<?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-9178107000844486063</id><updated>2011-08-02T01:57:36.141+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes mistakes are beautiful...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-200278232343215236</id><published>2009-07-29T17:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T17:08:27.855+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time, Please</title><content type='html'>Time won't you stay still&lt;br /&gt;keep from passing me by &lt;br /&gt;from dragging me forward&lt;br /&gt;from pulling me back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With every step forward &lt;br /&gt;I will you one step back&lt;br /&gt;but you lunge ahead&lt;br /&gt;oblivious to my pleas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't you feel my heart&lt;br /&gt;aching all day long&lt;br /&gt;Can't you have mercy&lt;br /&gt;give me more time with him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Time, Please&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-200278232343215236?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/200278232343215236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=200278232343215236' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/200278232343215236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/200278232343215236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/07/time-please.html' title='Time, Please'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-6318617033539916702</id><published>2009-07-22T21:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T21:28:13.413+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shit... a blank page.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-6318617033539916702?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/6318617033539916702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=6318617033539916702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/6318617033539916702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/6318617033539916702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/07/shit-blank-page.html' title='Shit... a blank page.'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-4444371230929601515</id><published>2009-05-23T20:27:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T20:28:06.767+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing...</title><content type='html'>What's this quiet sadness? And why does it feel comforting sometimes?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-4444371230929601515?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/4444371230929601515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=4444371230929601515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/4444371230929601515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/4444371230929601515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/05/nothing.html' title='Nothing...'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-3434660836290102307</id><published>2009-04-16T21:02:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T21:49:01.445+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Introspect</title><content type='html'>Why do people think so much? Why do I think so much? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this afternoon, I've finally answered the second question. Why do I think so much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I think a lot about life and about my life because I want to convince myself that I'm a good person. Who doesn't want to be a good person? Well, I don't know about you but I sure do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I've not really lived the past 15 years of my life in the most fulfilling manner, or at least, in a fun way. I've spent most of my time well, slacking or dwelling needlessly on my problems. I'm an imperfect person. And well, though I see all my imperfections, I can't seem to clearly identify my talents or strength. As a result, I've been searching my past actions to dig out evidence of my strengths. And when i can't find that evidence, i find excuses to think about things more. Well, I haven't found much of the evidence i'd wanted. so yeah... Guess that has really taken it's toll in the past 3 years.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People often say that being a teenager is extremely difficult. I've even heard someone comment that even if he were paid a million dollars, he wouldn't relive his life as a teenager. The life of a teenager essentially revolves around one goal, that is, to find one's self. To realize our identity. People usually refer to this as understanding ourselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this process of understanding ourselves is not painless. Well, it may be to really optimistic people but generally, it's a painful process. Well, i guess we can say that the extent of the pain in directly proportionate to the degree of optimism a person has. The more optimistic one is, the less he suffers. That's how i understand it anyways. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is the process painful? Well, to understand ourselves, we are forced to see ourselves as we really are. All our strengths, imperfections, weaknesses, fears, desires laid bare. For some people, accepting their weaknesses, fears, and desires may not come easily. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone wants to be a good person, our weakness makes us 'less good' in a sense. For example, a weakness such as not being resilient may lead a person to think that he is not as good as he is supposed to be. This is especially so in our society today. Well, at least in Singapore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teachers drill into us moral values and 'desirable' attributes. They basically give us a table with two columns headed, good traits and bad traits. For example, under the 'good traits' column we find: resilience, patience, perseverance, compassion. Inversely, under the 'bad traits', we find things like, thinking with our emotions, undisciplined, giving up easily, and being emotionally 'weak' eg. crying a lot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence, students tend to think that if they possess the qualities under the 'good traits' column they are a good person because they have the qualities that they are supposed to have. If they don't possess them, well, they may think that they are an inferior person as they don't even have the traits that a person should have. Well, maybe it's just me but i think this is true. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i guess being optimistic really helps to lessen the pain truth inflicts. Now another question comes to mind, why are some people optimistic and some pessimistic? Is it nature or nurture? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm toot tired of blogging liao so I won't bother to ans tt question now. Maybe another time. So I'm trying my best to swallow the hard truth ~ i wasn't as strong as i had thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-3434660836290102307?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/3434660836290102307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=3434660836290102307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/3434660836290102307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/3434660836290102307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/04/introspect.html' title='Introspect'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-9210513839456531516</id><published>2009-04-13T22:44:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T23:05:14.197+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Alone</title><content type='html'>Well, now is the night before my SS and Bio test tmr. Yeah, I should be studying. And yes, I should have studied a little over the weekend. But... I tried my best. And if it's not enough I don't care. Cos yeah, I gave my best. