<?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-7524312377933934674</id><updated>2011-07-08T21:51:53.818+08:00</updated><title type='text'>&lt;3</title><subtitle type='html'>Solitude, though it may be silent as light, is like light, the mightiest of agencies; for solitude is essential to man. All men come into this world alone and leave it alone. Thomas de Quincey (1785-1859) British author and intellectual.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>72</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6106021170071306003</id><published>2010-05-06T14:28:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T14:33:57.238+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have moved: http://loving-thou.blogspot.com/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reasons:&lt;br /&gt;1) My bloglink is too manly.&lt;br /&gt;2) I think people will be confused whether this is a girl/a guy's with the content&lt;br /&gt;(Guess what? I just realised that my new blog looks exactly the same except that the background is white now!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6106021170071306003?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6106021170071306003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-have-moved-httploving-thou.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6106021170071306003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6106021170071306003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-have-moved-httploving-thou.html' title=''/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-637504948970534356</id><published>2010-03-13T17:51:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T18:00:42.460+08:00</updated><title type='text'>diminishing rate of return</title><content type='html'>is there like diminishing rate of return when you spend time with someone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for eg, after a long break overseas and when you return home. mum become extra caring. her home cooked dishes taste heavenly and you tell yourself you are the luckiest girl on earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or maybe workload is school is so stressful that one/two hour spend with your sister feels like a great company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;junior looks extra jubilant upon your arrival home. he wagged his tail extremely vigouriously and I swear he smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then if you were to spend to much time at home, mum complains about how lazy you are. why don't you find work?! since you are so free, why don't you do some housework?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or when you keep hanging out with your sister, she pokes her head everytime your handphone vibrates when you receive a message and she ask "who who? guy or girl? is it you got bf never tell me?."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;junior keeps sleeping if u stay at home the whole day. oh thanks, even the dog thinks i am invisible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;human are such awkward bunch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-637504948970534356?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/637504948970534356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/03/diminishing-rate-of-return.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/637504948970534356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/637504948970534356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/03/diminishing-rate-of-return.html' title='diminishing rate of return'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6503570465740266616</id><published>2010-03-12T22:05:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T23:32:50.029+08:00</updated><title type='text'>=C</title><content type='html'>I am very upset right now. If you can't stand emo post, you can stop reading from here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my first semester grade was fucked up. And I seldom use the word "fuck" and that's how bad it is. I was feeling down right depressed after I compared with my friends. (Sociology: reference group theory explains that people don't actually feel contented with what they have in absolute terms but rather they would be happier if they have more IN COMPARISON to their friends. For someone with perhaps zero ambition, I never felt upset before even if I failed all my subjects. I only felt upset if all my friends got A and I got F. It is the sense of inferiority that upsets me more than the absolute grade.) I told myself I have to work much harder for my second semester but our group just screwed up our last presentation. Maybe I am overreacting because it is a mod I can S/U and presentation only consist on 25%. But the feeling of "I never do my best is really shitty." It was like Sec 1, like JC1, like my first sememster in uni. Apparently, I am a very slow adapter. (My excuse for lousy grades everytime.) Don't ask me what happened. I don't like the blame game when it's over. My only regret is I didn't insist on the preparation that I should have and I know I need it. We reharsed so many times for PW to reach a satisfactory standard. I should have done it again too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really feel very lousy right now. Accompishied nothing in life. I seemed to have no positive quality except "乖". And is that even positive these days anyway? Anyone can be 乖 if they want to. The only thing you need is to like conventional. I rather be smart, witty, fast, quick... and many other "active" characters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw, when I said I really want a boyfriend, I don't really mean it. What I want is someone to marry. I am not interested in a relationship. I don't like wasting my energy in something I see no end. Yes, I am very lonely but I know I would feel worse if I start dating the wrong guy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6503570465740266616?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6503570465740266616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/03/c.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6503570465740266616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6503570465740266616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/03/c.html' title='=C'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-2689770904224985404</id><published>2010-03-02T22:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T22:13:58.211+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Starting point: Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S40cxtgp2nI/AAAAAAAAAFE/rcWSWPugyFA/s1600-h/love-unhappiness.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 358px; height: 158px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S40cxtgp2nI/AAAAAAAAAFE/rcWSWPugyFA/s400/love-unhappiness.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444039164916521586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;='c&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-2689770904224985404?