because I wasn't really paying attention to her, especially during Chem. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Homeworks piling up. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7678874646716475513?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7678874646716475513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/dead-tired.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7678874646716475513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7678874646716475513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/dead-tired.html' title='Dead Tired'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-633001505417257994</id><published>2010-01-16T14:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T16:12:36.945+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hell.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;  "Akan menghadap ke kanan, ke kanan pusing!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;  "Akan menghadap ke kiri, ke belakang pusing!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;  "Baris! Hentak kaki, hentak!!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;  "Do you think your marching was good?! DO YOU THINK YOUR MARCHING WAS GOOD?!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;  "Another 40 hentakans!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;  "Add another 20 hentakans!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;-im so sick of it now-&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  And it goes on and on and on. Why did I insist on joining St John back then in form 1? I don't really remember. I remember Meera asking me to join scouts with her, but I insisted on joining St John. In the end she agreed, only to quit a year later. =.= And, so many people quitting. I'm still joining. Why? Cause I feel like it's a waste if I quit now. I've already survived the first 3 years, another 2 years wouldn't hurt, right? But you know what? It does. Physically and mentally. Now I know why my left arm hurts so much, though I don't know why only my left arm hurts and not both arms. Now I know why my feet aches, especially almost every weekend, which totally ruined my mood to shop for hours. Now I know why my hair feels and smells like burnt seaweed. Now I know why I've gotten tanner compared to when I first came to Seafield. Why? The MARCHING. Yes. Stupid marching. If I'm not mistaken, I insisted on joining St John back then cause I was really interested in first aid and crap. I actually thought that St John teaches more instead of marching. I thought that was the scouts. Yeah, maybe that's why I didn't want to join. Now, I feel like a total idiot. Going there every Saturday only to get shouted at. Going there every Saturday only to march like there's no tomorrow. Going there every Saturday for first aid classes (which are like, maybe 1 out of 5 times) when my interest in first aid is no longer there. Why do I still go? Cause I passed 2 freaking first aid exams and I've already bought all the uniform and crap. Also, mum would most probably disagree if I told her I want to join Bomba, cause I've wasted 3 years in St John and if I join Bomba, I'll have to buy all those crap again and waste more time and money. And, most of my friends have already quit a long time ago, not that I have many friends there, but still, ugh. Just 2 more years, and it'll be over. If I'm going to form 6, hell, I'll not join them anymore. And, I'm gonna make sure that Nad makes the right chice next year so that she doesn't have to regret or get stuck in between like how I am now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  After marching for what seemed like eternity, checked the time during one of the water breaks. It was only 8.14am wtf. It wasn't even one hour yet after so long. Ugh. Around 9am we went into one of the class rooms to study our first aid, like FINALLY. Then, before class ended, choir members left the room for, well, choir. *smiles* It's great to see all those juniors who are so full of enthusiasm. Had audition after that. I was in group 9. I was so nervous that I forgotten that I have to look at the coach during the audition. Instead, I was looking at the Vi Jia 90% of the time. The other 10%? 7% looking at Mabel, 3% looking at the coach. That was when I suddenly remembered that I should be singing to them too. Audition finished real soon. Too soon, in fact. Cuase I came out jumping like an idiot. I know, stupid. But I was freaking nervous la kay. Didn't practise for 2 months, and after less than 5 meetings then want to go audition. If I was still in form 1 I probably wouldn't do that, cause I was still kinda cowardly last time. Still, being out of that room away from all the tension just made me feel so happy. Those jumps and short runs were nothing compared to what I would have done if there wasn't so many eyes staring at me like I'm some lunatic who just escaped from Tanjung Rambutan and ran all the way here to Seafield. Came home and jumped and laughed a lil more, cause there won't be any more auditions in a while. I hope. Still, hah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh yea, mum transformed our Christmas tree into a CNY tree. It's beautiful. Why can't I be more artistic like her?? Sighs. Anyway, going to sunway later. It's been a while since I last went there. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-633001505417257994?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/633001505417257994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/hell.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/633001505417257994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/633001505417257994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/hell.html' title='Hell.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1557338441345106636</id><published>2010-01-15T18:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T18:32:50.181+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rust.</title><content type='html'>It's already 2 weeks. Wow. Can't wait for the holidays. Heh. So, 2 weeks of school, and I'm already falling back on my homeworks. What a lousy student I am. Anyway, I just remembered why I hate going for tuitions. Homework. As if school work isn't enough, going for tuition means there'll be tuition work too. That was why I didn't want to go for tuitions in the first place. But, since my Physics teacher's secretly plotting to destroy our lives by making us fail our exams under her hands, I have no choice. And, also to stay in choir, cause mum's evil too. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Practise started last week. There's more and more new members coming in, which is kinda a good-and-bad thing. Hard to explain. Stupid left arm's aching like hell, my eyes are burning and I have no idea why. Must be the weather. I hate it when my eyes get super dry. It's so irritating that I'll have to rub it, and when I rub it, gone case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Off to piano now. Fingers are super rusty. It'll be a miracle if I survive tonights lesson. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1557338441345106636?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1557338441345106636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/rust.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1557338441345106636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1557338441345106636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/rust.html' title='Rust.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6484074011648260127</id><published>2010-01-11T19:46:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T19:52:57.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Diviasion.</title><content type='html'>Word of the day: DIVIASION&lt;br /&gt;  Meaning: To divide. Refer to Division.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Yep. That's what our Physics teacher said in class today. DiviAsion. Seriously. How is it possible that there people are allowed to teach? For 2 whole stinking periods I had no idea what was she crapping about. I couldn't even understand what she wanted us to do for our homework. I really need that tuition now. I have an alien who doesn't speak my language teaching me. I'm so gonna flunk. Starting tuition tomorrow. Sighs. Good thing is, it's very very very near my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Off to eat my durian. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6484074011648260127?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6484074011648260127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/diviasion.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6484074011648260127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6484074011648260127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/diviasion.html' title='Diviasion.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-3385747272728775383</id><published>2010-01-10T15:35:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T17:00:28.037+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lazyass.</title><content type='html'>Mum's really serious about the tuition thing. So, yeah. I'm gonna start my tuition soon. Most probably going to Pusat Tuisyen Akademik in ss14. Anyone going there? I don't really like being in certain places alone without having any friends. Mum sorta forced me to go. "If you insist on joining choir, then you have to go for tuition". Yeah. That's the price I have to pay since I INSIST on joining choir again this year. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Seeing all the new juniors that day made me feel so...OLD. I mean, I was once one of them. I used to be like them, the new kid in school, in clubs, practically everything. Being a form 4 student now, and looking at those form 1 students, it's like, wow, it's been 3 years already since I first stepped into Seafield? My fourth year now, another 2 or 3.5 years til I leave the school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I'm starting to get lazy again. I'll pack my bag, put my homeworks on the table, and stare at them. Yeah. Lazyass here. I wanna watch tv now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-3385747272728775383?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/3385747272728775383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/lazyass.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3385747272728775383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3385747272728775383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/lazyass.html' title='Lazyass.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-5403244979745869532</id><published>2010-01-07T16:16:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T16:42:17.883+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Police?</title><content type='html'>So, our sivik teacher asked us the other what our 'hala tuju jangka pendek dan panjang' was. Something to do with our aim and stuff. The whole class was talking and thinking bout theirs, while I just sat there blabbing out dumb ideas. Seriously. I had no idea what my aim is. We didn't really know what our aim is, but I was the most clueless one there. At least everyone had a rough idea of what they want. What do I want? Don't know. Teacher wouldn't let us use 'good results for SPM' cause the first 2 students have already said that. We then decided on O/A levels (i forgot), good university, good college, after which some of them couldn't be used because other people used it already for a few times. When it was my turn, I just blabbed out 'Short term, I hope to get at least a B for St. John. Long term, I want to be a musician.' Yeah, way to go nic. Musician? a B? Okay, maybe the B wasn't that bad. I got a C last year cause I wasn't that active. But I had my own reasons laa. But still, I couldn't think of any short term aim I want. What do I want? I want to be able to drive, I guess. What do I really want in the future? I have no idea. You know, it's kinda funny now when I look back at my report card back then in primary. Wonder why? Take a look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;br /&gt;2001 -    Doctor, Teacher, Police                         &lt;br /&gt;2002-    Doctor, Police, Teacher&lt;br /&gt;2003-    Scientist, Teacher, Doctor&lt;br /&gt;2004-    Doctor, Singer, Scientist&lt;br /&gt;2005-    Doctor, Singer, Scientist&lt;br /&gt;2006-    Doctor, Singer, Nurse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Forget bout the police thing. I don't even remember why I wanted to be a police when I was in std 1 and 2. I can't imagine myself as a police in the future now. Being a scientist seemed kinda fun to me back then. Cause I thought that mixing chemicals into a few bottles and making the whole lab explode was fun. I didn't know that there was so many stuff to remember back then. I didn't even know what was a beaker for goodness sake. And, I guess my teachers kinda inspired me to be like them. Especially my std 2 teacher. She made scolding and humiliating other students seem so easy. Not that I want to be a bully like her, I just didn't want to get BULLIED. Yeah, I was kinda a bully victim. Scratch that. Then, the idea of being a singer came into my head because I watched too much MTV. And, my kakak always talked to me about other singers, especially Akon. She loved his voice, but I don't. I didn't like his voice back then, and I still don't like it now. Yeah, sure, there's something about his voice that when you hear it, you'll know it's him immediately. But that doesn't mean you have to like him cause of that, right? I mean, I can recognise almost any artists' voice when I hear it, doesn't mean I like all of them. Though I love Taylor Swift. She's awesome. Anyway, the one that I never changed was being a doctor. It was always my first choice, except in std 3 cause I really wanted to blow up a lab. Stupid. Yes, I know. I was a stupid 9-year-old who watched too much cartoons and crazy shows like Mr. Bean. Now I know why my mum doesn't like us watching it. (yup, she banned us from watching that show cause she thinks he's an idiot, though he's a prof.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Me and my stupid ideas. But then, if I had something in mind when I was still a kid, shouldn't I have something to aim for now that I'm older? I mean, my brain should be growing maturely and have a better sense in making decisions, right? Then why am I still so lost? Even my sister already knows what she wants to be. Ugh. I hate my brain, sometimes, when it doesn't function nicely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Science's killing me. I'm starting to get lost, ALREADY. And, I'm freaking tired. I almost couldn't wake up this morning. Thank goodness the morning prayers were loud enough to wake me up. I'm hungry. Off to hunt for food. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-5403244979745869532?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/5403244979745869532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/police.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5403244979745869532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5403244979745869532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/police.html' title='Police?'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7389034036759869531</id><published>2010-01-05T22:21:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T22:48:24.009+08:00</updated><title type='text'>School.</title><content type='html'>School's already started. Waking up around 5.30 to 6am now. Alarm rings at 5.15am, I'll put it on snooze until I feel like waking up, which is usually 30 minutes later. Heh. Anyway, I'm no more a D class student. In primary, 1D-6D, secondary, 1D, 2D and the last one, 3D. This year, I'm in Fasih. I miss my old D. Sobs. So, I already have some homeworks to do, I don't really understand some of the stuff on my textbook. And, I have like, 3 people in class that are near to me to talk to most of the time in class, and another one wayyyy far at the other side of the class, which sums up to only 4 people. So, that obviously shows how my last 2 years (maybe) in high school's gonna be. Sighs. I miss my old classmates. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  No more late night movies, no more sleeping like a pig and waking up around noon. Sighs. Maybe I shouldn't have been so lazy during the hols. By the way, did I mention that I had the same freaky nightmare again on Sunday night? No? Some of you should know. Every year, right before school reopens, I'll have this weird dream. It's just so..weird. It's like, one minute, I'm in school, in my PAJAMAS. Then, I'll run around the school corridors, and then, I'll be in a huge toilet, like those Tapah resthouse toilets. And then, after walking in there for a while, I'm suddenly in class with my school uniform and my schoolbag. And then, I'll be walking in my house up the stairs, and when I look up, I'll see J there running around. It's always him running there. In fact, it's almost always the same students at the same place doing the same things every year in the same dream. The only thing that changed is SMK Seafield is now part of my dream, cause I'm studying there. In another few years, I'll probably dream of Lick Hung, Seafield and whatever school I'm going to. IT'S ALWAYS THE SAME. My goodness. It's like my brain saved this dream for every year before school starts. Ugh. Freaky. There's actually more of the dream, but I'm really lazy to type it out here. If you really want to know what kind of freak am I who dreams of such weird stuff every year, just ask me. It's easier for me to TALK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I'm off to sleep now. I look like a zombie every morning. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7389034036759869531?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7389034036759869531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/school.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7389034036759869531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7389034036759869531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2010/01/school.html' title='School.