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm just feeling a little stressed now I guess. That's why I'm blogging. Guess sometimes in life we have to do things alone. Even if we have a million fans supporting us. Even if our best friend is sitting beside us. Even if, well, people are trying their best to make things easier for us. We have to face some things alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess this is one of those times. Even though I know that my friends are supporting me, I'm the only one who can make myself study. No one is going to force me. No one is going to stuff the information into my head. It's just me, and my books. Yes, I'm grateful to the people who encouraged me tonight. They sure made a world of a difference. But... yes BUT. But the choice of whether I want to study or not still lies with me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Studying for these two tests aren't easy. 2 chapters of Bio and a chapter of SS. They're all heavy chapters, mind you. But yeah. I must have the mental resilience to mug. I don't love mugging. And i don't want to love it. Studying isn't all there is to life. In the end... well, i guess almost everyone would agree to this... we wouldn't care about all the PHDs or certificates we achieved when we're already on our death bed. Well, at least I wouldn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean like come on people! The world is hurting! There's a lack of human rights in the Middle East, racial discrimination among mankind all over the world. WARS are being raged, physical, spiritual, and emotional. People are getting raped, children are getting aborted, humans are getting killed by their fellow humans. Who cares about certs at the end of the day? Do you want to leave your mark on this earth or not? Are we just going to be content with our own comfort and survival while others suffer? Or do you want to be the one to touch the lives of people. To reach out and make a difference? The earth needs healing. Who's going to be the one to heal it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like we try our best in our studies... why not try our best to heal the world? The deeds that we do don't have to be great. For it is the little things that make up a great feat. Studies are just one of the many blessings bestowed upon us by God. So of course we must do our best. But if in the end we don't get the best results, it doesn't matter. Whatever the result we get is just another stepping stone to where God wants us to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh... ok... I'm just venting. Need to get back to studying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOVE passionately...&lt;br /&gt;LIVE meaningfully...&lt;br /&gt;PRAY fervently...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-9210513839456531516?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/9210513839456531516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=9210513839456531516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/9210513839456531516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/9210513839456531516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/04/alone.html' title='Alone'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-5542529314536984623</id><published>2009-03-08T23:53:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T00:51:44.596+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Diarrhea</title><content type='html'>Well, diarrhea's keeping me up tonight. The feeling's horrible you know. Yeah. But it's tolerable. Guess that's what makes it ok. Hmmm... Well, I guess that's what makes life ok too. It tolerable you know? What makes life great is when it doesn't need to be tolerated. But for now... Life kinda sucks... Yeah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, since it's just me and my thoughts right now I guess I'll just crap. To who? Well I don't know... The computer and whoever's reading this I guess. Not that many people would read my blog anyways. Haha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I was just thinking. I'm left handed right? And like psychologists say that left handers tend to be more creative. Cos we use our right brain more and well... the right brain is where our well of creativity bursts forth i guess. Haha. It sounds so silly. But yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Just thinking. I am not musically inclined. I think the people who know me would know that for a fact. Claire does NOT equal music. Yeah. I've even come to terms with it myself. When it comes to rhythm and well, pitches, it doesn't feel natural to me. I'll always have the tendency to adjust the music just a little. Well okay maybe it's more than a little. But I do it to fit my feelings. That's all. If it doesn't, well, it kinda feels foreign to my body. And er... I feel detached from it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So does that mean I'm not an 'artsy' person? Hmm... well, I don't think so. I've always longed to express myself through music. Not in dance, not through visual art, but the sweet and passionate ballet of music. Well, I'm pretty sure Ai and Felicia would have a great great laugh when they read this but yeah. That's me I guess. But I've realized that music can not only be found in the presence of sounds at different pitches, rhythms and emphasis all put together... with a tinge of emotion. It can be found in the silence. It can be found in words. To me... words just sing their way off the page if penned beautifully. If not, they're just noise. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point is... words sing in the silence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just like how music can somehow stretch out its hand and touch the deepest part of the human soul, I believe that words can do that too. Just like how the highest class of music is classical, and the highest form of music only takes shape when hearts are touched, the highest class of singing is poetry and its greatest form present when the reader's heart sings along with it. Only when the heart sings in the silence, is it called music.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-5542529314536984623?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/5542529314536984623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=5542529314536984623' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/5542529314536984623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/5542529314536984623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/03/diarrhea.html' title='Diarrhea'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-3083095743517840513</id><published>2009-03-08T16:28:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T16:31:15.831+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you remember me when I'm gone?</title><content type='html'>Remember me when I am gone away,&lt;br /&gt;Gone far away into the silent land;&lt;br /&gt;When you can no more hold my hand,&lt;br /&gt;Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Christina Rossetti, "Remember"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please... Remember me after I've gone away...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-3083095743517840513?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/3083095743517840513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=3083095743517840513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/3083095743517840513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/3083095743517840513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/03/would-you-remember-me-when-im-gone.html' title='Would you remember me when I&apos;m gone?'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-4425401854770332594</id><published>2009-02-25T14:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T14:56:40.645+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nostalgic?</title><content type='html'>Today's been a rather uneventful day i guess. That's what I'm sad about. Somehow I can't up the spirit to study. I can't bring myself to do anything. And now it's like i'm wasting my life away. Guess this makes me think of the friends I have. I don't have many friends. And i have even fewer close friends. I know that i have a close friend when the SILENCE between the two of us is comfortable. Right now, I've only reached that stage with one person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The irony of it is that I've only started to get to know tt person 4 months ago. Is it possible to make a best friend in 4 months? I wouldn't know. It's too early to say anyways. Granted I meet that person about 3 years ago when I was in sec 1. But I never really talked with that person before. I met that person (TP) on the bus cos a friend of mine introduced me to TP. Sometimes we would go back together if my friend had arranged to meet TP after school. But I had never really talked to TP. More than a year past by without me coming into contact with TP. Then I met up with TP to talk about something really personal. I have no idea why i called TP in the first place. I wanted to share my problem with someone and TP was the first person tt came to mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But even after that meeting we didn't talk for 6 months? So how is it tt i feel so close to TP? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it possible to make a best friend in 4 months? I believe it is. But anyhow, it's too early to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-4425401854770332594?