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/2689770904224985404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/03/love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/2689770904224985404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/2689770904224985404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/03/love.html' title='Starting point: Love'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S40cxtgp2nI/AAAAAAAAAFE/rcWSWPugyFA/s72-c/love-unhappiness.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-8695454892066639151</id><published>2010-02-25T01:13:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T01:27:54.550+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Regret?</title><content type='html'>If you could turn back time, would you have done everything differently? Would you have said the things you said? Did you regret the outcome?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't regret. I would have done it all the same. I did what I should do.&lt;br /&gt;Moving forward. I am trying to move forward although I can't see what's infront of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep is the end. I want the end. Night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lqnz5RkZ6s8/R0HNRiGi6DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/J-YbDjAFeEQ/S700/lonely+diddy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 177px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lqnz5RkZ6s8/R0HNRiGi6DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/J-YbDjAFeEQ/S700/lonely+diddy.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-8695454892066639151?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/8695454892066639151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/regret.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8695454892066639151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8695454892066639151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/regret.html' title='Regret?'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lqnz5RkZ6s8/R0HNRiGi6DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/J-YbDjAFeEQ/s72-c/lonely+diddy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-3324596213559916755</id><published>2010-02-22T21:06:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T21:08:39.381+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Annoyed.</title><content type='html'>I know you are nice generally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But why did you tell others to help you do things when you want it so specifically?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I am having PMS now. Please ignore me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-3324596213559916755?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/3324596213559916755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/annoyed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/3324596213559916755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/3324596213559916755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/annoyed.html' title='Annoyed.'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-73736888350505257</id><published>2010-02-20T11:47:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T07:49:58.141+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Facebook r/s status</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S39bWjwc32I/AAAAAAAAAE8/BgQAii0sNaE/s1600-h/in+a+relationship.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S39bWjwc32I/AAAAAAAAAE8/BgQAii0sNaE/s400/in+a+relationship.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440167318000557922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart sinks a little (for myself) everytime I see this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-73736888350505257?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/73736888350505257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/facebook-rs-status.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/73736888350505257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/73736888350505257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/facebook-rs-status.html' title='Facebook r/s status'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S39bWjwc32I/AAAAAAAAAE8/BgQAii0sNaE/s72-c/in+a+relationship.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-993061570203856069</id><published>2010-02-18T20:45:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T21:00:50.772+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy (belated) Valentine</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tzq3srbYEUY&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tzq3srbYEUY&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-993061570203856069?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/993061570203856069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/happy-valentine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/993061570203856069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/993061570203856069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/happy-valentine.html' title='Happy (belated) Valentine'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-4244924708135566473</id><published>2010-02-15T12:08:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T12:18:18.924+08:00</updated><title type='text'>下一站, 幸福 - Episode 16</title><content type='html'>拓也， 不管你怎么想， 你在我心中永远永远是我最重要的朋友。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;朋友？我现在才发现我最讨厌就是你这么说。&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-4244924708135566473?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/4244924708135566473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/episode-16.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4244924708135566473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4244924708135566473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/episode-16.html' title='下一站, 幸福 - Episode 16'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6088574127822321802</id><published>2010-02-06T13:48:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T14:16:09.975+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's go green</title><content type='html'>I would need 2.44 earths if everyone lives the way I do. That's according to &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.myfootprint.org"&gt;www.myfootprint.org&lt;/a&gt;. Of course, the quiz is not perfect since it assumes I have a thermostat at home. The result was rather dissappointing since I thought I am green-er than most Singaporeans I know. I recycle all my papers and walk a few extra metres to the recycle bin near my house. I don't consume snacks (with my own money). I don't travel overseas excluding Malaysia (only because that's my hometown). I don't have a car either, I use public transport all the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, my lecturer don't agree with Al Glore's way of individualizing our ecological footprint. He said that it's more to do with the social structure that is already embidded in the society. Only people with authority can really change how much ecological footprint a society leaves. So perhaps, our local government's top-down approach on environmental issue (and almost every other issues) isn't that bad after all. Within one year, we actually managed to get 100% participation in waste management in industries. The same cannot be said for individual household of course, since implemending tax on waste produced will result in them losing votes to opposition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a rather interesting local green website. Click on &lt;a href="http://www.greenkampong.com/"&gt;GreenKampong!