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-5265364160127385606</id><published>2009-12-31T22:39:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T23:20:38.121+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year</title><content type='html'>First of all, a very Happy New Year to everyone out there. I know it's not 2010 yet, but I'm in a mood to blog now, so, yeah. Anyway, went shopping in Subang Parade just now. You should have seen all the cars. My goodness, it was crazy. The whole road was practically full of cars. So, you could imagine how horrible the traffic was. Bought some stuff today which made me a very happy girl. But, didn't really enjoy walking around the mall cause of my stupid shoe. You see, the moment we found a parking, got out of the car and started walking towards the lift, a very, very 'nice' incident happened, TO ME. Less than 1 minute of walking, and the strap of my heels broke, on the right side. I thought I stepped on some gum or something but turned out it broke. RIGHT BEFORE I STARTED SHOPPING. Ended up walking around the mall with one broken strapped heel. That sure was one heck of a way to end my year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, after buying my stuff, mum went shopping on her own while I babysat my sis and her friend. Lepak-ed around the childrens' section. Those 2 soon-to-be-twelve-year-old kids that won't grow up ended up playing legos while I shopped alone. Then, I, the not-always-so-kind-hearted person here actually had to take care of the LEGOS while the 2 kids went to toilet. Imagine a big giant sitting on one of those tiny chairs playing legos all by herself for more than 15 minutes like a total idiot. All those little kids were staring at me like I'm some alien. *slaps head* Not that I blame them though, cause that's usually what I do when I see someone doing stuff that are either under or beyond their age. It was kinda embarassing though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  It's kinda hard to believe that it's gonna be 2010 in about an hour. And I'm gonna be 16 real soon. I feel so old. Hah. I still remember my graduation in 2006, my first day in form 1 and stuff. And, the holidays before form 1, when I had to buy new uniforms and stuff to prepare for secondary school. Here's something for you guys to laugh at. I actually CRIED in the fitting room while trying on the new uniform. Yes, I CRIED. Bought my first pinafore for secondary students in Parkson, Subang Parade. And while trying it alone in the fitting room, I just suddenly remembered that I'll never wear my old navy blue pinafore anymore. I was leaving my primary school. I was going to a new school, have new friends, everything was gonna change. And, remembering that I won't be with my old friends anymore, that started the water pipes. I spent more that 10 minutes in there with just ONE pinafore. Mum had to come and knock on the door to make sure that I'm still there and alive, not dead or kidnapped or fainted. And then, on orientation day, when I saw that so many from my class were still in the same school as me, and some in my class, I actually wanted to jump and hug all of them although there were some that I wasn't that close with, but I didn't. I wasn't that crazy. But still, seeing them made me happy. It took me quite some time to adjust to my new surroundings and new friends. I wasn't one of those talkative ones back then, cause I spent most of my time crying after school. Yeah, I know. I sound like one of those small kids who refuse to go to kindergarten and cry like their parents are gonna sell them off and never see them again. (fyi, I never cried when I had to go to nursery and kindy. I was a very brave little girl) But what to do la, I missed my friends so much. Every night cry until my eyes bengkak. Go ahead and laugh at the 2-to-3-years-ago-me. I'm a different person now, much stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, from leaving Lick Hung to crying in the fitting room to crying everyday after school to the crappy form 2 to crazy form 3 to pmr to results and now, to year 2010, form 4. I heard it's one hell of a year. Torture. I better start praying. Next thing you know, we'll be graduating from high school. Then, we'll be staying back for form 6 or going to college/university. And some will be going to other countries to pursue their studies. Hah. Funny how time passes by so fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  There's another 45 minutes to 12, so, I won't be online then. I'll be watching the fireworks from my house. Heh. I love watching fireworks. They somehow amaze me with those pretty colours. So, a very haapy year 2010 to everyone. May the new year bring happiness, good health, peace, love and wealth . Happy New Year everybody. Have an awesome year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-5265364160127385606?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/5265364160127385606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/happy-new-year.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5265364160127385606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5265364160127385606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-9126217915563272950</id><published>2009-12-26T13:04:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T13:34:26.816+08:00</updated><title type='text'>.</title><content type='html'>A late Merry Christmas to everyone out there. =) Didn't get to use the computer yesterday cause I was in cousins' house. It's gonna be a really short post, cause I'm dead tired from my lack of sleep. Anyway, antibiotics smell weird. It's not bitter, but it just doesn't smell right. I hate it. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Going out to summit later. Might be watching Avatar. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-9126217915563272950?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/9126217915563272950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/9126217915563272950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/9126217915563272950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html' title='.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1152953924516280343</id><published>2009-12-24T12:28:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T12:29:59.045+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Bad</title><content type='html'>Not too bad I guess. B for kh and chinese. I'm happy. =) Maybe Santa did read my letter. Heh. Congrats to everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1152953924516280343?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1152953924516280343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/not-bad.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1152953924516280343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1152953924516280343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/not-bad.html' title='Not Bad'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7339097635433865704</id><published>2009-12-24T10:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T10:41:46.619+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Someone Shoot Me</title><content type='html'>Going to school in a few more minutes to get my bloody results. I already know what I'm gonna get. I think. 2A's probably. That's all I'm gonna get. Or worse, nothing. Gosh. I can't even sit still right now. To make things worse, I'm still having my fever. Started since yesterday actually. Throat was bengkak and infected, runny nose, so I could hardly breathe, and fever, which make me shiver like mad when it was so hot. I even turned off all the fans cause I was feeling so cold. And, I barely slept last night. Not because today's result day. But because I had to wake up every few hours to take my medicine. I took them around 9 before I slept. Woke up at 1am, 3am, 5am, 7am, and finally, 9am. You guys must be thinking that I'm mad. Taking so many pills. But, I had to take the sore throat thing every 4 hours, my antibiotics, fever and runny nose pills every 6 hours. That's why I barely slept. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Damn nervous now. Why didn't I study harder??? Sighs. Too late. Might as well just go and face my doom now. I can't even cry later when I get my lousy results cause it'll just make me sick again. I don't know bout you guys, but when I cry, my body temperature tends to go higher, thus giving me a fever. I don't want that again. Still, my results. Argh. Someone please shoot me in the head now. &gt;.&lt;'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Gotta go now. OMG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7339097635433865704?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7339097635433865704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/someone-shoot-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7339097635433865704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7339097635433865704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/someone-shoot-me.html' title='Someone Shoot Me'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6144632765946301172</id><published>2009-12-22T00:01:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T00:16:24.202+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fugitive.</title><content type='html'>Remember this picture..?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Sy-c7NYklXI/AAAAAAAAAMo/-BQI1dKAkOQ/s1600-h/Image038.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417721417768932722" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Sy-c7NYklXI/AAAAAAAAAMo/-BQI1dKAkOQ/s400/Image038.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Yeah, that one. Remember the girl in blue shirt who was tortured by the alien who loves purple? Yeah, that girl. And, yes, the alien still loves purple. So please keep everything that's purple away from her before she grabs them and jumps on her spaceship (which she won't let me drive) and fly back to her planet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, back to the main point. The girl in blue shirt. Miss Yiow See Yeng. Yes. She's finally 15. Couldn't send my wishes to her tomorrow cause my credit would have expired by then (now) so I had to send them earlier. Hope you don't mind. Oh well, I'm still blogging bout you now, it's 12.10am. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  This young lady here might be a fugitive. Why would I say that? Because, she always hides her face when taking pictures. She won't even let me get a single picture of her. I do have one tho, a very nice and sweet picture of her, but she won't let me post it up here. Private and Confidential, claims the fugitive. Yeah, right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417721405777315554" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Sy-c6gtjBuI/AAAAAAAAAMg/zyL4ZXMUya4/s400/friends+(11).jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Picture #1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Sy-c6UkpZcI/AAAAAAAAAMY/pYDXR5l9kSM/s1600-h/1_465064729m%5B1%5D+(104).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417721402518758850" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Sy-c6UkpZcI/AAAAAAAAAMY/pYDXR5l9kSM/s400/1_465064729m%5B1%5D+(104).jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Picture #2&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;  See? All also cover her face wann. She must be on the cops most wanted list. Someone come and arrest her! I've got her now, where's my reward? Heh. Anyway, I don't have to type much. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;HAPPY 15TH BIRTHDAY&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;YIOW SEE YENG&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;  You know I love you. Thanks for being such an awesome friend. You're like, my laughing angel. Yeah, a laughing angel. Cause you make me laugh everyday in school. Seriously. If you weren't there, I would be moody and cranky everyday. Just a few more years, and we'll go clubbing, kay? Haha. Have an awesome birthday. I know you love me too. =) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;-Nic-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6144632765946301172?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6144632765946301172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/fugitive.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6144632765946301172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6144632765946301172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/fugitive.html' title='Fugitive.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Sy-c7NYklXI/AAAAAAAAAMo/-BQI1dKAkOQ/s72-c/Image038.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-3178214107396820412</id><published>2009-12-21T18:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T20:06:45.138+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bored.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I attempted to make sushi for lunch today. But, after spending so much time trying to roll the rice with the seaweed, I gave up. Partly beacuse my seaweed was already soggy and torn. And, my hand was a mess. I forgotten the water. So, after that, I tried rolling everything into a ball, so that it'll be like, a sushi ball. Failed badly. Gave up in the end and just threw everything onto my plate and ate with a spoon. Yeah. Just like normal meals, except that this was supposed to be sushi. Sighs. I should totally cut 'chef' off my career list. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyway, cousin played this song in the car while we were on the way to Pavillion yesterday. I'm so in love with the song. Seriously. The Dad actually arranged the song for his 7-year-old daughter. How sweet is that? It's one of the sweetest thing a dad can do for his little girl. The song is really nice. The arrangement for both songs into one whole medley. No bumps or weird stuff. The whole thing is just so flowing and perfect, to me. I know nothing's perfect, but this arrangement sounds perfect to me. I just love it so much. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KfH2BY5pdLw&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KfH2BY5pdLw&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, I was really bored. Came across this video on Wei Ying's blog. It's totally hilarious. I couldn't stop laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Nqvg0C90FhM&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Nqvg0C90FhM&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decided to search for more videos on YouTube since I was so bored. Found a few more videos that made me laugh again and again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DBgVmx4VVR4&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DBgVmx4VVR4&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/t7XFyQhT1sw&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/t7XFyQhT1sw&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1yqVD0swvWU&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1yqVD0swvWU&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, there's the Nigahiga videos that are totally hilarious. Seriously. You guys should really watch this. You'll totally love it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/goix7jFXD9Q&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/goix7jFXD9Q&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4dx0MwgIZos&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4dx0MwgIZos&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Enjoy. =)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;-Nic-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-3178214107396820412?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/3178214107396820412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/bored.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3178214107396820412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3178214107396820412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/bored.html' title='Bored.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1777268374943205644</id><published>2009-12-18T11:40:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T12:28:31.326+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Santa..</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Santa,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Hi. It's me, Nicole. I'm already 15, and in my 15 years of living on this planet, this is my very first letter to you. This year, all I want for Christmas is NOT my two front teeth. I already have them and I have no plans on losing them yet. Though you can save them for another 50 years or so, and if you don't mind giving fake teeth to old people, you can give them to me then. In another 50 years. Not now. And, I don't need you to send me Taylor Swift like Evan Taubenfield wrote in his song, Merry Swiftmas. Also, I don't need you to give me some love. I already have all the love I need from my friends and family. You can give those love to those who really needs it, if you've been listening to me. I don't need toys either, cause I'm a lil old for that now. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Santa, I really wish that you're one of the examiners who will be marking my PMR papers. Or better, one of those who will be printing out our results. This year, what I really want for Christmas is at least 5A's in my PMR. Just 5. Though that would be impossible, cause you're supposed to be in the North Pole right now, preparing all the Christmas gifts for the good kids out there. Hey, there are papers and ink and printers in your house, right? Could you print me my results then? I think that would be really awesome. Could you?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Dear Santa, if you're already working on my Christmas gift (I hope you are), just a reminder, you'll have to send it to the education department, I think. Not my house. Cause 1, I don't have a chimney in my house for you to climb. My mum wouldn't buy me any ChipsMore, and I just finished the last packet of Oreos last week, so there wouldn't be any cookies for you to eat, unless you don't mind Julie's Cheese Crackers. Also, I drink low fat, less sugar soya, which is totally tasteless and horrible to drink. So, there wouldn't be any nice, warm milk for you to drink either. And, if you prefer Evan Taubenfields' way of replacing milk and cookies, I'm sorry. I don't have Taylor Swifts' Fearless Platinum Edition in my house. I just listen to her songs from YouTube. 2, I'm supposed to get my results from the school, and the school is supposed to get our results from the edu department, I think. I don't know if they have any milk and cookies available for you tho. But either way, you'll have to send it to them, not my house. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  By the way, I hope you don't mind reading my letter to you on my blog. Cause I have no idea what your address is. And I don't have your email address either. You should have posted them up somewhere on Google. Or ask one of your elves to make posters or ads. Or you could go on TV! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Santa, I think that my Christmas request is quite simple, don't you think so? It's just a piece of paper with at least 5A's stamped on it. So, please? Could you? Pretty please? *stretches eyes as big as possible to show puppy dog eyes since my eyes are tiny* Oh, and Santa? I don't know if you're real, you're most probably fake or unreal or whatever, but either way, I still love you. So please don't forget my present.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Desperate for an average results,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nicole&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  &lt;/em&gt;Yeah, that would be my letter to Santa. PMR results will be out on the 24th of December, on Christmas Eve. How wonderful. Now my Christmas is ruined. Sighs. I had no idea about this cause I was in Carrefour when they annouced it on the news. Ballet friends and teacher threw the bomb at me before class. I'm so dead. Right before Christmas. Less than one week left. Wth. Gah, even Santa can't save me this time. Sobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1777268374943205644?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1777268374943205644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/dear-santa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1777268374943205644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1777268374943205644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/dear-santa.html' title='Dear Santa..'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-5195135678699712981</id><published>2009-12-13T23:10:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T00:20:01.504+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sad Movies Make Me Cry.</title><content type='html'>Went shopping yesterday. Finally bought some stuff. *Smiles* Walked in heels for more than 10 hours. It wasn't torturing at all. But, people say that if you wear heels too often, you'll have huge, ugly calf muscles and your veins will stick out. I already have the huge ugly muscles, but no popping veins. YET. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, I'm a sucker for sad movies/stories/materials. Remember the Tsunami movie we choir people watched on the bus buring our Pahang trip? Yeah, that one. I cried on the bus cause the movie was damn freaking sad. I was probably crying throughout the movie (where the disasters started). Yesterday while shopping in Megamall or the Gardens, I don't really remember where was I. We happened to pass this candy area and there was a tv showing the movie Tsunami. It was the scene where the guy had to make a choice on who to save. After he saved the girl, he jumped back into the sea to save the other guy. But, unfortunately, only one person can be saved. So it was either him or the other guy. In the end he passed his orange watch to the guy and asked him to pass it to the girl, cut the rope and plunged into the sea. He sacrificed his life. Seriously. I only watched that part and it was like, what? 5-10 minutes? And everyone was staring at the idiot who just arrived and started crying within 3 minutes. Seriously. I always cry if there's a sad scene. Movie, books, whatever. Even reading news articles. Last year when I read New Moon on the computer, I cried. After I finished reading, just sitting on the couch doing nothing, I suddenly remembered a few chapters which were really sad. Especially the part where Edward tells Bella that he doesn't want her anymore, that'll be the last time she'll see him and crap, when Bella cried, the months of zombie life..etc..I cried. I just sat there and cried. There were a few times when sis saw me and gave me the what's-wrong-with-you-are-you-crazy look. Then, while watching New Moon with sis the other day, I cried. AGAIN. After the movie I asked sis did she cry and she said no. Then, she asked me if I did, when I didn't answer, she laughed at me and called me a crybaby. WTH. She's the crybaby at home la kay. Stupid. Anyway, read a few chapters of Romeo and Juliet, and I cried. STUPID. A few chapters. Gah. Stupid tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, my sleeping time is totally messed up. I sleep around 3 and wake up around noon. Nowonder mum's so mad with me. I'm a pig. Ugh. Wonder how I'll wake up when school reopens. Sighs. School. So soon. Okay, I feel sleepy enough to want to sleep now. Nites everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-5195135678699712981?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/5195135678699712981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/sad-movies-make-me-cry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5195135678699712981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5195135678699712981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/sad-movies-make-me-cry.html' title='Sad Movies Make Me Cry.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7522997471296673277</id><published>2009-12-11T17:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T18:53:31.848+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Slideeee.</title><content type='html'>Woke up around 6 yesterday, left the house around 7 and went to KL. Since it's so hard to get a ticket to the skybridge, we had to go &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; early. Yesterday was probably the only day I woke up that early huring the hols. Anyway, got our tickets, went up and watched some clips bout Petronas then went to the bridge. I don't see what's so special bout it. But for people who love photography, you guys should go there. The view is kinda nice up there. After breakfast, the bridge and lunch, went to the Petrosains thingi. Science is a wonder. I mean, it's interesting and all, but I just don't like studying it cause my memory card's too tiny, can't hold much data. Why else would I fail my exams. Gah. Anyway, the best part of the science thingi was the slide. Heh. It was really, really fun. Before we entered the loooooong slide...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sis: Jie, where are you?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Up here la! You stuck ah?&lt;br /&gt;Sis: No. Why?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Not stuck? Where are you then?&lt;br /&gt;Sis: Down here la!&lt;br /&gt;Me: Down here where la?&lt;br /&gt;Sis: I already reach la. Why you so slow wan?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Wth..=.=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Seriously. She just went in and less than 4 seconds, I could hear her voice so clearly. So obviously I thought she got stuck somewhere in the turning area la. Who'd knew she was already down there? I didn't know that it would take such little time to reach the bottom. Anyway, it was really fun. I forgotten to close my eyes when I slide down. So, seeing things move so fast, scary. Scary, but FUN. =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Wanted to skip ballet last night, but mum insisted that I go for my class or else I won't get to follow them out next time. Ugh. Spent the whole day out and still had to rush to ballet. Damn freaking tiring. Oh well, it's just for a few more months. So, yeah, I'll just have to bear with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Christmas is coming soon. However, I don't feel so happy bout it this year. Know why? Cause PMR results are after Christmas. The sooner it's here, the sooner I'll die. Stupid exams. Anyway, I've already set up the Christmas tree and stuff, and I finished the second Christmas song. Heh. Still deciding which one to perform during the party, cause both songs are quite different from each other. One is bright and happy, it's mostly bout Christmas fun. The other is about how lucky we are cause we get to celebrate Christmas, but the poor ones are out on the street and stuff. So, yeah, it's kinda sad. Which one? I don't know. Gah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7522997471296673277?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7522997471296673277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/slideeee.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7522997471296673277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7522997471296673277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/slideeee.html' title='Slideeee.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1973983447805329661</id><published>2009-12-09T15:12:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T15:22:52.519+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Failed. Aural. Gah.</title><content type='html'>Went for my piano lesson with teacher just now after so many weeks. I haven't been there since before PMR started. So, I still remember the stuff I'm supposed to remember. Yay. Anyway, I may have gotten a distinction for my exam, BUT, yes, there's ALWAYS A BUT. Ugh. Teacher told me today that I actually failed my aural tests. FAILED. YES. I FAILED MY AURAL. How stupid is that? I actually FAILED my aural! Like, seriously. *slaps head* No wonder Ms Mary kept giving that weird smile throughout my aural test. She knew that I was gonna fail. *bangs head at the wall* When teacher told me that I failed my aural, I seriously felt like crying. I haven't failed my music for such a long time. Sobs. Anyhoo, I'm still keeping that D. But I still feel like I don't deserve it. I mean, hello? I failed! How can they give me that D after I failed my aural? Aren't they supposed to like, give me a Merit or just a Pass? Cause teacher says that what they usually do if the student fails a certain section. Of course, if they fail every section then the whole thing fail la. But, still. Not so proud bout my D anymore. I failed. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, Christmas is in less than 3 weeks. Mum told her friend that sis and I are gonna perform at the party, so I had to use the song I wrote earlier (it was meant for my family on Christmas day) for that party. Still trying to come up with another song to replace the one that was 'stolen' in a way by mum. Gah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Nobody's home. I'm really bored. Everyday, it's just wake up, breakfast, bath, piano, chores, lunch, guitar, songwriting, chores, internet, piano, dinner, tv, guitar, sleep. How boring could life be? I really miss my friends now. Sighs. Off to crack my head for some words now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1973983447805329661?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1973983447805329661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/failed-aural-gah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1973983447805329661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1973983447805329661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/failed-aural-gah.html' title='Failed. Aural. Gah.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-2270176407688483022</id><published>2009-12-08T14:25:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T14:43:19.957+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mery Swiftmas</title><content type='html'>Nothing much happened these days except that I'm so dead cause I just read Yoke Lin's blog and my 5A's just flew away, so, yeahh. Wonder what I'll do on result day. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, was reading Taylor Swift's tweets and saw this: &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGM6Xtx02M4"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGM6Xtx02M4&lt;/a&gt;  Decided to check it out. It's really adorable. Like, seriously. He actually wrote and sang a song for her. How sweet is that? You guys should really check out the video. Great voice, funny lyrics. Totally awesome. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Here's the lyrics in case anyone wants to sing along with the video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Merry Swiftmas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear Santa, I don't know if you're listening, but I've been pretty good this year. And I don't know if it matters that I celebrate Chanukah, but I hope you get my wish&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hey what do you know its time for Christmas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I've been acting good all year&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I never have been all that superstitious&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But that don't mean I hate reindeer&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So Santa I don't know if you're listening, I'm not quite sure how this works&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wanna good girl for hugging and kissing and not a head case who only dates jerks&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't need more toys and shinny things, I just want a blond who likes to sing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So don't put a bow on a box, theres no need to send Megan Fox&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't need a big mansion, so lets nicks Scarlett Johansson&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There'll be tear drops on my guitar if I end up with Amy Smart&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So Santa for my gift, please send me Taylor Swift&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So Santa when you come down the chimney you can skip right pass the kitchen&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I know you're sick of all of the cookies, so I got you Fearless Platinum Edition&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And no one will mess with her when she's mine&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And Kanye will watch him mouth next time&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So I'm gonna have to refuse, if in comes Penelope Cruz&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If she is a bad girl I'm sending her back cause Lindsay Lohan is whack (just like crack)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'd rather have Jason Mraz, than be stuck with Cameron Diaz&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So Santa for my gift, please send me Taylor Swift&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I know her and I are gonna fit, Taylor Taubenfeld has ring to it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'd rather be hanging alone, than making out with Emma Stone&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yeah I'd rather get a supina, than kick it with Angelina&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And yeah I'll probably shed a few tears, if you mess up and send Britney Spears&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So Santa for my gift, please send me Taylor Swift &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totally awesome, don't you think so? Cause I do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-2270176407688483022?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/2270176407688483022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/mery-swiftmas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2270176407688483022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2270176407688483022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/mery-swiftmas.html' title='Mery Swiftmas'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-9221749356230680808</id><published>2009-12-06T14:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T15:07:16.059+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Alien Girl</title><content type='html'>Watched New Moon yesterday with sis. It was great. Stupid book and movie always make me cry. Ugh. Anyway, the movie? I think the wolves look like huge german shepherds. Lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I look like a zombie these days. Been sleeping after 3 in the morning and waking around 8. Crazy? Yes, it must be. I feel so tired and dead, even mum says that I have horrible panda eyes now. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412002173073557122" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SxtLTWmxBoI/AAAAAAAAAL4/oNkp0qel-i4/s400/Image038.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  See that poor girl that's covering her face? Yeah, her. Apparently, she was being tortured by the alien next to her (yes, the one that's giving us the 'peace' sign) when I snapped this picture. Wonder why she's so scared? Take a wild guess. Can you guess it? Yes? No?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  No? Well, I'll tell you why, since I was the only witness there. Heh. Pink-shorts-peace-sign-giving-alien plotted to kidnap Girl-in-blue-shirt because she needed a white mouse to experiment her make-up and manicure skills on. So, Girl-in-blue-shirt was the lucky (or unlucky) chosen one. But, lucky for the girl, the alien last minute changed her mind and decided to paint her own nails instead. Here, I've got proof..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412002177866729586" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SxtLTodjCHI/AAAAAAAAAMA/TouBjLtjgv8/s400/Image039.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; See? See? SEE?? Told ya I've got the proof. So, it is scientifically proven by the Elocin Laboratory that aliens love manicures. Heh. Some big discovery it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412002188005388434" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SxtLUOOysJI/AAAAAAAAAMI/6WgVJFGTGXg/s400/Image040.jpg" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  The happy little alien after finishing her manicure. Oh yea, the alien loves Melbourne too. People there, watch out. She'll probably come to your house and grab every purple thing in her way. Another alien fact: Aliens love purple. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412002189618274786" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SxtLUUPVYeI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/vrAqPruU_e0/s400/fr+(1).jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  The happy little alien. Happy 15th Birthday! Keep smiling, you don't look so alien-ny like that. Heh. Anyway, may all your wishes come true. You're finally older now. I'm glad you liked the 'newspaper' I gave you. Take care, don't be so emo. Aliens should be happy little creatures who jump and dance the whole day and sing in their little squeeky alien voices. Lol. Anyway, have a blast. I love you, little alien.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Nic-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-9221749356230680808?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/9221749356230680808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/alien-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/9221749356230680808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/9221749356230680808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/12/alien-girl.html' title='Alien Girl'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SxtLTWmxBoI/AAAAAAAAAL4/oNkp0qel-i4/s72-c/Image038.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7858500464974677297</id><published>2009-11-29T14:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T15:21:48.229+08:00</updated><title type='text'>News.</title><content type='html'>Pangkor was awesome. The beach was cleaner than Penang, the water was clearer, I swallowed some sea water (yes, it really is salty), accidentally stabbed my foot with some broken shells in the sea and almost drowned myself. Yup. I still can't float and can't really swim. So, instead of learning how to swim of practising, I just hugged the volleyball and kick around the water with my feet. Smart? No. I almost let go of the ball, that's why I almost drowned myself. Stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, I've got some news. Shocking news. And, no, it has nothing to do with the New Moon movie or any of the stars in it or whatever celebrity gossips. Well, okay, it might not be big news to you guys, it might not be shocking at all. But how often do you see me eating something I fear? Not often? Wait, never, right? Guess what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ATE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRAWNS!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  1 slightly larger-than-normal-sized prawn, 1 mantis prawn or whatever it is, and 1 gigantic, freakishly, huge and disgusting prawn. Everyone at the table were going on and on about how nice it was, how delicious it tasted. I just stared at them like they were some aliens. By the way, I did not willingly eat those prawns. Mum made me eat them. Wait, she FORCED me to eat them, cause we were in Pangkor and the food there were mainly seafood. So, I HAD to eat them. To be exact, I swallowed it. I didn't really chew my food. Just peeled the shells off, throw it in my mouth, dug my teeth into it once and throw it to the back of my mouth where it goes down my throat and into my sick stomach. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, I'm gonna start hiding myself in the house or wear something longer til my skin goes back to it's normal colour. Mum says it's possible if I do that. I have like, 3 or 4 different colours on my back. Argh. Oh yea, I saw a monkey peeing. o.o Not that I'm a perv or what, it was like, right above my head in the trees, and thank goodness I did not continue walking or I would've been pee-ed on. Disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I wanna watch New Moon! It's like, everyone I know already watched it besides me. Who am I gonna watch it with then? Sobs. Gtg now, cousin wants her laptop back. Bye!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7858500464974677297?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7858500464974677297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/11/news.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7858500464974677297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7858500464974677297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/11/news.html' title='News.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-8677925326933657174</id><published>2009-11-24T00:40:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T01:00:56.434+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hols</title><content type='html'>Blogging from my cousins' house now. The beach was awesome. It's not as clean as it used to be, but, yeah. Better than nothing, right? Spent 2 days under the sun (and rain). Mum taught me how to search for &lt;em&gt;'lumek', &lt;/em&gt;it's a hokkien word. It looks something like the lala we always eat, but the shell is thicker and harder. Oh, did I mention that I actually went into the sea? Went in as in walked into the water til it's shoulder level. YES. I WENT THAT DEEP!!! Heh. I've never went in that deep before because I've stupid phobias. At least  think I do. When I climbed up the rocks to snap some pictures, I always had this feeling of falling off the rocks into the sea and crushing / drowing myself. Really. It's like my whole heart was gonna jump out of my chest. Or when I stood on the balcony, I felt like I was falling off. Damn scary. The same thing happens when I'm in the water. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  2 days under the sun. I'm at least one tone darker now. Seriously. All those sun and swimming gave me a half-dark-half-fair back. I look hideous. And oh, I just realised that I do not get dark immediately. I turn red first, then dark. Sighs. Won't be attending the choir lunch tomorrow. Sobs. Wished I could, but I just can't make it back in time. Argh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Going to Pangkor this thursday. Haha. After all these years of staying away from the beach, ah. I'll be so much more darker after the hols. Good thing or bad? I don't know. Off to sleep now. I'm exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-8677925326933657174?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/8677925326933657174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/11/hols.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8677925326933657174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8677925326933657174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/11/hols.html' title='Hols'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-4811446999703545964</id><published>2009-11-19T13:30:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T14:11:12.133+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beach</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405685373321904290" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SwTaNNxggKI/AAAAAAAAALo/CNAR6tGh1Z4/s400/dreamland-beach-bali.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The last time I went to a beach was with the choir peeps at Pahang. Sighs. And the last time before that? I don't even remember. A few years ago I guess. Anyway, mum said we might be going to the beach this weekend after the wedding. Can't wait! I just love the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Really lazy to blog these few days. All I do the whole day is eat, sleep, piano, guitar, tv, online, ballet, theory. Something like that. Sighs. Lifeless. My plan to find a part-time job failed, cause mum wouldn't let me get one. Ish. So, I'll just waste my lifeless life doing the same things again and again and again at home. Such a boring person, ain't I? Can't wait to go out with friends again. Miss them so much. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh yea, to all those taking their exams out there, good luck! I shall stop crapping here. Til then, bye!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405685381369604114" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SwTaNrwOqBI/AAAAAAAAALw/ajudPCisiHI/s400/Waikiki_Beach_at_Sunset.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  Such a beautiful sunset. It's been a long time since I last saw one like this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Nic-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-4811446999703545964?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/4811446999703545964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/11/beach.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4811446999703545964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4811446999703545964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/11/beach.html' title='Beach'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SwTaNNxggKI/AAAAAAAAALo/CNAR6tGh1Z4/s72-c/dreamland-beach-bali.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-3751304240648662001</id><published>2009-11-13T00:16:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T01:05:10.351+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Craps</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow's the last day of school. Somewhere deep down, inside of me, there's a voice telling me to go. But, as usual, the devil always wins. I'll be skipping school tomorrow, just as I did today. I don't see the point in going to school if we're not gonna do anything there. I mean, Talentime just finished on Wednesday. That activity is like, the highlight of the year, the one that marks the end of school for us. Since it's over already, what more is there for us to do in school besides sit and rot for 6 freaking hours? Sure, it won't be so bad if you have friends there to talk to. But, most of mine already self declared their holidays a long time ago. There's still a few more who still attend school regularly (in which I really admire their school spirit), but, hey, I'd rather sleep at home for a few more hours. Besides, I really need those sleep. I still feel lifeless after so many days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, everyone's talking bout themselves now that the school days are comiong to an end for 2009. So, I shall talk bout mine too. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Wait, I just remembered something. I don't really have anything to talk about. Seriously. See how lifeless I am? Okay, if I make an effort and search my brain, maybe I'll come up with something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Searching..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Searching..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still searching..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, if you're bored..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should probably leave now..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'm a really really boring person..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And whatever crap you're about to read later would just be boring anyway..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Okay, I'll just talk about what I think about myself then, since I have nothing to talk about but still want to crap about something. Get what I mean? I think you do. If you don't, nevermind then. I'm just crapping anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, spent some time thinking bout my past these few days. (Yes, these few days, cause I was freaking bored) And, I realised, that all these while, when I actually complained and criticized others, I'm actually talking about myself. Well, I didn't realise that when I was doing it, but I do now, when I think about it. I've always thought that I was the independent and mature one. But, the truth is, I'm not. There was so many times when I had to depend on others more than I should. There were so many times when I wanted to do things on my own but ended up asking others to do it for me. When I see others acting childishly, I'll hate it. Don't get me wrong here, I don't really hate people. I just, dislike, their attitude. I don't like it when people tend to act or think as if they're still in kindy or primary. But then, thinking of some things that I did, I was the one who acted childishly. I was one of those people whose attitudes I hated (dislike). I was the childish one. There were also times when I laughed at others who acted stupidly in certain situations. Yes, I laughed. Maybe not on the outside, but on the inside, I was rolling on the floor and laughing so hard that tears came out of my eyes. Get what I mean? I'm not such a nice person after all, am I? I'm not the person that everyone thinks I am. Like I've mentioned probably a hundred times before, I'm unpredictable. And I wear a mask, probably for everyday of my life. Though I sometimes take it off and be the real me, most of the time it's on my face, there, faking everything. Not that I want to be a faker. I really do want to be myself. In fact, I enjoy being myself. Unfortunately, those moments are realy short. And I can only enjoy it sometimes when I'm with the right people. Feel like I'm a stranger now? You probably would. I admit that I do hate people who are rude and bitchy. But, fact is, I actually hate them because I hate the devil in me. I hate the bitch in me that sometimes takes over and control my mind. Remember those times when I'm sarcastic or mean and say hurtful things? Yeah. Those are the times when the devil/bitch is out. I try real hard to control myself, but sometimes I just slip. Pfft. I don't even know what am I crapping about. Anyway, long story short, I'm not exactly the angelic sweetheart you think I am. I'm actually the bitch that everyone hates. It's just that I do a good job at hiding and controlling myself. If I didn't, I'd probably be on everyone's Hate List by now. Yes. I'm actually that bad. Hard to believe? Maybe. Anyway, I sometimes feel like I'm just like those loner you see in movies. The one who doesn't seem to fit in anywhere no matter how hard she tries. It's kinda scary sometimes, cause you don't know who to turn to when you need a person to talk to. So, my sometimes loner attitude has resulted in me writing songs and picking up old Harper who I've abandoned for such a long time. Surprisingly, it helps. Writing what I feel and what I think into songs and singing them, makes me feel much better. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Crap. Wasn't I supposed to talk about my school life? Okay. School. Besides the fact that the school rules and some of the teachers really get on my nerves sometimes, everything is just awesome. Especially the friends. They really make me happy. Without them, I'll probably drop to my knees and beg my mum to let me be home schooled. See how lonely I am? Or, how BORING I am? Hah. Okay. School. I got a 'C' for st john this year cause I wasn't really active in it. Skipped duties and stuff. So, yeah. I kinda deserved that 'C'. Got a 'B' for rumah hijau. Not bad. I got a 'C' last year. Heh. And, best of all, 'A' for choir. Really happy with that. I mean, this whole year, it has always been choir, choir, choir and CHOIR. Though I sometimes wish that I could quit, I still love it. Not just the trainings, but also the leaders, the coaches, the FAMILY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Ah, cut the crap. Mum's screaming at me to go to sleep. It's already 1.04am. Bye people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-3751304240648662001?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/3751304240648662001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/11/craps.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3751304240648662001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3751304240648662001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/11/craps.html' title='Craps'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-982692218136708369</id><published>2009-11-11T23:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T23:49:51.527+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Miss Pahang.!</title><content type='html'>Finally in the mood to blog. Heh. So, came back from Pahang on Sunday. The experience we had there? Priceless. Irreplaceble. Nothing could compare to that. It's not just about competing with other teams there, it's about what we actually gained throughout the whole experience. And, how our bond strengthened in the process. Really miss Pahang now. Everything there was just so, so, so amazing.! I WANNA GO BACK. Seriously. You know what? We should organize a trip to somewhere on our own one day. That'll be awesome. I miss Pahang. I know I've already mentioned that for goodness-knows-how-many-times but still, I miss it. Pictures. Some are in my phone. Mostly in other people's cameras. And, I'm really lazy to upload it here. If you guys wanna see the pictures, just go to those choir members fb to view it. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Been wearing slippers to school since Monday. Clumsy here scraped her leg on the rock while on the beach on Sunday. Yeah. On our way home from Pahang, we actually stopped by the beach. It was wonderful. I haven't been to the beach in like, 3 years? Or was it 4? I don't remember. That just shows how long I've been away from the beach, doesn't it? Anyway, after I scraped my leg, tiny toe on my left foot, to be exact, I just went on and joined the others. Thank goodness Mabel told me to use a plaster to cover my wound. What the hell was I thinking?! Going to the sea with my wound opened. (Fyi, tiny bits of flesh were sticking out. Imagine that.) *smacks head* I must have been crazy. Anyway, had ice cream from McD. Uncle Tan belanja-ed us KFC. Took pictures. Went on the bus and continued our journey. Oh, Aunty Yvonne let us watch Tsunami on the bus before we went to the beach. So, I told myself, if there's an earthquake, hide under a mattress; if there tsunami, hold on to a mattress and don't let go. Why? Figure it out. Or you can ask me in school. Heh. Anyway, my toe still hurts. People actually STEPPED on it in school. Freaking pain. And, I still went for ballet just now, so, yeah. It's getting worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  And, I haven't practised my piano for a week. Teacher's so gonna kill me when I start my lessons again. Sighs. I miss Hannah! Hah. My fingers are like, so stiff. Suddenly feel like stopping my piano instead of continuing my diploma. Literally slapped myself just now when I thought of that. I've came this far and I've definitely worked too hard to let it go now. No way am I stopping. Stupid laziness. Gah. Oh, I've also started practising my guitar after stopping for so many days. Now there's blisters on my left fingers again. Just great. =.=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Seafield Talentime today. Participated in the solo and duet category. Well, the duet was kinda a last minute decision. My partner? Chang Yi Shuen. It was okay I guess. Besides the fact that my voice was shaking throughout the whole performance cause I was literally shivering on the stage due to nervousness. We got the third place. Kinda happy. I mean, I didn't expect to win anything, but, yeah. Anyway, congrats to the other winners.! You guys were awesome. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh, and I was playing around with some words yesterday before going to sleep and I came up with a short chorus. Wee~~ And, I still look like a zombie cause I slept for a total of less than 9 hours from Friday til Monday. 3 nights of sleep, less than 9 hours. We're supposed to sleep for 6 to 8 hours each day. So, yeah, I'm really tired. I now fall alseep whenever I clos my eyes, which is not a good thing. I could've fallen asleep in school and maybe did some stupid stuff without knowing it. Maybe I'll end up sleep walking to the priciple's offince. That would be interesting. I think I'm gonna sleep now. Not that I want to, but the feeling's there. I'll probably zonk out infront of the computer. Sighs. Nites people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-982692218136708369?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/982692218136708369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-miss-pahang.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/982692218136708369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/982692218136708369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-miss-pahang.html' title='I Miss Pahang.!'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-4743638466907882689</id><published>2009-10-31T14:42:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T15:22:41.569+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Durian.</title><content type='html'>Another belated birthday post to this girl here. Should have posted it yesterday but I was too frustrated. Sorry. Anyway, I've only known you for less than 3 years, but still, you're an amazing friend. Being around you, it's just, it's just really good, you know? I don't have to pretend or be anyone infront of you. I just have to be ME, and I really like that. I like being me without having to hide or anything. Sure, you can be quite emotional and sick sometimes when you have your love conversations with you-know-who, but still, you're just so easy-going. Not to mention that you're one of those very very very lucky (or unlucky) people who've seen my broke down before. I seldom break down infront of others. Rarely. Probably never, but yeah, I broke that few months ago. So, I just want you to know that you're an amazing friend. And if you ever consider being a mid-wife, please don't. Not because you'll end up killing someone like Mabel almost did, but you might get sick. It's a tough job. Ah, what the crap. Ignore that. Just typed it out of no reason. I just remembered how Mabel almost killed me the other day. Hah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SuvdvZB8LAI/AAAAAAAAALg/IVWMUf_F_WY/s1600-h/shuen.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 253px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398652384576285698" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SuvdvZB8LAI/AAAAAAAAALg/IVWMUf_F_WY/s400/shuen.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;  Happy belated 15th Birthday! Hope you had an awesome day. =)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  Went for choir practise this morning. It's supposed to be a school replacement day today, but the whole school seemed empty. Well, there were people upstairs, but I didn't see any form 3's anywhere. All sleeping at home I guess. Going out with cousins to have dim sum later. Apparently, there's a stall that sells DURIAN dim sums somewhere in Damansara. Yum. =) Before I forget, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;-Nic-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-4743638466907882689?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/4743638466907882689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/durian.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4743638466907882689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4743638466907882689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/durian.html' title='Durian.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SuvdvZB8LAI/AAAAAAAAALg/IVWMUf_F_WY/s72-c/shuen.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-8572893936015424480</id><published>2009-10-30T22:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T22:51:55.478+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2 Hours? Wtf.</title><content type='html'>I'll admit it. I'm grateful that my mum taught me how to read the clock when I was young. Apparently, time, now plays an important role in my life. Sometimes, being late is not really a big deal. But when you leave a whole team waiting for you for a long period of time, it's just, ugh. 30 minutes late? I don't really mind. It's excusable. Maybe there was some problem on the way. 1 hour late? I wonder, was the traffic really that bad? So bad that it takes you 1 hour to reach our school? Or did your clock go cuckoo? 2 hours? Okay. Let me guess. You were driving your car across the bridge when you leaned out your window and saw a damsel in distress, thus decided to leave your vehicle, jumped into the sea and save her, only to come ashore and realize that you're all soaked and had to turn home to change into a new set of clothes before coming to see us? Or you just had to save an adorable puppy from the drain and take it to the vet? That doesn't need 2 hours. Or maybe you were on a mission saving the world from destruction, got to the airport late, missed your flight by 2 hours, that's why you're 2 hours late? Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I don't freaking care what your reasons are. Leaving a whole team to wait for you for 2 HOURS? WTF. That's just irresponsible. Instead of going home at 2, we had to stay til 3. Some even had to go to their classes late, and they were still having their exams. They were LATE for their EXAMS. To you, exams may not be a big deal since you're not the one taking it. But to us, every single mark matters. Well, at least, to MOST of us. So what if you're some important person? Being an important person doesn't mean you can make the whole world wait for you. I don't know about you, but just because YOU don't have a life, doesn't mean we don't too. In case you don't know, we have many things to do. And you just wasted an hour of our precious time. There are 2 kinds of clock - classic and digital. If you don't know how to read the classic clock, read the digital. If you dont know how to read the digital clock, ask someone for the time. Or you can ask any of us to teach you how. We really don't mind. It's much better than leaving us waiting there like idiots. I just get really pissed-off with people like YOU. I just hate it when important people think that they're such a big-shot, they can do anything they like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-8572893936015424480?