<?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-2091008590309454719</id><updated>2011-09-24T21:12:31.682-07:00</updated><title type='text'>itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2091008590309454719/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Joey Hoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00873284438233202180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gsqzDlddVYE/ScEd9zOANLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/IFUaD-0t_Y0/S220/Lao+by+Tina.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091008590309454719.post-5706096234827298610</id><published>2010-03-24T06:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T07:04:42.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Just Loves My Cat more</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;What there to say? I just loves my cat more. For now at least. Belle. That’s her name. I actually thought this over. What to call her when I just got her at 2 months old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Belle is silly. Belle is quiet. Belle is melancholy. Belle has beautiful eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I came back from a bad date, I look and stroke belle. Who always runs to me when I open the door. There is no whys. There is no whats. It’s probably equivalent to a man having a doll dummy. But I feel what I feel now. Am I comparing a cat to a man? Yes I am. Sorry I know it’s not an equal comparison but I guess I am comparing all the same. Does everything needs logic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Belle is forgiving. Belle is compromising. Belle has loving nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remembered broking up with a guy which I thought is a good honest responsible guy and wondering if I had done something wrong and losing a little faith in myself. Am I just being unreasonable? Should I compromise more? Would things have been different if I responded otherwise? It is silly but I hugged my cat and pondered. I hugged my cat and talked to myself. I hugged my cat and thought whole night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Belle is silent. Belle is wise. Belle is naïve. Belle does not care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised I should have more beliefs in myself. I re-inforced that I have been now for nothing if not these years. Times of hardships, moments of sadness, fighting of suffering. I am what I choose to be. If I do not understand myself, I will not know what I genuinely desires for, then I do not deserve what I wish for and thus do not be what I am living and striving for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Belle is instinctive. Belle is natural. Belle do not complain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am human and not perfect. I desires and often surrenders to secular temptations. It is so hard. So hard to be morality-conscious and principly-correct. But what are we if we do not try. What difference if we give in? What will we become if homo-consciousness has given way to modernity of hedonism? I do not seek to convince others. It is enough I have myself to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Belle is happy. Belle is contented. Belle is not jealous when I come back late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loves my cat. Meow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;it was a time like this&lt;br /&gt;when life stood still&lt;br /&gt;minutes ceased to exist&lt;br /&gt;and what we once knew&lt;br /&gt;i looked into her eyes&lt;br /&gt;to decipher the truth&lt;br /&gt;suddenly she sprang at me&lt;br /&gt;i smiled at her move&lt;br /&gt;what she had derived&lt;br /&gt;were words without sound&lt;br /&gt;a feeling?&lt;br /&gt;a vibe?&lt;br /&gt;i really cannot tell&lt;br /&gt;but there you have it&lt;br /&gt;like a candle just lit&lt;br /&gt;the wonderous mysteries of life&lt;br /&gt;hit upon you at a time like this&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2091008590309454719-5706096234827298610?l=itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com/feeds/5706096234827298610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-just-loves-my-cat-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2091008590309454719/posts/default/5706096234827298610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2091008590309454719/posts/default/5706096234827298610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-just-loves-my-cat-more.html' title='I Just Loves My Cat more'/><author><name>Joey Hoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00873284438233202180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gsqzDlddVYE/ScEd9zOANLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/IFUaD-0t_Y0/S220/Lao+by+Tina.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091008590309454719.post-3166608333018448062</id><published>2009-07-26T00:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T06:49:54.365-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Purging Process</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;For few years, i have been making travelling jaunts. sometimes alone, sometimes with friends. but mostly as a lone lonesome loner. phomn penh &amp;amp; siam reap of cambodia; kathmandu &amp;amp; pokhara of nepal; vientiane, viengvang &amp;amp; luang prabang of laos; paris, french alps, varseille, normandy, marseille &amp;amp; aix en province of france; london of england; hanoi of vietnam; ulaanbaater, altai mountains &amp;amp; gobi desert of mongolia; taipei &amp;amp; jiufen of taiwan; tokyo of japan; seoul of south korea; hatyai, phuket, bangkok, chiangmai, koh samui of thailand; shanghai, beijing, shenzhen &amp;amp; hongkong of china, wellington, auckland &amp;amp; whole south island of new zealand; few islands of indonesia and most of malaysia... if i color the world map with these places, it will not even cover 20%. so many places, so little time and resources.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a very interesting finding i came across in the most unexpected place- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;think of yourself as a battery. your brain runs on chemically converted electrical current. your muscles run on tiny charges, a chemical called acetylcholine that allows the charge to pass when you need to move. and when you need to stop, another chemical called cholinesterase is manufactured. cholinesterase destroys acetylcholine, so your nerves become poor conductors again. the point is, everything you think, everything you do, it all has to run off the battery. like an accessories in a car. a normal life is like running a car with power window, power brakes, power seats, all the goodies. the more goodies a car have, the less the battery can charge. if we strip off the accessories, the battery can then go on charge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With this basic theory in mind, this is the debatable reasoning why some people(and mayhaps meself) go on a pilgrimage, embark on an unknown journey, take on an adventurous trip, have an innate wandering lust. to explain in layman terms - take a normal man and removes his