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/4425401854770332594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=4425401854770332594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/4425401854770332594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/4425401854770332594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/02/nostalgic.html' title='Nostalgic?'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-6940174987400507360</id><published>2009-02-22T20:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T21:08:57.274+08:00</updated><title type='text'>For the faithless no explanation is enough... for those who have faith no explanation is needed</title><content type='html'>Today was an interesting day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the highlights of my day was commentating during the 1045 mass and spending like 5hrs with Paul. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The commentating went better than i had expected. I had expected that i would mumble or speak too softly. However, i sounded loud and clear. Haha. Whew. Well, that's over. Anyways, I am still a little pissed off that I did not really pray during mass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I'm kinda like stuck now... I'm stuck with some problem i have in life and i can't seem to carry on without resolving it. The problem is that this problem may take a really long time to be resolved. So I have absolutely no idea how i'm going to move on with my life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life still goes on whether you want it to or not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any suggestions anyone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-6940174987400507360?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/6940174987400507360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=6940174987400507360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/6940174987400507360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/6940174987400507360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/02/for-faithless-no-explanation-is-enough.html' title='For the faithless no explanation is enough... for those who have faith no explanation is needed'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-8646130957939445529</id><published>2009-02-18T19:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T19:34:09.068+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lonely...</title><content type='html'>I've had this feeling often... this feeling of loneliness. I have come to think of it as a friend. Sometimes it comes to sit with me, sometimes it's not that obvious but i can still faintly feel its presence. At times when i feel that i have no one to talk to, it becomes my friend. I take comfort in dwelling in it. It's weird but, sadly, it's true. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have friends in this world. Imaginary or not, they're still friends. Some people have more friends than others. Some have better friends than others. Some people do not have friends. There are also those whose friends are only superficial. There are friends that are true. And there are 'friends' who are not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I daresay that everyone has had a visit from the person called loneliness. At those moments, i feel so alone in the world. At those moments, i feel that life is not worth living. In those times, i feel like taking my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But loneliness has a way of making us forget the few precious friends we have in life. They may not be prominent, but they are always there. They may not always make you laugh but they will be there for you when you cry. They don't ask for anything in return and listens to your every word even if they don't agree with them. The thoughts of these people convinces me to let go of all self destructive intentions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes i wonder if i'm truly cherished by people. If i didn't exist, would people's life be any different. I guess i just want to matter in this world before i pass away. Even if i die a poor person, i want to die knowing that someone's thinking of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Humans all have an inborn desire to matter... don't they?&lt;br /&gt;Appreciate someone and you would have gained a friend.&lt;br /&gt;Show concern and you would keep that friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-8646130957939445529?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/8646130957939445529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=8646130957939445529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/8646130957939445529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/8646130957939445529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/02/lonely.html' title='Lonely...'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-7635585968067146437</id><published>2009-02-15T21:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T21:46:08.888+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life</title><content type='html'>Things change when we question the conventional and do the unconventional.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-7635585968067146437?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/7635585968067146437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=7635585968067146437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/7635585968067146437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/7635585968067146437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/02/life.html' title='Life'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-4670411404543507332</id><published>2009-02-06T21:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T21:27:45.767+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving on...</title><content type='html'>Went out with paul today, it was super fun. Well, i've been trying to get the irritating thoughts of school and band out of my head my nothing i do can make me let go of those thoughts. Anyway, we were at West Coast Park and were trying to fly a kite while it was drizzling. There wasn't much wind so we had a really tough time getting the kite off the ground. It was only at around 7 to 8pm that we got the kite in the sky. It was a really enjoyable experience. I had to run so as to bring the kite into the air. And I realized that while i was running, my mind just let go of all my worries and just focused on the kite. It was wonderful. I felt as though my mind was free from a cage and free from the constant headache that i have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really, really need to do that again...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-4670411404543507332?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/4670411404543507332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=4670411404543507332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/4670411404543507332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/4670411404543507332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/02/moving-on.html' title='Moving on...'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-4965071982389358699</id><published>2009-01-22T19:58:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T20:09:15.379+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things...</title><content type='html'>As the days go by i wonder if i've made full use of my time. Sometimes i think tt if i don't do things tt improve my studies i'm wasting my time. Now tt i think of it... i should really allow myself to relax without feeling guilty. Haha. What is life without enjoyment right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... now tt i've looked back at how i had behaved in my past, i feel a slight dislike for the past me/s. But i have to accept them because without them i wouldn't be where i am now. Even though i am not yet the type of person i want to be, i shall hope tt every change in my person (good or bad) will bring me closer to my goal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think tt my life is full of mistakes..............................................and for tt i'm grateful, for we learn more from our mistakes than from our successes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall give myself a night of from worrying tonight and just not worry so much about work. I deserve to enjoy myself once in a while without my irritating conscience bothering me every minute don't i? Well, i think i do... will post again when i feel like it. Haha... I'm satisfied today........... cos i haven't thought anything negative of myself as yet... yay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-4965071982389358699?