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/8572893936015424480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/2-hours-wtf.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8572893936015424480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/8572893936015424480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/2-hours-wtf.html' title='2 Hours? Wtf.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-3555905669008870892</id><published>2009-10-28T16:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T16:37:21.162+08:00</updated><title type='text'>'Glass' Painting?</title><content type='html'>Went to school yesterday to do some 'glass' painting. Had some fun though my masterpiece looked 'fantastic'. I actually had a much, much, much more better picture in mind when I decided on the design I want. But, it turned out horrible. Shouldn't have listened 100% to the instrustors' advice. Thank goodness I followed the other smarter people and stopped using the water. Sighs. Anyway, when they said glass painting, I thought it was those flat glass wih beautiful patterns or stencils for you to choose from to draw and then paint with those nice colours and you'll have the black outline that feels like rubber when you touch it. But, it wasn't anything like that. We did have the 'glass'. Yes. A hard plastic transparent cup. We did have the 'stencils'. A piece of paper and whiteboard marker. We did have the paint. But there wasn't really enough. And, with all those, I made this.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397561846628799618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Suf95umC1II/AAAAAAAAALI/ArTq6TjyRiI/s400/Image006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Try imagining it with brighter and smoother colours, it would look so much better. Sighs. Then, they taught us something about packaging design. It's not just about designing a package with patterns and stuff, it's also about how you make the package. For example, they taught us how to make one without using any glue or staples or cellophane tape. Just need a piece of paper and scissors/cutter. That was something. Made mine. It turned out okay I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397561854741333602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Suf96M0ORmI/AAAAAAAAALY/UFu5XchA3do/s400/Image004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Couldn't be bothered to decorate mine. I'm just too lazy. Heh. So, yesterday wasn't as boring as the other days cause I had something to keep me busy for at least 5 hours. Yes, I spent 5 hours doing just 2 things. Spent the rest of the time finding something to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397561850657889106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Suf959mp21I/AAAAAAAAALQ/B_dRkanCduw/s400/Image007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Skipped school today. Only went for choir practise in the afternoon. I would have stayed home longer if the sky wasn't so dark. But, in order to avoid going to school soaked, I had to go before it was time. Went to school and saw Mabels' 'I'M WITH STUPID' shirt. It was really funny. One day I'll get one of those. Heh. So, trying to avoid getting soaked. Rubbish. The cuff of my pants and my slippers got wet cause we had to go to the hall. Supposed to be at Taman Herba but since it's raining, oh well, changed venue. My feet was soaking wet. Sighs. Poor Mabel and Shao Jun. They ran in the rain. I squeezed through the crowd. Heh. Not that I'm the 'princess' kind of person, but it's just that I don't wanna get sick. Sis's already sick at home, I don't want to be the next one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Can't wait to go to Pahang!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Suf95fLlDGI/AAAAAAAAALA/OoF6UqwMwZM/s1600-h/Image005.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/8529065901665937340-3555905669008870892?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/3555905669008870892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/glass-painting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3555905669008870892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3555905669008870892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/glass-painting.html' title='&apos;Glass&apos; Painting?'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Suf95umC1II/AAAAAAAAALI/ArTq6TjyRiI/s72-c/Image006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-3834897128940851300</id><published>2009-10-25T21:49:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T22:19:24.101+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Mabel!</title><content type='html'>Here's a belated birthday post to the girl that loves music especially choir so much that she'll probably dedicate her whole life to it if she could. Am I right, Ms. W.P.Q? I'm really sorry for the late wish. Didn't really had much time yesterday (24.10.09) Sorry. Anyway, all of you who knows her, well, know her. And to those of you who &lt;em&gt;don't&lt;/em&gt; know her, get to know her. She's an awesome friend. The friendly, helpful, supportive and whackable kind. Yes. &lt;em&gt;Whackable&lt;/em&gt;. I have no idea how many times I've whacked her out of no reason and yet, she doesn't really seem to mind. I think. You don't, do you? Lol. So, here's to the birthday girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SuRYTnfZBWI/AAAAAAAAAK4/jgl7REsK_B8/s1600-h/1_465064729m%5B1%5D+(108).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396535347538101602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SuRYTnfZBWI/AAAAAAAAAK4/jgl7REsK_B8/s400/1_465064729m%5B1%5D+(108).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The 'mid-wife' who threw a 100 tonne blue rock on the stomach of some 'pregnant' lady. Girl, don't choose that as your career or have anything to do with it. Seriously. Someone could get killed. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;*chokes self dramatically*&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Happy 15th Birthday Mabel!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;  All the best, good luck in everything, and hope you'll meet the love of your life soon. Heh. =D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;  Hope you had a wonderful birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-3834897128940851300?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/3834897128940851300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/happy-birthday-mabel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3834897128940851300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3834897128940851300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/happy-birthday-mabel.html' title='Happy Birthday Mabel!'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SuRYTnfZBWI/AAAAAAAAAK4/jgl7REsK_B8/s72-c/1_465064729m%5B1%5D+(108).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1445625085036530991</id><published>2009-10-22T17:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T18:18:35.767+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bored.</title><content type='html'>Finally went to school today. It was SOOOO BORING. Seriously. 6 hours doing nothing in the hall. How do they do it? I can't stand it. Walked around the school. Walked around the hall. Sing. Jump. Do stupid stuff. I had to do so many things before the school bell finally rang. Ugh. Thanks to those who had to bear with my complainings. I bet I was a real pain in the neck for the last 2 hours. Sorry. I was just so bored. Gah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  How can doing nothing for so many hours make me feel so tired? I'm not even this tired during normal school days. Sighs. I'll be totally exhausted by tonight. Going for a nap now. Bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1445625085036530991?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1445625085036530991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/bored.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1445625085036530991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1445625085036530991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/bored.html' title='Bored.'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-3719042744675397221</id><published>2009-10-20T19:08:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T21:19:43.915+08:00</updated><title type='text'>P&amp;C</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394638302554300562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/St2a9EN3IJI/AAAAAAAAAKY/0pBPrkJieZE/s400/Image035.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;the 2 living things (1 human, the other alien) who gives me stomach cramps almost everyday..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Went over to See Yengs' place today. My first time. Heh. I just realised that I should scratch buisness off my career list. My monopoly skills really suck. Should practise more. So, went over to play. And, I finally got a picture of See Yeng. MUAHAHA. Thanks to my accomplice, The Alien..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394642278407450434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/St2ekfbHr0I/AAAAAAAAAKw/n0DddGTt1XM/s400/Image040.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:78%;color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;yes, The Alien loves Melbourne. people there should watch out..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wished I could've stayed longer. I wasn't done drawing your face yet Ms. Yiow. Draw your face next time, I shall. Heh. Anyway, meet Them..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394638311809634466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/St2a9msgUKI/AAAAAAAAAKg/s24a5uCMtCQ/s400/Image038.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:78%;color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;the Yeng and the Lala..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Stomach's growling, I'm hungry. Off to dinner. Bye.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;-Nic-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-3719042744675397221?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/3719042744675397221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/p.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3719042744675397221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3719042744675397221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/p.html' title='P&amp;C'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/St2a9EN3IJI/AAAAAAAAAKY/0pBPrkJieZE/s72-c/Image035.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-9213393892131602960</id><published>2009-10-16T17:17:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T17:57:16.768+08:00</updated><title type='text'>lalaa</title><content type='html'>Short update. Skipped school yesterday cause I sorta woke up late. Got my report card from Meera, and my results were completely heartbreaking. When I opened the book, I was like WHOAH. Seriously? Ugh. I should really change my attitude and pay more attention to my studies now. Like Pn Wong said, &lt;em&gt;"Form 4 is not a honeymoon year, you know?"&lt;/em&gt; Yeah. The same thing my mum said to me a dozen times before PMR. =.=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, I can't wait til PMR results are out. (yeah right, I just can't wait to kill myself =.=) It'll probably be the 'best' christmas present ever. Ugh. Going out with mum to search for furnitures later. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-9213393892131602960?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/9213393892131602960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/lalaa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/9213393892131602960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/9213393892131602960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/lalaa.html' title='lalaa'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6267359981198533577</id><published>2009-10-13T16:18:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T18:18:53.866+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Free At Last</title><content type='html'>Ah, finally. PMR's over. And I actually managed to not blog for more than 2 weeks. Heh. Anyway, if I do get more than 5 A's for PMR, it'll be a miracle then. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, besides studying (yes, I actually did study A LITTLE BIT) for the past 2 weeks, I did many other stuff. Really really stupid stuff, well, some of them at least. Yeah, I have a problem focusing on my studies. I can't just sit still for 30 minutes and study if I'm at home. I really have trouble with that. Besides studying, I talked to my dogs. Yes, I was that bored. I actually ranted all my problems to them, since they can't talk and give away my secrets. Unfortunately, they found me boring and left me in less than 10 minutes. Yes. 2 little pigs went off and sleep. So, Ms. Boring here attempted to study with nature. Sat under mum's tomyam tree to read. Ended up doing something really really stupid. Guess what? I licked a leaf out of no reason. I don't know why. I actually sniffed it, and unconcious of what I'm doing, I just licked it. Yes. I'm a weirdo. Overstressed? Don't think so. I didn't really spend that much time studying. So, my guess is that I'm weird. Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh yea, I also spent more time playing the guitar instead of practicing my piano. Teacher's so gonna freak out when she see's me this week. All my technique, gone. So, guitar. Abandoned my poor darling for a few months cause I was frustrated. I couldn't play the chords and my fingers hurt. So I just left it in the corner. Started playing with it cause I was really bored. Ended up addicted to it. I actually spent so much time torturing my fingers with those guitar chords. I'm not even going for lessons yet and there's already blisters on my hand. Can't imagine what could happen if I really start going for lessons. I might have to amputate my fingers. Gosh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  By the way, did I mention that I lost my grade 7 practical cert? Yes. Stupid here lost it. I don't even know when. Was randomly arranging my stuff when I noticed that it was gone. Ugh. Of all the certs, why grade 7? Why can't it be grade 1-5? I worked so hard to earn it and now it's gone. Argh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyhoo, created a few more accounts because I was really bored. I now have a MySpace, Twitter and Winxclub account. I know, I know, go ahead and laugh. Winxclub account indeed. I was really bored la kay? I had to do SOMETHING. So there. And, so many people's into twitter and myspace, so, yeah. I joined them too. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Recently realized that song-writing IS interesting. It helps you to express your feelings and everything. Yeah. It's amazing. Love it. Also, I created another signature during the exams. I know I've changed my signature many times since primary, but I think I'm gonna settle for this one. Really. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I can't wait to go out. I'm desperate. I actually wanted to go out with the family to Summit last Saturday since sis joined the art competition. But ended up staying home alone to study. Well, my plans to study failed 70%. At least I studied a lil'. Gosh. There's so many things I want to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Swimming&lt;br /&gt;-Skating&lt;br /&gt;-Shopping&lt;br /&gt;-Movies&lt;br /&gt;-Visiting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Ahhh! I can't wait to go out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6267359981198533577?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6267359981198533577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/free-at-last.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6267359981198533577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6267359981198533577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/10/free-at-last.html' title='Free At Last'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-5576483457085393479</id><published>2009-09-26T00:26:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T15:15:09.408+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love You Miss Mary. =D</title><content type='html'>Pmr's in less than 2 weeks. This will probably be my last post until the freaking exam's over. I still can't get my maths right. Stupid formulas and stuff. I just don't get it. Ugh. Why can't everything be easier? Like, Pythagoras Theorem? That's wayyy easier than stupid Indices. I just hope I won't fail. Sighs. I'm starting to prefer Geo over History. I don't know why. I just can't get any of those stories into my head. Me and my weird + lousy memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, got my practical results today right after tuition. That's probably the only thing that made my week. I got my D after all. Thanks teacher, you're the best. Oh, and I love you Miss Mary. Your creepy smile wasn't so creepy after all. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  To all those taking their exams, good luck! All the best people. =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-5576483457085393479?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/5576483457085393479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-love-you-miss-mary-d.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5576483457085393479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/5576483457085393479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-love-you-miss-mary-d.html' title='I Love You Miss Mary. =D'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-4436078473719639218</id><published>2009-09-20T00:11:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T00:28:40.819+08:00</updated><title type='text'>7 Hours of Torture</title><content type='html'>Ah, finally back in something-close-to-mum's-hometown. Yeah, not in Penang, YET, I hope. I can't wait to go there. Anyway, am in Juru now, uncle's house. Grandma's celebrating here birthday here. If I'm not mistaken, she's 87 or 88 now, I think. She can't even remember it herself. I hope I won't forget mine. Sighs. The future is so unpredictable. Anyway, cousin sis was so kinda to lend me her laptop, heh. I'll probably be rotting now, since there's nothing much to do. I'm really turning into a potato couch. Been eating and watching movies eversince we arrived. By the way, did I mention that we were stuck on the road for 7 hours? Yeah, amazing ain't it? It usually takes 4 hours to reach Penang, Juru is nearer, so around 2-3 hours, but we took 7. I think that's long enough to reach Kedah, right? Sitting in the car for 7 hours was killing me. We did stop at rest houses for the toilet, but still, my legs were aching. And, sitting on the seat for 7 hours makes your ass big, fat and FLAT. Ugh, stupid jam. Seriously, all along the road, there were like, at least more than 5 accidents. Either the car ran into another or the engines dead. Either way, knowing the usual Malaysians who are always nosy, everyone stopped or slowed down their cars just to look at those who were in trouble. Which is why the jam was horrible. Freaking annoying. I mean, it's not your car that's invloved, so if you're going to help them, then it's okay, stop your car and go to them. But if you're not, for goodness sake, just mind your own buisness and move on! Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, to all Muslims out there, Selamat Hari Raya! Hope you all are having fun. Many people already balik kampung. KL is so quiet now. There were like, only a few cars on the road when mum took me to tuition on friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I'm stuffed. I think I over ate. Seriously. Imagine a bloated potato sitting on the couch. Yeah, that's me. Oh, we lef Belle at home. I miss her already. We only brought Twinkle along this time cause there was not enough space in the car. Cousin bro and sis were travelling with us. So, yeah. Sorry Belle. It was really sad watching her cry when we left. It's like she knew that we were gonna leave, but not knowing that we're leaving without her. Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Exams's right after school reopens. And, dumbass here forgotten to bring her revision books with her. Either my brain hate me, or my memory's failing me. Whichever, I'm doomed. I wonder how do they do it. Being perfect in almost anything and everything. I left my piano books at home too. Sobs. Seriously have to find something to do. I wonder if I can go shopping? Or visit Penang..maybe, yeah. Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh, today's also Soo Yin's birthday. Happy Birthday girl! Looking forward to see you again next year. I had no idea that you joined the competitions too. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-4436078473719639218?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/4436078473719639218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/7-hours-of-torture.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4436078473719639218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/4436078473719639218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/7-hours-of-torture.html' title='7 Hours of Torture'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1901918805562235180</id><published>2009-09-15T14:18:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T16:03:58.126+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;  Here's an early birthday post to this friend of mine. She's an amazing person. Seriously. We were classmates back then in primary, and though we're in different schools now, we still have one hell of a time when ALL of us go out together. There's always things to talk and laugh about when she's there. We became close friends in std 3, I think, or was it std 4? I still remember that 'would you like to have recess with us' written on the timetable thing. That's how we all started. She's always been the kind of person who knows how to blend in and cheer people up. The crazy and fun person who does crazy things till you laugh like a mad cow, and also the mature and caring one. Yea, she's always been mature. Also the stubborn one I guess. One of the most determined and strong person I've ever met. That's why I love you so much. I can't stand people who are too much of a baby, if you get what I mean. Well, it's good to be crazy and act like you're not your age once in a while, but, whatever your age is, You've still got to act it, right? She's always been one of those people I love hanging out with most. I don't know bout the future, I ain't psychic. But, no matter what happens, I just want you to know that I'll always remember you. Even when I do get abducted by aliens, I'll still have a picture of you in my wallet, which follows me everywhere I go. Yes. All 5 of us are in the picture. That's one of my favourite pictures, in fact, most treasured ones. Here's to the crazy, unpredictable, fun, loving, caring, stubborn, funny, determined, mature-yet-sometimes-kiddy (the list goes on) wonderful friend..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381594638633098562" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Sq9Dz5jfXUI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/2FJ6cEzgewc/s400/Camera+1897.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;  Happy 15th Birthday Wong Yoke Lin!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;  You've certainly grown alot, in a good way. From the not-so-nerdy kid you were back then in primary, you've grown into the beautiful young lady you are today. Seriously, I'm not lying. When mum saw our gathering picture, she was like 'wow, that's yokelin? she's beautiful..' and sis was saying 'jie, yokelin so pretty already ah? is she taller than you now?' Sighs. Yes, you're taller than me now I guess. Last time I saw you, we were about the same height. So, you SHOULD be taller now. =)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;  Ah, time flies. You're fifteen already. Amazing. I can't wait til we all get our driving licence. We'll get to go out more often, right? Anyway, thanks for being the awesome friend you are. I love you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;  Next, you guys should really watch these videos on youtube. 'College Musical' An original musical production by some students. Everything was done by themselves, including the songs, music, script, directing..etc. They're amazing and seriously talented, especially that Sam Tsui guy. His voice is amazing. Go watch their videos. And his friend, Kurt Schneider, is a genius. They're awesome. Go watch.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;-Nic-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1901918805562235180?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1901918805562235180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/heres-early-birthday-post-to-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1901918805562235180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1901918805562235180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/heres-early-birthday-post-to-this.html' title=''/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/Sq9Dz5jfXUI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/2FJ6cEzgewc/s72-c/Camera+1897.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-2404802106944858536</id><published>2009-09-05T22:52:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T01:05:20.616+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Choir Party</title><content type='html'>Just came back from the choir party. It was awesome. I totally enjoyed it. Food was great, though the drinks were too much. Yeah, we thought that there won't be enough drinks, so MANY people brought drinks. And we ended up with a whole bunch of them. Lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh, we played some games too. You should have seen them playing. It was damn hilarious! Some people took a video of it, I'm not sure if it'll be available. But, anyhoo, I'll post it up if I can find it. And, I'm also waiting for photos from Yi Shuen. So, I'll upload them when I have the time. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Feeling darn tired now. I managed to fall asleep around 2 something I guess. The last time I looked at the clock before my eyes closed was 2.14am. Woke up at 5.38am. Couldn't sleep well since then. I kept waking up every hour. Finally got out of bed around 8 something. Breakfast, piano practise, then choir. Went straight for piano lessons after that. That was my last lesson, at least til PMR's over. Sigh. I'm gonna miss going there so much. I wanna see Hannah! Sobs. That baby's been growing so fast. She's super adorable. If I ever have a daughter, I wish she'll be just like her. Well, not exactly the same, but something like that. I don't have a picture of her though, too bad. =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-2404802106944858536?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/2404802106944858536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/choir-party.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2404802106944858536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2404802106944858536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/choir-party.html' title='Choir Party'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1764047723279002506</id><published>2009-09-04T17:41:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T18:47:03.974+08:00</updated><title type='text'>-</title><content type='html'>Short update. Skipped school today. Heh. Anyway, went for choir in the afternoon. It was okay I guess. Kinda enjoyed today's practise. And we have a few more new members. *smiles* Anyone else interested in joining?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Can't wait for tomorrow's party! =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1764047723279002506?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1764047723279002506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1764047723279002506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1764047723279002506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html' title='-'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-6926322453526407726</id><published>2009-09-02T17:57:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T18:42:32.944+08:00</updated><title type='text'>If I Could Be Drunk</title><content type='html'>At times like this, I really wish that there's something I could do to make myself feel better. Not that I deserve it anyway. But honestly, I'm a failure. I'm really disappointed with myself. You know, most people usually just drink and drink and DRINK til they're completely drunk and puke. They don't even care about what they're doing. They don't even know what they're doing. I don't think they even notice anything around them anymore after they're drunk. I have to admit it, I kinda admire these people sometimes. They're brave enough to get so drunked that they can embarass themselves infront of millions of people and not know or give a damn thought about it. Though, I hate people who drink like there's no tomorrow. I hate drinkers. Well, maybe not hate, dislike, perhaps? But the point, at least they have something to drown their sorrows in. I have nothing. Piano doesn't really work that much for me anymore. It still helps, most of the time. When I can slam and play whatever I feel like playing. How I feel, my hands play it. Unfortunately, I can only do that when there's nobody else at home besides me or my sis. She doesn't know what I'm playing, so who cares. She thinks that it's one of my new pieces everytime I play a different song. Which is a good thing. At least she won't go running off telling mum that something's wrong with me. Guitar doesn't help much. I'll probably end up breaking some strings and owe my mum a HUGE explanation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Call me crazy, but I do wish there's some liqour for me to drink now. Too bad, there's only dad's Stout and my Shandy. I don't really like drinking beer. They taste really horrible. I don't know why people like them so much. Drunkards drink beer when they're sad. I wonder why. Does drowning your sorrow and bitterness with bitter beer really make you feel better? At least Shandy has lemon in it. And now they have more flavours. I currently have raspberry, peach and lemon flavour in the fridge. But those can make me forget anything. They just taste nice, that's all. I drink them for fun. It's not like they really cause any problems to my health, besides the fact that there's less than 1% of alcohol in it. Mum said I got drunk when I was still small because I drank too much beer. I only remembered drinking a few sips from the uncle's cans during CNY. I definitely don't remember getting drunk. Besides, how can a kid who still attends kindy get drunk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  To make things worse, I still have to put on a happy face tonight during ballet. Sighs. I can't really blame anyone. Really. It's all my fault. I'm the one who didn't make an effort to do anything. I'm the one who made what I am today. I'm the one who made the lazy ass I am today. I guess I should really start to study now. Hah. How many times have you all heard me say that? Ten? Twenty? Hundred? Thousand? I don't know either. I keep saying it, but I never do it. I wonder what's wrong with me. I wasn't like this. I used to be a better student. I used to do all my school work and hand it in on time. Well, not always. But I do get them done and give it to teacher either on the exact date or a few days later. Not more than a couple of days I think. Maybe the teachers in primary were more strict. Maybe that's why I used to be good. Honestly, I'm not improving. I'm getting worse. Even my chinese was much better back then in primary. Now, it's just, blargh. All my essays are just like a piece of shit. They don't make any sense. The words are full of mistakes. Heck, I'm doing mistakes that I don't do when I was younger. I make more and more mistakes now. I've forgotten everything I've learnt. Even my english's getting worse, especially my paper 2. What a disappoitment I am. Sighs. I'm hopeless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-6926322453526407726?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/6926322453526407726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/if-i-could-be-drunk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6926322453526407726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/6926322453526407726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/if-i-could-be-drunk.html' title='If I Could Be Drunk'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-2097273957075713734</id><published>2009-09-01T15:43:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T16:16:51.663+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aliens</title><content type='html'>We were literally pissed off this morning. At least I was. First, you say that we have to perform today for the Merdeka thingi, which is already kinda late. All the other schools already celebrated theirs BEFORE the holiday. You all wanted to have it today instead. Then, when we're already in school, you tell us that all the performances are cancelled. Why? Because you didn't get the letter from the government. I had to wake up earlier so that I have enough time to apply my make up. After putting on my costume and heels and stuff, after reaching school for barely 5 minutes, you tell us it's off. At least those in the morning session still have classes to attend to. But, the afternoon students? Most of them have no transport. So, they had to stay back until evening, which is the end of their session. I seriously hate these people. What are we? Your chess piece? You say go means go, stop means stop. We practised before the holidays and got ready for today, and you just come and tell us there's nothing today. You could've at least told us on the last day of school before the hols, right? Why wait til today to tell us? That's like, super-duper last minute. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Chuen showed us the news bout the baby alien thingi in Mexico. I didn't know there were such stuff til she told me. Anyway, I told my dad, and he said I'm talking rubbish. And that chinese newspapers are always publishing all these weird stuff to gain attention. Whatever. So, I Googled it on the net, and, tadaa! Here's your baby alien.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 254px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376401978223579058" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SpzRHSG5T7I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/jw8-X8eMPTI/s400/alien1.jpg" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://momento24.com/en/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/alien1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The news were given by Television Station of Mexico. Apparently, they found a trap for animals with an alive “baby alien”. And that’s not all, an UFO expert said: “I dare say that these photos are authentic.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jaime Maussan, host star and UFOs expert, exhibited the pictures portraying the discovered baby alien on his TV program and confirmed it was all true.&lt;br /&gt;The report goes on: “Farm workers were terrified and drowned the baby alien in the water. The creature struggled, his body shaked and it screamed for help. The peasants made 3 attempts and forced it in the water for several hours. Finally, the alien baby drowned. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 310px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 270px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376401990420215554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SpzRH_izNwI/AAAAAAAAAKA/uovmOyfyN6c/s400/alien2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the story does not end here, it was recently known that the farmer who found and drowned the baby alien in Mexico, known there as “The Being of Metepec”, Marao Lopez, was found dead. And of course his death seems to be mysterious …&lt;br /&gt;Lopez appeared burnt inside his car, parked alongside a road. His body was completely charred. He says the car took fire at temperatures higher than normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://momento24.com/en/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/alien3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 331px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 270px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376401992620332002" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SpzRIHvWU-I/AAAAAAAAAKI/4bKWPQcBtzY/s400/alien3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This would not be the first case. There are reports and eyewitness of aliens and UFOs that shortly after died,” said German UFO expert Hartwig Hausdorf. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The deep grief in those baby’s parents would have filled them with revenge. If even animals react like that in a dangerous situation … it’s even more likely in beings who may excel us technologically."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His widow assures Lopez “was killed by aliens …”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;See, Dad? THIS is definitely not in chinese, it's ENGLISH. And, it's from the net. What? English papers also want to gain attention by posting it on the net, is it? Heh. Anyway, it's kinda sad that they killed it. I mean, hello? How often do you get to see a real alien that's still alive? You could have at least tried to communicate with it, right? Find out where they've been living, how do they survive out there, are they really super geniuses because of their big brains, what do they eat..etc etc. If I really get the chance to meet one, I would have tried to be friends with it instead of killing it. It's still a baby, of course it'll scream la. When you're still a baby and you get hungry, you'll scream or cry for food right? So just give it some food la. Why kill it? Sighs. Poor baby. Anyway, I don't know if it's true or not. It looks kinda real to me, but at the same time, kinda unbelievable. You guys can google it if you want to know more. Aliens. Wow. Maybe my wish might come true. I'll float into outer space after I'm dead. Hopefully get discovered by the aliens. Hopefully they'll bring me back to life, not have me as their dinner. What do they eat anyway? And, I'll get a member card to join their dance club. =)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, aliens. Believe it or not, it's up to you. I'm not sure myself either. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Nic-&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/8529065901665937340-2097273957075713734?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/2097273957075713734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/aliens.