tv, and what does he do at night? read a book; goes out with friends; listening to music. all those things but he's also missing that tv. there's a hole in his life where that tv used to be. a part of his accustomed life has been poured out. it makes a bigger hole in his life if he watches a lot of tv, a smaller hole if he only used it a little bit. now take away all his books, all his friends and his music. also remove all sustenance except what he can glean along the way. it's an emptying out process and a diminishing of the ego. we will turn into hmm.., empty tumblers. this is a casting away of things; a plurging process of habits and routines; a cleaning-out of the self-related others that are symbolically related to the superficiality of the material needs of society and the comfort safe haven that we take so much for granted. we begin to empty out the vessel. and then we go into charge like the battery of the car. this is why old prophets go into the wilderness. one wants to be purified. one do not settle for the mundane and seeks meaning. it takes consciousness, acknowledgement and courage to take the first step. to question and search. the pious do not do it as they had 'found' god, the atheist do not do it as they do not need to find god, the agnostics will stumble on the path which is yet to reap any reward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much more can be said from here but i'm getting tired and lazy. what you may read in 10 mins, i have to write in 30 mins, racking and picking with the mastermind and lifestem of my battery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, instead of ending with my own, i've decided to present some lyrics from a very cool song just heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;to stay myself longer&lt;br /&gt;calling in the depths of longing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stand alone&lt;br /&gt;where was life when it had a meaning&lt;br /&gt;nothing's real anymore and endless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;run... while i'm alive&lt;br /&gt;i can try not to fall while flying&lt;br /&gt;not to forget how to dream, how to love&lt;br /&gt;endless run...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;calling... calling for the place of knowing&lt;br /&gt;there's more than what can be linked&lt;br /&gt;calling... calling now&lt;br /&gt;never will i look away&lt;br /&gt;for what life has left for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yearning... yearning for what's left of loving&lt;br /&gt;to stay myself longer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;~ inner universe by Origa&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr unselectable="on" hb_tag="1"&gt;&lt;td unselectable="on" height="1"  style="font-size:1pt;"&gt;&lt;div id="hotbar_promo"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2091008590309454719-3166608333018448062?l=itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com/feeds/3166608333018448062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com/2009/07/purging-process.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2091008590309454719/posts/default/3166608333018448062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2091008590309454719/posts/default/3166608333018448062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com/2009/07/purging-process.html' title='The Purging Process'/><author><name>Joey Hoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00873284438233202180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gsqzDlddVYE/ScEd9zOANLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/IFUaD-0t_Y0/S220/Lao+by+Tina.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091008590309454719.post-2729695233771664154</id><published>2009-03-19T00:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T06:56:49.838-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The first blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Hmmm... what should i write?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been encouraged many times to start blogging as it's supposedly good to have a record, like a journal or such, to keep those memories intact and down in black and white. So that when age and amnesia wash away your cells to hold stories, tada! 'You have a BLOG!" :P Guess it has never been important to me in this sense. Somehow it is like, i feel what i feel and to write it down seems to be 'dispersing and dissecting' it. And i always ask friends who blog "why?", isn't it weird to have people reading about your life and what you are doing or thinking? Are people getting more expressive or this world is just getting too heavy for us to keep it all inside? Here i am, at midnight, trying to write a blog to see how it feels. Maybe i will feel loosen after pouring out thoughts? Maybe i will get addicted to this channel of expression? Maybe i will find a writer in me? In any case, now that i am starting, i do not really care whatsoever or howitsever... will keep it going if i can and maybe nobody will see this blog until someone try to google me IF i am famous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm already starting to feel impatient so if i ever become a writer, it will be either i am bloody wealthy or something traumatic happens or there is such a thing called destiny...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thou shall end this blog with a poem...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;JIGSAW PUZZLE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;what if we think of lives as jigsaw puzzles&lt;br /&gt;that are made up of countless pieces&lt;br /&gt;pieces of you and me&lt;br /&gt;pieces of my families&lt;br /&gt;pieces of dark thunder clouds&lt;br /&gt;the days and things that make us sulk&lt;br /&gt;pieces of us making love&lt;br /&gt;the memories that are filled with wonder&lt;br /&gt;yes i think my life is like a jigsaw puzzle&lt;br /&gt;that are made up of countless pieces&lt;br /&gt;thank you for being part of this jigsaw puzzle&lt;br /&gt;am so glad to see you in my life picture&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr unselectable="on" hb_tag="1"&gt;&lt;td unselectable="on" height="1" size="1pt"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="hotbar_promo"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2091008590309454719-2729695233771664154?l=itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com/feeds/2729695233771664154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com/2009/03/first-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2091008590309454719/posts/default/2729695233771664154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2091008590309454719/posts/default/2729695233771664154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itisbutoneofmanybecauseofitibecomeme.blogspot.com/2009/03/first-blog.html' title='The first blog'/><author><name>Joey Hoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00873284438233202180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gsqzDlddVYE/ScEd9zOANLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/IFUaD-0t_Y0/S220/Lao+by+Tina.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