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/4965071982389358699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=4965071982389358699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/4965071982389358699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/4965071982389358699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/01/things.html' title='Things...'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-8334779487789275810</id><published>2009-01-14T20:30:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T21:19:23.289+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Burnt out...</title><content type='html'>I'm really stressed nowadays. Sometimes I push too many of my worries aside that I get a headache or I get a nervous breakdown when dealing with very simple things. I feel empty and there's a subtle sadness in my soul. One of my friends said to my once, "You are only 15. You're not supposed to be so sad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I heard her say tt, I though to myself, "That is so true. Is there something wrong with me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm not sure if there is but there has to be a reason tt I feel sad most of the time. Is it the external events around em tt causes me to be sad? Or is it the internal responses tt bring this feeling of hopelessness and misery? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are not many things that i'm stressed about. I'm troubled that I'll not get closer to God. I'm worried that I'm disappoint lots of people in band. I'm anxious about my O levels. However, the first one is really important to me. The second has been haunting me for the past one year. I don't really care about the last one cos I want to work as a missionary in Africa when I grow up. I don't need prestigious degrees and stuff. And besides, my studies are quite stable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I think that I'm a very idealistic person. I want everything to be ideal. I want my relationship with God to be strong. I want to be a perfect person who is understanding and mature. I want to get straight As for my Os. However, the problem with this mindset is tt not everything in this world is perfect. In fact, most things aren't. And when I don't attain my expectations, I get frustrated with myself thinking that i'm incapable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that this is a very childish mindset. Well, not childish but certainly not mature. After thinking it over, I've decided that I want to work towards a mindset where I can forgive myself when I blunder and see the positive side in most "problems". I want to accept myself for who i am and not depend on the opinions of others for my self worth.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if i've heard this line from somewhere or someone before: It is only a problem when we make it one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the main reason of my stress these few days is tt I have many worries at the back of my mind but I don't have enough time to think them through. Well, I don't care about my work and revision now. I'm not sleeping till I talk myself through this emotional and mental crisis. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First things first. I've always been troubled by band. Ever since September in Sec 1, I've been going trough many emotional meltdowns because if it. But I think I've grown a lot since I've joined band. I feel like I'm being forced to grow rapidly in band. And no it's not the typical character growth like being more determined or developing perseverance. I've grown in many emotional aspects. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;br /&gt;I've learnt that what I think about myself is more important than what others think of me. I mean people come and go but I'm are the one that is going to live with... well... me for the rest of my life. And that's a really long time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;I've learnt not to derive my self worth from the opinions of others. How can I let other people tell me how much I'm worth? It's just ridiculous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;br /&gt;I've learnt that everyone has a right to feel what they are feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;I've learnt that criticizing people doesn't solve anything. It just hurts people's pride and "inspires" them to defend themselves. It also make you lots of enemies. Ouch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;br /&gt;I've learnt to hope for a better future. To always have a steady calm hope tt things would turn out better. It helps. But i've also learnt not to expect too much from a situation because the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.&lt;br /&gt;I've learnt that passion is a very important part of a person's life. Each and every one of us would find our passion one day if we search for it. I will never forget what it feels like to watch Mr. Tan conduct. I could feel his strong passion for music emitting from his very being. It's a beautiful feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.&lt;br /&gt;I've learnt how to be more thick skinned. (to not care what others think of me)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.&lt;br /&gt;I've learnt that we can't force someone to like a certain thing. Similarly, we can't force someone to do something. FREE WILL. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;br /&gt;I've learnt what true friends are. They are truly beautiful people who would accept you for who you are. They would stand by your side regardless of the situation. They listen to you vent or just talk about your sad times. They are happy for you in your glad times and feel for you in your sad ones. They are the ones who stand behind you, sometimes unseen, supporting you all the way. They don't tell you what to do. They advise you. They don't force their stands on you. They are always there for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's more or less what i've learnt from band. Of course I had to go through a lot of pain to learn these lessons but i have a feeling that they will stick with me through my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone said, "God doesn't always give you what you want, He gives you what you need."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this is true and I only recently started to realize that maybe God wanted to mold me into a better person with Band. I may not develop the qualities my teachers expect me to develop but I think I've learnt much more than what I expected myself to learn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course there's a lot of things I still need to learn in life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something else came to me, "A prayer need not be something complex or noble. It just needs to be something from the heart."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-8334779487789275810?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/8334779487789275810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=8334779487789275810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/8334779487789275810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/8334779487789275810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/01/burnt-out.html' title='Burnt out...'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-8254225572395103664</id><published>2009-01-03T19:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T19:44:32.449+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blah blah bla bl b</title><content type='html'>Well, a new year has started. There are lots of things to rejoice about of course. New things. So i'm finally sec 4 this year. Yay! Rulers of the school. Does that mean that the sec 4 batch this year would all score As for our math? Haha, cos we're the rulers! Yeah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, i feel that sometimes i aim too high and try to do one too many things on my own. I'm struggling with my spiritual life more than ever now and i wonder if i'm ever going to recover from that faithful downfall in 2006. As people say, what is past is past. There is nothing we can do about it. But i can't seem to get my head out of the past and into the present, let alone to plan for my future. Why? I have absolutely no idea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try as i did to focus on the present and future, i simply could not do it. Well, that put my self-esteem down even further. So the ever present questions in my head are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will i ever be good enough for the people around me?&lt;br /&gt;Will i ever love God with my whole heart?&lt;br /&gt;Will i ever love myself?&lt;br /&gt;What am i worth?