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2097273957075713734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2097273957075713734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/09/aliens.html' title='Aliens'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SpzRHSG5T7I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/jw8-X8eMPTI/s72-c/alien1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-2182794119719612701</id><published>2009-08-31T22:28:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T22:45:51.857+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Footsteps On My Guitar</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376138515013280162" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SpvhftKpoaI/AAAAAAAAAJw/sN2C9GEe5tI/s400/It%27s+a+long+way+up+but+i%27ll+manage+it...jpg" /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;yeah, that's my baby =)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;  School's starting tomorrow. And, there'll be some performance for the late Merdeka celebration. Which means more make-up for me, AGAIN. Ugh. Hate it. And with that air ventilationless costume, worse. Sighs. I'll just have to learn how to cope with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, just came back from aunt's house. I think I might have found my own guitar teacher. Heh. Will tell you who he is when I officially start learning, after PMR. But my fingers do hurt, now. Cause busybody here couldn't keep her hands to herself and kept playing with the guitar. Thank God it was an electric guitar. If it was an acoustic one, my fingers probably need some bandaging right now. And I thought that my blister days were over. Hah. On the bright side, I finaly know what power chords are. And I've learnt a few more chords. So, I guess the blisters are kinda worth it. Hey, no pain, no gain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Ah, I gotta start getting ready for school tomorrow. My bag needs packing, uniform needs ironing, so does the costume. Oh yea, Happy Merdeka everyone! Malaysia's finally 52 years old. Hah. I'm so much more younger than that. Smiles! =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-2182794119719612701?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/2182794119719612701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/footsteps-on-my-guitar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2182794119719612701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/2182794119719612701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/footsteps-on-my-guitar.html' title='Footsteps On My Guitar'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SpvhftKpoaI/AAAAAAAAAJw/sN2C9GEe5tI/s72-c/It%27s+a+long+way+up+but+i%27ll+manage+it...jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7729242079410471055</id><published>2009-08-29T22:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T00:24:29.698+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Idiots</title><content type='html'>One thing's for sure, I'm hating those robbers more and more each day. How many lives were gone just because some heartless people barged into some people's house, stole their stuff, AND stole their precious lives. The hell, it's already bad enough that you're stealing from them. Just leave. But, &lt;em&gt;nooo&lt;/em&gt;. Those heartless people had to kill their victims. For what? To stop them from lodging a police report? To stop them from identifying you on the streets and dragging you to the police station? Puh-lease. People get terrified when their robbed. They panic and get scared. Do you seriously think they'll hunt for you and bring you to justice? All they'll do is just call the cops to let them know that there was a burglary. It's up to the cops to hunt you or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Thursday night. I don't know was it a coincidence or was it meant to be. Mum was going to Giant after dropping sis at tuition. Anyway, there was this pair of shorts that I wanted to exchange. At first, I just gave it to mum and asked her to help me do it. I was rather lazy and felt like staying home. But after some time, just as they were going out the door, I changed my mind and decided to join them instead. If I had stayed at home, I don't know what would have happened. Maybe I'd have a chance to stab the stupid robber with the butcher 's knife? I don't know. But I was safe cause I went out with mum. And, with so many cases of thieves entering your houses from the roof, I'm starting to develope a habit of looking at the ceiling each time I go upstairs. Mind you, the part of the ceiling that can be opened is right infront of the stairs, right infront of the toilet, RIGHT INFRONT OF MY ROOM. If some idiot was to enter my house from the roof, I'd be doomed. I hate these people. If you're really that desperate for money, go get a job la. I know that the economy's bad, thousands and thousands of people are losing their jobs. But still, there's always a way to settle whatever financial problems you have. That doesn't mean you have to borrow money from the loan sharks tho. Only idiots would do that. You already know the consequences of getting money from those loan sharks, and you still wanna do it? There's a whole bunch of examples out there in the world. If after seeing all these and you still do it, then you're really an idiot. But, stealing? Robbing? That's too much. And the killing too. Whatever reasons these idiots have, it's still not right. I don't see people from other families I know going around robbing other innocent people. I've never had the thought of stealing when I'm short of money. Why should you steal then? How would you like it if I, somebody you don't even know, came to your house in the middle of the night and steal your stuff? Would you like it? I bet you don't. Well, we don't like it either. It messes up our peaceful lives. And, those who are stealing just because you need some money to buy cigarettes or drugs, go to hell. You're all a bunch of heartless, selfish, brainless, cold-blooded, idiotic morons who have no respect and compassion for others and yourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Gosh, what's wrong with me? Cursing others again. Gah. Oh yea, I just so happened to come across this on the net.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;em&gt;"He broke his left arm and cracked his skull three times, broke his nose while playing rugby union, broke his right leg skiing in Switzerland, broke his left leg in a motorbike crash, broke his right wrist while snowboarding. He also broke his back when he slipped trying to reach a roof terrace of a friend's house and fell three floors."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Guess who? Orlando Bloom. A total of at least 9 breaks and he's still so alive. Amazing. I wonder how many times I can break myself and survive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7729242079410471055?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7729242079410471055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/idiots.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7729242079410471055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7729242079410471055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/idiots.html' title='Idiots'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1468593681711144101</id><published>2009-08-27T17:41:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T18:33:59.439+08:00</updated><title type='text'>VJ</title><content type='html'>I really feel like hauling a whole bunch of curses at myself for doing so 'well' in my exam yesterday. I totally bombed it. It was like, throwing a nuclear bomb in the examination room. Ugh. I don't know what to say to my teacher now. Worse still, I have to face her tomorrow. I should probably bomb myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevermind, what's done is done. Forget about it. I'll start crying over it when the results are out. Anyway, today's a very special day to a crazy new friend of mine whom I met this year..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374576936127211730" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SpZVP2feqNI/AAAAAAAAAJg/oUHR5I-o86c/s400/1_465064729m%5B1%5D+(99).jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;HAPPY 14th BIRTHDAY NG VI JIA!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;See that picture? (Vi Jia please don't kill me, kay? Love ya =D) That's a picture of her and her ex-boyfan. Yea, boyfan. I don't have any speeching problem. Let me introduce all of you to the used-to-be happy couple. One day during our Footloose practise, Vi Jia was busy day-dreaming instead of paying attention to Nicole's crap. All of a sudden, Vi Jia felt a cool and gentle breeze blowing from her back. She slowly turned her head, and voila, Panasonic was there. It was love at first sight. Vi Jia and Panasonic fell in love immediately. Since then, both of them could not be separated. Vi Jia would not let anyone go near her darling boyfan, and Panasonic would only give out cool air for Vi Jia. Mind you, it was really hot and stuffy hiding at the corner all the time. On their very first date, which was the day they both met, Vi Jia gave Panasonic his very first kiss. Seriously, I'm not lying. I have proof! Look at the picture above. Heh. But, unfortunately, a few days later (or was it the next day?), Panasonic could function no more. He was dead. Doctor Nicole treated him and confirmed that he died of a heart attack. The cause of it was not sure, but she suspects that it was Vi Jia's kiss that triggered the attack. Ah, the kiss of death. Lol. Okay, cut the crap. Here's a more decent picture of our darling pianist.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374576946542313506" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SpZVQdSogCI/AAAAAAAAAJo/vDy2F9V-h7Q/s400/1_465064729m%5B1%5D+(15).jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Pretty, right? After you block out Wei Qin the spoiler behind there, it's purrfecto. Right? Heh. Yea, so this is our beautiful pianist with the sadly abused but beautiful grand piano. Vi Jia, I seriously envy you. You always have that professional and sweet look in all your photos, especially those with the piano. Seriously. Look at the picture above, and the picture in the footloose programs book. People would've thought that you're some professional young pianist. Anyway, today's your special day. Wishing you all the best in the future (which includes your studies, your career, your school stuff and other stuff, and oh, not forgetting, your love life. Heh.) Once again, Happy Birthday! =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;-Nic-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1468593681711144101?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1468593681711144101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/vj.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1468593681711144101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1468593681711144101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/vj.html' title='VJ'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SpZVP2feqNI/AAAAAAAAAJg/oUHR5I-o86c/s72-c/1_465064729m%5B1%5D+(99).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-586114210984816852</id><published>2009-08-24T21:43:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T21:59:01.184+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shopping. =)</title><content type='html'>Went blouse-hunting yesterday. Yes. I was hunting for a blouse. White one. Practical exam's this wednesday, which is 2 days for now, and my scales are so not ready yet. Sighs. I guess I won't be getting my D after all. Anyway, mum thinks that not a single piece of clothing in my cupboard is 'decent' enough for a practical exam. Well, there is one actually. My favourite brown skirt which I'll be wearing on that day. But, there's nothing to go with it. Well, I do have a few blouses that I could wear with the skirt, but, mum thinks that they're not decent. Wth. FYI, those blouses are very sweet and pretty and they're definitely decent enough la kay. She makes it sound like my whole cupboard is full of nothing but clothes that are full of rat bitten holes. So, nevermind. Mum wants me to get a new blouse, I'll get one. It doesn't hurt to buy a new blouse right? But, you know what really made me mad when I was shopping? If my favourite blue blouse didn't have that stain from who-knows-where, I would have worn it with my skirt. Ugh. Stupid stain. I still want my blouse back. Sobs. Anyway, back to the shopping. After trying a few clothes, I finally found one that is nice to me and decent enough that mum agreed to buy it. It's kinda nice tho. White and sweet with a lil' classical look in it. Not that old-fashioned of course, I can still wear it with my jeans when I go shopping next time. But, the best part ws, I finally got to go out and shop. The last time I went shopping was like, once upon a time. And, cause of the virus, mum wouldn't let me go out with my friends. I was dying to go shopping. Yesterday was great. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Ah, 2 more days. I'm so dead. I can't believe I actually spent almost one hour sitting there practising my E minor arpeggios in root, 1st and 2nd position. Not like it did any good. They're still as horrible as the day I first learnt them. One hour for only one key in three positions. After I finished that key, I just shut the piano and started messing with sis's rubiks cube. I couldn't take it anymore. But, still had to resume practise in the evening. I didn't even start on my pieces. Oh, by the way, I almost ruined the cube. I swear, just a slight turn and it would have burst into pieces. Thank God I left it there. I destroyed my very first cube years ago in Penang, and now I almost spoiled Nad's. She would have killed me if it was broken. Sighs. Last lesson with teacher tomorrow before exam. My aural still sucks. Scales and aural. What a torture. Oh, I just remembered, the last time I really did any sight-reading was weeks ago. Great. Just great. I'm definitely gonna flunk this time. Sighs. Wish me luck. =) Bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-586114210984816852?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/586114210984816852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/shopping.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/586114210984816852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/586114210984816852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/shopping.html' title='Shopping. =)'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-711332025606423923</id><published>2009-08-22T20:37:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T21:49:11.972+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Movie Marathon</title><content type='html'>Finally went for choir today after missing so many practises. So, mum allowed me to go to the choir year-end party. Yay! But, I'm gonna have to find someone to get me there and back. Mum won't be free. Nad's going for her operation soon, so, yeah. Lotsa stuff to take care of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, I'm sorta turning into a movie freak now. I'm like, searching for movies to watch everyday. Cousin bro just brought some movis for us to watch. Night at the Museum 2. I know,  I'm kinda out-dated. Now only watch the movie after it's been out for so long. But, hey, I didn't had the time. In fact, I have a whole list of movies that I want to watch. Ah, movies. I'll probably go on a movie marathon this hols. There's just so many movies to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Ah, gtg now. I'm gonna focus watching the movie. It's damn funny. After the horrible stomach cramps I've been having for the whole day, I think it's just going to get much more worse. Thanks to the movie. Sighs. But, it's worth watching. A lil' pain's nothing I guess. Bye bye people. I wanna watch my movie now. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-711332025606423923?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/711332025606423923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/movie-marathon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/711332025606423923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/711332025606423923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/movie-marathon.html' title='Movie Marathon'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-3988882322673013751</id><published>2009-08-20T23:13:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T00:54:08.381+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Movie</title><content type='html'>Ah, staying home is kinda boring. I feel like going to school tomorrow. But the thought of having to see some teachers that I don't like and getting my horrible results makes me want to stay at home. Ah. I miss my friends. I want to see them so much. Holidays are starting soon. I won't get to see them til after more than a week. Sighs. Maybe I'll just sneak in during recess to have a lil' chat with them. Okay, now sneak in. I do have to hand in some stuff. So, yeah. Most probably going during recess. Sighs. I'm feeling so lazy nowadays. I miss everyone. Especially my old friends. And, oh oh oh! I wanna watch this movie! I wanna watch Orphan! Watched the trailer just now. It looks kinda interesting. No, wait, it IS interesting. Read this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Kate (Vera Farmiga) and John Coleman (Peter Sarsgaard) are experiencing strains in their marriage after Kate's third child - "Jessica" - was stillborn. The loss is particularly hard on Kate, who is still recovering from a drinking habit that cost her her job. As a coping mechanism she has scattered Jessica's ashes in their garden around a white rose bush, with a plaque to remember her by.They adopt Esther (Isabelle Fuhrman), a 9-year-old Russian girl they had met, from the local orphanage. While Kate and John's deaf-mute daughter Max (Aryana Engineer) embraces Esther almost immediately, their son Daniel (Jimmy Bennett) is less welcoming. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Kate grows suspicious when Esther, who watched Kate and John have sex, expresses far more knowledge of sex and its slang than would be expected for a child her age. Not long after Esther arrives, she pushes a schoolmate down a playground slide, who had picked on her, breaking her ankle. Max saw Esther shove the girl, but covers for Esther by saying that the girl "slipped". However, she is further alarmed when Sister Abigail (CCH Pounder), the head of the orphanage, warns her and John about Esther's tendency to be around when things go wrong. Esther overhears this and later kills Sister Abigail with a hammer to the head. She convinces Max (puts a gun to her head) to help her hide the body and the hammer. Daniel sees Esther and Max descending from his treehouse from behind a rock, not knowing they hid the hammer there. Later that night, Esther threatens to cut off Daniel's "hairless little prick before he knows what its used for" if he tells anyone what he saw.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Kate is told by the orphanage that they cannot find any record of the Russian orphanage Esther came from. However, John does not believe her, despite continued ominous behavior by Esther. That night, Esther deliberately picks flowers for Kate that are from Jessica's plant and Kate pushes her to the ground. Later, Esther breaks her own arm in John's vice and convinces John that Kate broke it in the scuffle from earlier. On Esther's first day back at school, she slips Kate's SUV into neutral, nearly killing Max. Badly shaken, Kate buys two bottles of wine, but at the last minute pours one of them down the drain and leaves the other full.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Kate learns that Esther was housed at a mental institution in Estonia called the Saarne Institute, but when she expresses misgivings to John, he and her counselor think that Kate is relapsing into her drinking habit. After John produces the other bottle Kate bought the night before, he threatens to leave her unless she gets help.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Daniel learns of the hammer from Max and decides to get it and go to the police. However, Esther sets the treehouse on fire, intending to get rid of the evidence and kill Daniel. Daniel escapes by falling out of the tree, and gets a severe neck injury. Esther tries to finish him off by smashing a brick over his head, but Max shoves her out of the way just in time. Esther again tries to kill him at the hospital by smothering him with a pillow. As doctors rush to save Daniel, Kate angrily knocks Esther down for doing that and is sedated by doctors.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  That night, Esther tries to seduce a drunk and sad John. John realizes Kate was telling the truth all along and threatens to call the orphanage. Esther, angry at being spurned, ransacks her room and later stabs John to death. Max witnesses this and hides in her laundry hamper.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  As Kate is coming out of sedation, she gets a call from the Saarne Institute's director, Dr. Värava (Karel Roden), who reveals that Esther isn't a 9-year-old girl at all, but a 33-year-old woman named Leena Klammer. She has hypopituitarism, a disorder that stunted her physical growth, and has spent most of her life posing as a little girl. The doctor tells Kate that Esther is dangerously psychotic, and Kate should rush home to her family. Kate rushes home, where Esther shoots her in the arm before searching for Max.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Their chase takes them outside to a frozen pond, where Kate and Esther struggle before falling through broken ice from the knife Esther tried to stab Kate with. Kate crawls out of the hole, followed by Esther, who begs for her life, addressing Kate as "Mommy". Kate angrily responds that she is not her mother and kicks Esther in the face, breaking her neck and sending her back into the pond to drown.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  A movie with that has drama, horror, mysteries and gives us the thrills. Ah, I wanna watch! Too bad though, it starts showing in Malaysia on the 3rd of September. Sighs. Mum won't be free to bring me anywhere. Not that she would allow anyway with the stupid flu killing people out there. Sobs. I guess I'll just have to wait for the dvd. Sighs. Kor! I want! I want! I want!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh yea, watched World Trade Center on HBO (I think) just now. It's really sad. Nad and I were practically crying and staining the sleeves of our shirt with salt water. It's really sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;em&gt;The true story of Port Authority police officers John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno, who, while patrolling the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Midtown Manhattan, see a plane fly low overhead.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  As all of the police officers return to the station, they see the TV, and find that the North Tower of the World Trade Center has been hit by a plane. Sergeant McLoughlin assigns many of the officers to assist in an evacuation attempt of the (still undamaged) South Tower, and they board a commandeered Metropolitan Transit Authority bus. On the bus they hear reports that the South Tower has also been hit.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  When they arrive at the site of the World Trade Center, they see many disturbing things, including one of the first victims jumping out of the tower to their death. As Jimeno drops off their police equipment in 5 World Trade Center, officers proceed to get safety equipment and walk into the concourse of the towers. The group consists of McLoughlin, Jimeno, Dominick Pezzulo, and Antonio Rodrigues.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  An officer, named Chris Amoroso, runs along to tell them of the other events such as the Pentagon being hit by what they believed to be a missile, and the South Tower being hit by another plane. The group does not believe that the South Tower has been hit. As the group prepares to enter the North Tower, the buildings begin to rumble. Looking around, McLoughlin realizes that the South Tower is collapsing onto them, and their only chance of survival is to run into the service elevator shaft. Chris trips and doesn't have time to get up. Rodrigues isn't able to get to the shaft in time. McLoughlin, Jimeno and Pezzulo manage to escape the huge amounts of dust and rubble flying down from the South Tower. But as the rubble continues to crush the elevator shaft, the three are knocked out.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  As the group wakes up, Pezzulo realizes he can free himself, and manages to go nearer to Jimeno in the rubble, who, along with McLoughlin, have survived the collapse of the South Tower. As Pezzulo becomes optimistic that they will live, the rumbling starts up again, as the North Tower is now collapsing as well. Although Jimeno and McLoughlin are unharmed, Pezzulo is fatally wounded and, after firing his gun up through a gap in the rubble to try to alert rescuers to their position, dies.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  After Jimeno and McLoughlin spend hours under the rubble, two United States Marines, Dave Karnes and Jason Thomas, who are searching for survivors of the tower collapse, find Jimeno and McLoughlin and call for help to dig them out.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Their families are called and told that their husbands have walked out of the rubble in perfect health, but this is wrong; in fact, they are both in danger of dying. When the wives arrive, they are told that their husbands are in the garage and rush to meet them. McLoughlin's family manages to find him just before he is pulled into the operating room to be put in a medically induced coma.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  Two years later, as they attend a celebration to receive an award for courage, the families are happy again that the two officers, McLoughlin and Jimeno, survived the biggest terrorist attack in US history.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;  &lt;/em&gt;Watching those towers tumble down like a game of Stacko really made me cried. All those people stuck in there. All those people who died. Thousands of people died. Thousands of people were stuck, and only 20 were managed to be rescued. Even at those parts where the cops calls the families to tell them that their husbands or kids or whoever was alive, I cried. I don't know why. Tears of joy maybe. I mean, if something like that really happened to me, I don't know what I'll do. I'll most probably cry til my eyes drop out. But, to know that the ones you love are safe and coming home is a huge relief. Sometimes you'll just cry to know that they're safe. Or when you see others suffering, you'll want to cry too. You guys should watch the movie. It's really touching. To think that it's a true story. To think that such a thing really happened. It's not just a movie, it's a movie based on a true story that saddens us all.&lt;/p&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-3988882322673013751?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/3988882322673013751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/movie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3988882322673013751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/3988882322673013751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/movie.html' title='Movie'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-7204484877691847935</id><published>2009-08-19T22:40:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T00:06:25.073+08:00</updated><title type='text'>RIP People</title><content type='html'>Cause of the goddamn virus, I won't be going to school starting tomorrow. No, I do not have the virus. I'm just starting the hols early. Mum and dad are being a lil over protective. When I told them that there are students in Lick Hung who passed away cause of the virus, mum was like, 'what?!' Then, she asked my neighbour, my neighbour asked the transport lady. Aunty told my neighbour that she's not sure bout the Lick Hung case, but she does know that a teacher from Smk USJ 12 has passed away. Neighbour told my mum, mum told me. Anyway, I'm not sure what kind of person the teacher was, but, it's kinda sad. To think that the flu killed one of our friends teacher. When my maths teacher told us that 3 people in Lick Hung died, I thought she meant the teachers. Honestly, I almost freaked out. To imagine that one of my teachers who thought me back then has died is really hard to accept. Thank goodness they're all alright. But, the children. It's really sad. They're still so young. Kids that are under 12. They've barely seen the world, there's like, so much more to learn, so much more to see. They didn't have the chance. Rest in peace Miss Chai and Children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, since I'm not going to school tomorrow, I'll be spending most of my time sticking my butt on the piano seat and torturing my fingers with scales and pieces. Sighs. This is what I get for being lazy throughout the year. I guess I deserve it. I should have practised earlier when I had plenty of time, not last minute. One week before exam. *slaps head* Sighs. I really really really want that D. Ugh. Practise practise practise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, went to school today. I'm guessing that too many people in my class are using the Vanish soap thingi. Cause almost half my class vanished today. Yup. They didn't come. School was really boring. We didn't study at all (not that I enjoy studying), all we did was talk and play in class. But, we did have some fun. Did you know that we have a very talented student who can create different kinds of hairstyles using a comb, rubberband, pin and anything you can find in your pencil case? Tan Tzia-E the hairstylist. You guys should call her to do your hair, especially for prom. She's a genius. Go get her number people. Dear See Yeng got so many free hair-dos. Lol. Too bad we didn't get to snap some pictures of her. Next time, kay? After Pmr. And, oh. My history marks are horrible. A 'C'. A bee-you-tay-full 'C'. I should start counting my blessings now. Yikes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, skipping school tomorrow. *jumps and dances around the room like a mad woman* Okay, that's all. Off to continue working on my Ugly Bratty story. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-7204484877691847935?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/7204484877691847935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/rip-people.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7204484877691847935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/7204484877691847935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/rip-people.html' title='RIP People'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1021257775872939786</id><published>2009-08-18T23:22:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T00:07:51.038+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Black Hole</title><content type='html'>I should probably start finding a hiding place now before my mum finds out bout my results. Sighs. We only got back half of the paper and I already feel like dying. My marks? Unpresentable. Unspeakable. Unmentionable. (is there even such word?) Point is, my completely blew it. Like a typhoon that blew off the roofs, or a tornadoe that swirled through town and ripped up everything in it's path, or a hurricane that sucked everything near it to the bottom of the sea. Or even better, being sucked by into the black hole. That would be interesting. Getting to know what's the mystery about before saying byebye to the world. Maybe I should write that in my final letter next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To Whom It May Concern,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Should I, Nicole Chan Kit Mun, happen to be the unfortunate (or maybe the lucky) one to meet any freak accident and lose my life, I hereby clarify that I shall not be buried underground to rot and be infested by disgusting maggots. I do not want to turn to grey powder and be scattered around some part of the world. Therefore, I shall not be cremated. Also, with the brains of the future generation (most of them) getting smarter and smarter, many things innvolving technologies and medics are improving. Maybe one day they'll figure out a potion that brings the dead back to life. So, I shall not be preserved for fear of being turned into a zombie to be the domestic worker of some family in the future as seen in the movie 'Fido'. Instead, I would like my stinking dead body to be released into space and let it be sucked into the black hole for I would like to know what's going on in there. Who knows, there might be a dance club owned by some freaking rich aliens. As we all know, aliens are smarter than humans. So, they probably already figured out a potion that brings the dead back to life eons ago. Maybe they'll bring me back to life and I'll live my second life out there in space with the aliens. If they don't have the potion, then, heck, I'll just float around til the end. At least I got to enter the black hole. I once again remind those who read this letter, after my death, I want to float in space, not buried, cremated or preserved. Thank you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nicole&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not bad eh? I should write that letter. I might need it someday. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tonight. Maybe now. Ah, craps again. I should probably go to sleep now. Been waking up late for school almost everyday. Wait, not almost. It is everyday. I used to wake up around 5.30am. Then I extended the time til 6am. After musical practise everyday (which I wake up around 7-ish cause practise starts at 8 and I don't have to go to school cause my attendance is already taken) ended, I started waking up at 6.30am due to laziness. Now, when I open my eyes, it'll be like, 6.45, 6.52, 6.57. Then I'll jump out of bed and start rushing. Good thing my house is near the school. If I'm still in Lick Hung, goodness knows how many times my name would have been written in the prefect's tiny notebook. Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm in the process of becoming a Rakan Pembaca. I had no idea why we had to go to the library today. I had no idea what was going on. Until we got the papers. Pfft. But it's kinda fun. Chuen, See Yeng, and me. The crazy people who writes craps. Heh. Okay, seriously gotta sleep now. I just spilt water on the table. Mum's so gonna kill me. Shit. Bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1021257775872939786?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1021257775872939786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/black-hole.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1021257775872939786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1021257775872939786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/black-hole.html' title='Black Hole'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8529065901665937340.post-1536037246785596892</id><published>2009-08-16T21:07:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T21:34:55.502+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bye Bye Blousy</title><content type='html'>Been in a really bad mood today. My favourite blue blouse has just gone bye bye. Stupid stain. As if staining my blouse wasn't bad enough, it had to be RIGHT AT THE FRONT where there's no way I could hide it unless I wear a sweater or jacket to cover it up. But it's not sleeveless. Adding another layer of clothing to a shirt with sleeves would just get you a heat stroke in this country. Okay, maybe it's not &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; bad. But still, that blouse is unique la kay. Ugh. If it was at the side I could still block it with my bag or my hand, but &lt;em&gt;nooo&lt;/em&gt;, it had to be right at the front. Stupid idiotic stain. Up til now I still don't know what it is, but it really pisses my off. Of all the shirt I had hanging out there, WHY MY BLUE BLOUSE?! Gargh. I can never wear it out anymore. I can wear that shirt everyday and not get bored of it, unlike some of my other clothes. Sobs. I don't think they still have it in the stores. I bought it more than a year ago at jusco. They usually don't sell the same blouse for more than a year, don't they? Sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, it's only 10 more days to my grade 8 practical exam. And, I'm still not prepared, AT ALL. All 3 of my pieces are like, going on the roller coaster ride. Sometimes they're extremely good, sometimes they're okay-okay only, sometimes, my teacher feels like covering her ears and throwing me out of her house. Most of the time, it's the throw-nic-out-right-now kind of playing. I wonder if the examiner would throw me out of the examination room on that day. Next, scales. My scales are horrible. I haven't practised them for so many months. Starting now is kinda late, but better than not starting at all la. I just hope that by any sort of miracle, on that day, my hands will become magical and play smooth scales with beautiful dynamics and wonderful speed on the keyboard without breaking down. Moving on, sight-reading. I don't know if my sight-reading's okay. I mean, I've already practised the whole book, so basically I'm not sight-reading anymore. All my other songs are already learned. I seriously need more reading materials. Should put that on my shopping list the next time I go out. Lastly, aural test. I don't know what to say. Let's just hope that on that day, some miracle will happen and save me from humiliating myself infront of the examiner with my extremely embarassing playing for a grade 8 student. Oh yea, I don't know who's my examiner yet. Teacher won't tell me. But I sure hope that I get an old man. I don't want a lady examiner, especially young ones. They're too strict. Besides, they're really kiamsiap when giving marks. Old examiners, especially men, are more humble and less frightening. One of the reason, men don't wear make up. The last examiner I got was a lady, and boy you should have seen the amount of make up she had on her face. Where was she going after the exams? The opera house? She looked ferocious and scary. Whatever it is, male examiners (especially the old ones) usually give higher marks compared to female examiners. I don't know why. Maybe they're just really humble and kind-hearted in nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Oh yea, holidays are like, so soon. I know it's just a one week break, but hey, it's still a holiday. You get to sleep in and lounge around the house doing nothing. Well, not most of the time, maybe a few minutes a day. My mum would kill me if I did nothing for one whole week. But, due to the virus, all my plans have to be cancelled. No movies, no shopping, no going out with friends, no nothing. Mum won't let me go out cause she's worried that I'll catch the virus since my antibody sort of weakened as the years went by. Not that I blame her, she's just worried bout me. Sighs. One whole week at home. I guess I'll just have to date my revision books everyday. That is, if, I can dicipline myself to do so. I'll probably end up using the computer all day or sleeping like a pig. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nic-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8529065901665937340-1536037246785596892?l=unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/feeds/1536037246785596892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/bye-bye-blousy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1536037246785596892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8529065901665937340/posts/default/1536037246785596892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unbelievablyunpredictable.blogspot.com/2009/08/bye-bye-blousy.html' title='Bye Bye Blousy'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15942958534336412663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_00bf4N3wghY/SmL01hVKuXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8GVtgwqqUwQ/S220/Image084.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