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-8254225572395103664?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/8254225572395103664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=8254225572395103664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/8254225572395103664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/8254225572395103664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2009/01/blah-blah-bla-bl-b.html' title='Blah blah bla bl b'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-6235529033691417899</id><published>2008-12-27T23:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T23:34:15.037+08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's two days after Christmas...</title><content type='html'>It's two days after Christmas and there's lots to learn from this week already. Haha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well i was just thinking... Christmas is a time to be joyful and celebrate Jesus coming to our world. So it's kind of like celebrating Jesus' birthday. But somehow I've never really put my focus on Jesus, the birthday celebrant, in all my years of celebrating Christmas. I kinds feel bad about it. But oh well, I'll just have to try hard to get it right next year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went for the SMOTA charismatic group BBQ yesterday. It rained for i think about 40% of the time we were there. But I learnt a lesson there too. When it started to rain in the first part of the BBQ, I would have expected people to be sour and bitter at the weather, instead the group turned the situation into a joyous occasion. It was amazing. I realized that regardless of the situation we can still choose to be happy and praise the Lord... Even if things don't go our way. It was really a marvelous experience. The group were praising God in song in the rain and people were all smiles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and today wasn't really very eventful. It was fulfilling, enjoyable, and satisfying but not eventful. Sometimes the best things in life are the simple things right? Ya. I had my first taste of getting high from alcohol and it was GREAT! Haha. I want to do it again. Whee... Hmmm... then after a talk with a friend i finally realized that i had been too hard on myself since i was 9. Whoa. Haha. Ok so i'll try not to be too hard on myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turns out that life seems to be more and more interesting and exciting to me as i knock down more and more of my psychological barriers... Whoo hoo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-6235529033691417899?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/6235529033691417899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=6235529033691417899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/6235529033691417899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/6235529033691417899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2008/12/its-two-days-after-christmas.html' title='It&apos;s two days after Christmas...'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-1094500397002351910</id><published>2008-12-13T08:53:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T08:58:20.313+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Today's a special day... but how should I spend it?</title><content type='html'>Today's a special day but I don't know what to do with it. Should I watch TV or hang around the computer? Probably not. Then what should I do? Sigh. I have no idea. I just want to get out and do something productive. Like create something. Or helping other people. Something that does not only benefit myself. But what? hmmm... Today's a Saturday. What can be done on a saturday? Hmmmm...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-1094500397002351910?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/1094500397002351910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=1094500397002351910' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/1094500397002351910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/1094500397002351910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2008/12/todays-special-day-but-how-should-i.html' title='Today&apos;s a special day... but how should I spend it?'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-9220456587142699817</id><published>2008-12-11T09:54:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:57:27.350+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why WHy WHY?</title><content type='html'>Why do I get the feeling that things around me aren't going right? No, it's not the things around me. It's how I'm responding to the things happening around me. I feel that I'm not handling situations correctly. Hmmm... So I feel more irritable I guess. Because I'm frustrated at myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-9220456587142699817?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/9220456587142699817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=9220456587142699817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/9220456587142699817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/9220456587142699817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2008/12/why-why-why.html' title='Why WHy WHY?'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-2000474980943496604</id><published>2008-12-07T15:19:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T15:29:06.117+08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a lonely lonely day...</title><content type='html'>Sigh... I've not many friends. Maybe it's because I didn't need to make friends in Primary School. Cos I had so many siblings waiting for me at home. Maybe it's because I'm a loner or something. Or maybe I expect too much of people before I consider them as friends.  Hmmmm... But I really treasure those whom I consider my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's me I guess. Many acquaintances and few friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I lower my expectations of the people I consider friends? Maybe I will not. Is it a good thing or a bad one?   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, today's Rose's and James' Birthday party. A few of James friends came but all of Rose's friends couldn't make it for one reason or another. Poor girl. Feel really sad for her. Maybe I understand what she feels. Being lonely isn't a nice feeling but I guess it pays us a visit from time to time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-2000474980943496604?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/2000474980943496604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=2000474980943496604' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/2000474980943496604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/2000474980943496604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2008/12/its-lonely-lonely-day.html' title='It&apos;s a lonely lonely day...'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-3805093714883136509</id><published>2008-12-05T22:58:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T23:03:11.773+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter thingy</title><content type='html'>Haha... saw this thing on Shumian's blog so decided to try it out. This thing is totally nonsensical. Haha, I'm returning the cut toenails to you? Hahahahaha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Paul:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't know how to tell you this, but our romance is over. I think I realized it when I quoted Santa at the mental hospital and I saw you sit on the crazy monk. I'm sure you're ashamed enough to understand that Extreme Home Makeover sucks. I'm returning the cut toenails to you, but I'll keep the oil stocks as a memory, You should also know that I never openly mocked eggplant-fetishism. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In pain, &lt;br /&gt;- Claire - &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do the “Letter Meme”.&lt;br /&gt;Tag no less than 5 other people. Then copy the “How-to” Letter Meme, and finish your Journal entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tag EVERYBODY WHO WANTS TO DO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear (the last person who left a comment on your journal):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t really know how to tell you this, but (1). I think I realized it (2) (3) and I saw you (4) (5). I’m sure you’re (6) enough to understand (7). I’m returning (8) to you, but I’ll keep (9) as a memory. You should also know that I (10) (11).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;___12___,&lt;br /&gt;-Your name-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What’s the color of your shirt?&lt;br /&gt;Blue - Our romance is over&lt;br /&gt;Red - Our affair is over&lt;br /&gt;White - I’ll join the monastery&lt;br /&gt;Black - I dislike you&lt;br /&gt;Green - Our horoscope doesn’t match&lt;br /&gt;Grey - You’re a pervert&lt;br /&gt;Yellow - I’m selling myself&lt;br /&gt;Pink - Your nostrils are insulting&lt;br /&gt;Brown - The mafia wants you&lt;br /&gt;No shirt - You’re a loser&lt;br /&gt;Other - I’m in love with your sister&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Which is your birth month?&lt;br /&gt;January - That night&lt;br /&gt;February - Last year&lt;br /&gt;March - When your dwarf bit me&lt;br /&gt;April - When I tripped on sesame seeds&lt;br /&gt;May - First of May&lt;br /&gt;June - When you put cuffs on me&lt;br /&gt;July - When I threw up&lt;br /&gt;August - When I saw the shrunken head&lt;br /&gt;September - When we skinny dipped&lt;br /&gt;October - When I quoted Santa&lt;br /&gt;November - When your dog ran amok&lt;br /&gt;December - When I changed tennis shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Which food do you prefer?&lt;br /&gt;Tacos - In your apartment&lt;br /&gt;Pizza - In your camping car&lt;br /&gt;Pasta - Outside of Chicago&lt;br /&gt;Hamburgers - Under the bus&lt;br /&gt;Salad - As you ate enchilada&lt;br /&gt;Chicken - In your closet&lt;br /&gt;Kabob - With Paris Hilton&lt;br /&gt;Fish - In women’s clothing&lt;br /&gt;Sandwiches - At the Hare Krishna graduation&lt;br /&gt;Lasagna - At the mental hospital&lt;br /&gt;Hot dog - Under a state of trance&lt;br /&gt;None of the above - With George Bush and his wife&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. What’s the color of your socks?&lt;br /&gt;Yellow - Hit on&lt;br /&gt;Red - Insult&lt;br /&gt;Black - Ignore&lt;br /&gt;Blue - Knock out&lt;br /&gt;Purple - Pour syrup on&lt;br /&gt;White - Carve your initials into&lt;br /&gt;Grey - Pull the clothes off&lt;br /&gt;Brown - Put leeches on&lt;br /&gt;Orange - Castrate&lt;br /&gt;Pink - Pull the toupee off&lt;br /&gt;Barefoot - Sit on&lt;br /&gt;Other - Drive out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What’s the color of your underwear?&lt;br /&gt;Black - My best friend&lt;br /&gt;White - My father&lt;br /&gt;Grey - Bill Clinton&lt;br /&gt;Brown - My fart balloon&lt;br /&gt;Purple - My mustard soufflé&lt;br /&gt;Red - Donald Duck&lt;br /&gt;Blue - My avocado plant&lt;br /&gt;Yellow - My penpal in Ghana&lt;br /&gt;Orange - My Kid Rock-collection&lt;br /&gt;Pink - Manchester United’s goalkeeper&lt;br /&gt;None - My John F. Kennedy-statue&lt;br /&gt;Other - The crazy monk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. What do you prefer to watch on TV?&lt;br /&gt;Scrubs - Man&lt;br /&gt;O.C. - Emotional&lt;br /&gt;One Tree Hill - Open&lt;br /&gt;Heroes - Frostbitten&lt;br /&gt;Lost - High&lt;br /&gt;House - Scarred&lt;br /&gt;Simpsons - Cowardly&lt;br /&gt;The news - Mongolic&lt;br /&gt;Idol - Masochistic&lt;br /&gt;Family Guy - Senile&lt;br /&gt;Top Model - Middle-class&lt;br /&gt;None of the above - Ashamed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Your mood right now?&lt;br /&gt;Happy - How awful I’ve felt&lt;br /&gt;Sad - How boring you are&lt;br /&gt;Bored - That Santa doesn’t exist&lt;br /&gt;Angry - That your pimples are at the last stage&lt;br /&gt;Depressed - That we’re cousins&lt;br /&gt;Excited - That there is no solution to this.&lt;br /&gt;Nervous - The middle-east&lt;br /&gt;Worried - That your Honda sucks&lt;br /&gt;Apathetic - That I did a sex-change&lt;br /&gt;Ashamed - That I’m allergic to your hamster&lt;br /&gt;Cuddly - That I get turned on by garbage men&lt;br /&gt;Overjoyous - That I’m open&lt;br /&gt;Other - That Extreme Home Makeover sucks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. What’s the color of your walls in your bedroom?&lt;br /&gt;White - Your ring&lt;br /&gt;Yellow - Your love letters&lt;br /&gt;Red - Your Darth Vader-poster&lt;br /&gt;Black - Your tame stone&lt;br /&gt;Blue - The couch cushions&lt;br /&gt;Green - The pictures from LA&lt;br /&gt;Orange - Your false teeth&lt;br /&gt;Brown - Your contact book&lt;br /&gt;Grey - Our matching snoopy-bibs&lt;br /&gt;Purple - Your old lottery coupons&lt;br /&gt;Pink - The cut toenails&lt;br /&gt;Other - Your memories from the military service&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. The first letter of your first name?&lt;br /&gt;A/B - Your photo&lt;br /&gt;C/D - The oil stocks&lt;br /&gt;E/F - Your neighbour Martin&lt;br /&gt;G/H - My virginity&lt;br /&gt;I/J - The results of your blood-sample&lt;br /&gt;K/L - Your left ear&lt;br /&gt;M/N - Your suicide note&lt;br /&gt;O/P - My common sense&lt;br /&gt;Q/R - Your mom&lt;br /&gt;S/T - Your collection of butterflies&lt;br /&gt;U/V - Your criminal record&lt;br /&gt;W/X - David’s tricot outfits&lt;br /&gt;Y/Z - Your grades from college&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. The last letter in your last name?&lt;br /&gt;A/B - Always will remember&lt;br /&gt;C/D - Never will forget&lt;br /&gt;E/F - Always wanted to break&lt;br /&gt;G/H - Never openly mocked&lt;br /&gt;I/J - Always have felt dirty before&lt;br /&gt;K/L - Will tell the authorities about&lt;br /&gt;M/N - Told in my confession today about&lt;br /&gt;O/P - Was interviewed by the Times about&lt;br /&gt;Q/R - Told my psychiatrist about&lt;br /&gt;S/T - Get sick when I think of&lt;br /&gt;U/V - Always will try to forget&lt;br /&gt;W/X - Am better off without&lt;br /&gt;Y/Z - Never liked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. What do you prefer to drink?&lt;br /&gt;Water- Our friendship&lt;br /&gt;Beer - Senility&lt;br /&gt;Soft drink - A new life as a clone&lt;br /&gt;Soda - The incarnation as an eskimo&lt;br /&gt;Milk - The apartment building&lt;br /&gt;Wine - Cocaine abuse&lt;br /&gt;Cider - A passionate interest for mice&lt;br /&gt;Juice - Oprah Winfrey imitations&lt;br /&gt;Mineral water - Embarrassing rash&lt;br /&gt;Hot chocolate - Eggplant-fetishism&lt;br /&gt;Whisky - To ruin the second world war&lt;br /&gt;Other - To hate the Boston Celtics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. To which country would you prefer to go on a vacation?&lt;br /&gt;Thailand - Warm regards&lt;br /&gt;USA - Best regards&lt;br /&gt;England - Good luck on your short-term leave from jail&lt;br /&gt;Spain - Go and drown yourself&lt;br /&gt;China - Disgusting regards&lt;br /&gt;Germany - With ease&lt;br /&gt;Japan - Go burn&lt;br /&gt;Greece - Your everlasting enemy&lt;br /&gt;Australia - Greetings to your frog Leonard&lt;br /&gt;Egypt - Screw off now&lt;br /&gt;France - In pain&lt;br /&gt;Other - Greetings to your freaky family&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-3805093714883136509?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/3805093714883136509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=3805093714883136509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/3805093714883136509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/3805093714883136509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2008/12/letter-thingy.html' title='Letter thingy'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-8265327676477566693</id><published>2008-12-04T20:53:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T21:03:14.790+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happiness vs. saddness</title><content type='html'>Sadness seems more bountiful than happiness in life sometimes... Maybe it is so to make the happy times all the more joyful... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, sadness and happiness are choices we have to make. They're like candy. We can choose the sour candy or the sweet one but in the end, what's inside the candy is a sweet taste. Just like in our choice to be happy or sad, Jesus will still be with us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes happiness seems like an impossible choice to make in the mist of unhappiness happening all around us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we force ourselves to be happy and smile but know that we are still saddened in our hearts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus said that there's a time for everything. A time to rejoice and a time to mourn. A time to be happy and a time to be sad. So how do we know when is the right time to be happy or sad? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'm grateful for the sad times because they make us enjoy and appreciate the glad times. But sometimes sad moments feel like they could last forever. So the very least we can do is to enjoy and savour every glad moment that we're blessed with. And most importantly, thank God for them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-8265327676477566693?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/8265327676477566693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=8265327676477566693' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/8265327676477566693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/8265327676477566693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2008/12/happiness-vs-saddness.html' title='Happiness vs. saddness'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-5050672896362573846</id><published>2008-12-03T21:04:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T21:21:39.071+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyday's a special day... Pls kick me if I forget it</title><content type='html'>First things first... HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAMANTHA! You're 15 now! Hooray! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not emo today but since I'm on the computer I might as well blog before I go read a book or do something to help kick start my brain again... Haha. Today I got addicted to Sudoku! Wah It's super fun. But I'm very slow at it :P now you see why I have to jump-start my brain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went for evening mass today because I felt like it. I had a urge to go for mass since morning so I thought I should just go for it. Hmmm... don't know what happened to me in mass though. Halfway through the reading I started tearing. I guess I just couldn't imagine how God would still love someone like me. But He does and who am I to doubt or question God right? Whoo hoo! Feel great now for no particular reason. I guess I'm really thankful to be alive, to have many wonderful people to love and be loved in return. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm... read this book recently titled What Color is Your Brain? My brain color is blue! Yay blue brainers! Haha. And guess what? the book said that blue brainers are often seen to be... MOTHERLY! I was sooo frustrated when I saw that statement. Not only my friends think I'm motherly but the book does too! Okay that sounded a little stupid but who cares! I'm not that smart... right Ai? Haha... I'm really crapping now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well here's a shoutout to everyone who talked to me at least one time whether it's just calling my name or something: THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME WHO I AM TODAY... WITHOUT YOU, MY LIFE WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN THE SAME... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... everyday's God's Gift to us. [That's why they call it the PRESENT. Get it? The past, the future the PRESENT? Haha?] So if I don't laugh at least once a day... kick me. Seriously. If I don't make one person laugh everyday please knock me on my head. Bleah. Haha. Well... I've crapped to my heart's content now. So... TTFN [Ta ta for now... Quoted from Tigger]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. "I've taken the chance to trust myself again... you'll know when that trust is lost... if it is ever lost."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-5050672896362573846?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/5050672896362573846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=5050672896362573846' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/5050672896362573846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/5050672896362573846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2008/12/everydays-special-day-pls-kick-me-if-i.html' title='Everyday&apos;s a special day... Pls kick me if I forget it'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-3655830942736092535</id><published>2008-12-02T11:37:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T12:09:42.680+08:00</updated><title type='text'>One of those days...</title><content type='html'>Today is one of those days again... one of those days in which i feel irritated, annoyed, frustrated, and disappointed in everything around me. Then, I'll hate myself for it. Emo right? Ya, I know. Well... I'm listening to "Like Eagles" by Don Moen. Wow, I'm always amazed by Christian music. Whenever I'm down in the dumps and I come across a christian song, my mood will brighten up instantly. It's really amazing. Wow. I'm not moody any more. Huh. Wow. After listening to that song, I feel like my life has hope in it again. Okay I'm just pouring out my random thoughts now... But never mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, I just realised how badly sin can mess up my life. Before September 2006, the month in which I committed a horrible sin and got addicted to it, my life was filled with tremendous hope, peace and joy. It was almost too good to be true. My joy was endless, my hope was intoxicating, and my peace was... well, childlike even. And it was all possible thanks to God. Then, the communication network between myself and God was slowly cut off when I got addicted to that sin. Now, my heart is hardened once again. But, with the mercy of God, I had a taste of a life filled with hope, peace, and joy once again this year in the month of July. It was wonderful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had to name one of the most blissful time in my life, that would be it. Even though I was a sinner. Everyone's a sinner anyway. But at that time, I felt that my sin was huge. Sometimes I felt that my sin was bigger than God. Now I've come to realise that nothing's bigger than God. Anyway, as I was saying, even though I was a sinner, even though I was shutting God out of my life, I was reminded that God had not forgotten me. When I had thought that all hope was lost, I felt the tremendous love of God touching my heart when I took the chance to open it. From then on till three weeks later, I lead a blissful life. That was when i realised the meaning of the word "bliss". Then, it all ended when I let my guard down and sinned again. I allowed guilt, and doubt to creep into my mind and as a result, I didn't dare to reconcile with God. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to know the complete story of my blissful three weeks you'll have to ask me yourself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on, I guess what just came to me was:&lt;br /&gt;"Repentance does not mean feeling guilty. Repentance does not mean losing confidence in yourself. Repentance means having a change of heart and a will to move closer to God. For our God is a God who forgives if only we repent. And for that alone i am glad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter what happens around me, I will stay strong and place my hope in God for He is faithful and unchanging. His love for us will never change. All we have to do is repent and open our hearts to experience it. For Jesus said, "I stand at the door and knock, to whoever opens the door I will come in..." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the choice is ours. Do we want to open the door to Jesus or not? The answer is simple, just a yes or a no. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started writing this post feeling troubled, and upset. But as I end this post, I can dare say that what I'm feeling now is bliss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-3655830942736092535?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/3655830942736092535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=3655830942736092535' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/3655830942736092535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/3655830942736092535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2008/12/one-of-those-days.html' title='One of those days...'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-8795122946213546919</id><published>2008-11-27T00:01:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T00:01:32.554+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Living</title><content type='html'>Hey, I've just read someone's post about how our lives in Singapore is so much more pampered than the lives of the children in Batam. Yet, they are happier than we are. That particular post made me think and again... I'm entering my introspective mode again... nvm a little introspection is good for us...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... The main question in my head is: What am I supposed to live for? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This question is not focusing on my purpose here on Earth but on what I am living for. To me, "the purpose of our life" means how we are going to make an impact on others by living. In contrast, "what I am living for" means the person, God, goal, or dream that I'm living for or living to achieve. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What am I living for" is in the present tense but I'm not really bothered about that right now. "What I am supposed to be living for" is what is truly bothering me now. Currently, my life is, let's face it, not Christ centered. On top of that, I'm at a loss to what my passion is. I don't know what I like to do. I have not discovered my interest. Hence, putting two and two together, I'm not sure about who I'm supposed to live for anymore. The text book answer is, "God of course." While I also know that that is the right answer, I hesitate as if doubting myself. It may be my darker side giving in or something. Oh, wait, it IS my darker side giving in! I can't believe I didn't realise it till now! So now I've answered my own question: I'm supposed to be living for God!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh man, now another question popped up into my head: "What does living for God entail?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, by common sense, the first thing that came into my mind was prayer. But that can't be all there is to it. In the homily during the 10.45am mass on the 23rd of November, Father J.P. said something along the lines of the essence of christianity being giving to the needy and basically helping those in need around us. Lifting people up. Is this what it means to live or lives for God? I don't know. But I guess I should just pray about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, let's not dwell on the same subject for too long a time. Moving on I feel that there are loads of people that we can help or sacrifice our time for out there. If only we ask God to guide us in this path, I'm sure that He will make a way for us to do His will in His own time. Well, that may be the key... to discover what God wants us to do on this Earth, we must be alert to His calling and be obedient in What he tells us to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that some people are "blessed" with more things than others? Is there a reason? I believe that there is a reason for everything that happens. And while God blesses us abundantly, we have to be aware that our actions may cause us to reject God's blessings and hence as a result reject God. Um, I'm not sure if this is right but it is what I think. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while this is a complicated issue, the solution may be simple in nature. Who knows? God works in mysterious and wondrous ways :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-8795122946213546919?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/8795122946213546919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=8795122946213546919' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/8795122946213546919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/8795122946213546919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2008/11/living.html' title='Living'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-2460112865878334866</id><published>2008-11-23T08:59:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T09:29:26.601+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A wrong choice</title><content type='html'>We are forced to make choices everyday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the morning we have to chose to get out of bed. We chose where we head to first after that. We chose to have or not to have breakfast. These are small choices. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are, however, more... how is it put? major choices?  important choices? Well, they are choices that would affect our lives in a significant way. For example, we could chose to view porn. Even if we only do it once, our minds would be stained forever. It would be difficult to erase the pleasant or unpleasant "memories" we have gained. Or when we have to chose to have or not to have a BGR. Obviously this would impact our lives too. Whether in a good way or a bad way I do not know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choices like choosing which course to take in a polytechnic are of the utmost importance for they would alter your course of life in the future. Choices that involve the choosing of one's CCA may not be very important for the effects would only span for a period of four years in a secondary school. However, for me, this has been one of the worst choices I have made in my short 15 years of life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes mistakes &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;are&lt;/span&gt; beautiful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still, it is this huge mistake that I've made that I discovered one part of myself that I have to accept: I will not persevere in doing something that I absolutely despise. In this case, it is band. I don't hate the band people. I used to but now I don't. I just don't like playing in a band. I don't take pleasure in performing, so I don't have a motivation to practice my pieces. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In sec 2, I used to get really stressed when someone talks about band. I keep getting the feeling that I'm letting loads of people down. I get the feeling that I'm not good enough. All in all, I lost almost every bit of self respect I had for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what did I blame it on? Band of course. But as I told myself that it was all the Band's fault, I knew that it, in fact, was my fault that I was in that state. I could change my way of thinking. Hence, I could change my response to the situation I was in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in sec 3, I just totally stopped caring about band. It wasn't easy at first, but I managed to do it. Now, my life has changed totally. No, my life is still the same. My outlook on life has changed. That alone was enough to brighten up my life and give me hope of a better future. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that the attitude I've chosen to adopt towards band may not be the best one. But, that's me. Protective nature I guess. I cared about something and got hurt in the end. So I just stopped caring. Simple as that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm blogging about this because there's a band camp tomorrow that I have to attend. It's a three day two night camp. I'm risking my "not so emo" state of mind my going for this camp. Hopefully I'm come out alive and kicking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I have no idea of how I'm supposed to react to band. Well, all of us has our own flaws I guess. But a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved. Wish me luck! ;*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-2460112865878334866?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/2460112865878334866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=2460112865878334866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/2460112865878334866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/2460112865878334866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2008/11/wrong-choice.html' title='A wrong choice'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9178107000844486063.post-4086934949818701940</id><published>2008-11-22T09:32:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T09:32:49.309+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Something new... again</title><content type='html'>Mistakes are part and parcel of life. Sometimes we try to erase our mistakes. This is usually the case for me. When I make mistakes or see flaws in my way of thinking, I would try to wipe them from my memory or erase any evidence of them, like I did with my pervious few blogs. Tee Hee^^ But I've come to realise that mistakes are the ones that allow us to grow as a person. And doing things right the first time just proves that we know how to do those things and hence, have nothing new to learn from it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, just to cut to the chase, mistakes are beautiful and they are meant to be savored... just like how the life God gave us is meant to be enjoyed...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9178107000844486063-4086934949818701940?l=sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/feeds/4086934949818701940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9178107000844486063&amp;postID=4086934949818701940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/4086934949818701940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9178107000844486063/posts/default/4086934949818701940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesmistakesarebeautiful.blogspot.com/2008/11/something-new-again.html' title='Something new... again'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03801335077484967315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pglFlrZFcHM/SS1zkEF1ExI/AAAAAAAAABc/OAnUghdKSOI/S220/philopapou.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