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bVR8ORidEM8&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bVR8ORidEM8&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6088574127822321802?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6088574127822321802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/lets-go-green.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6088574127822321802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6088574127822321802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/lets-go-green.html' title='Let&apos;s go green'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6321133079262577485</id><published>2010-02-05T23:35:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T23:37:28.995+08:00</updated><title type='text'>FML</title><content type='html'>Q: What's worse than spending Valentine's day alone?&lt;br /&gt;A: Spending Valentine's day which happens to be the first day of Chinese New Year alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6321133079262577485?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6321133079262577485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/fml.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6321133079262577485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6321133079262577485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/fml.html' title='FML'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-721039566185960864</id><published>2010-02-01T21:11:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T22:13:54.015+08:00</updated><title type='text'>HTHT</title><content type='html'>I put on my tunic in the morning and wondered when was the last time I last wore it. When it occurred to me it was when I went to meet up this particular friend of mine whom I did not keep in contact now, I wondered whether to have clothes older than your friendship is a good thing or not. Okay, perhaps I should clarify that the friendship didn't officially end but we are both too lazy to keep in contact. Anyway, I have been wondering whether I truely know X at all since we never really had any HTHT session. By the way, almost all my old friends are people who do HTHT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I have learnt through arts camp is that people bond the best when they talk about something personal. I do have a preference to know how my friends feel rather than what happen to them. Then again, too much of personal talk is too exhausting but I still feel that it's good to do that once in a while. I would say the same for any kind of relationship. It's good to know how another person is feeling on the inside before he/she drifts apart from you. I think the reason why I have generation gap with my parents is because we never had any HTHT. To be fair to them, I also understand that it's not their culture to engage in such activity in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson learnt here: Engage in heavy topic once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just took a depression quiz online just now. (I suspect I have mild depression because I don't really see much hope in my future. I am living day to day without concrete plan or vision about what would happen next, but I don't feel suicidal of course. ) Thank Goodness, I only have moderate depression which is said to be rather common among most people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note, Jingyi introduced me to &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HuzxFeuakFM"&gt;Vitas' parody&lt;/a&gt; on youtube. We watched it in Amy's laptop in the arts club room today. Damn funny. =D&lt;br /&gt;Please curb the urge to kick his face on laptop while watching.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-721039566185960864?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/721039566185960864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-put-on-my-clothes-in-morning-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/721039566185960864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/721039566185960864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-put-on-my-clothes-in-morning-and.html' title='HTHT'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-942304513771114845</id><published>2010-01-28T22:56:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T22:59:30.607+08:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S2GmD49DidI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/sWbtxlNy4ms/s1600-h/DSC00078.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S2GmD49DidI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/sWbtxlNy4ms/s320/DSC00078.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431805211343817170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-942304513771114845?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/942304513771114845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post_28.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/942304513771114845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/942304513771114845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post_28.html' title='...'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S2GmD49DidI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/sWbtxlNy4ms/s72-c/DSC00078.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-207294693047936852</id><published>2010-01-24T17:50:00.011+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T23:13:52.605+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mural Painting and Koi bubble tea</title><content type='html'>I thought of doing some volunteering work and I came across an organisation called SG cares in faceook. All you need to do is to go for an orientation (lecture-like), after which you can sign up for any volunteering activity you are interested in. The best part of it is that most activities don't require long term commitment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I participated in this mural painting this morning. Anyway... if you are really interested in mural painting, you can help out Social creatives during Apiril-July period. They really need a lot of help to complete painting 100 walls. Just try googling their organisation for contact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1wY-1w6l9I/AAAAAAAAADg/HIdCjbAxTao/s1600-h/DSC00068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1wY-1w6l9I/AAAAAAAAADg/HIdCjbAxTao/s200/DSC00068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430242718565177298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thinking of using the name "Grace" permanently because Chinese name is really very difficult to remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1wZHTuM_YI/AAAAAAAAADo/Eqn4l6mQ3Vc/s1600-h/DSC00069.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1wZHTuM_YI/AAAAAAAAADo/Eqn4l6mQ3Vc/s200/DSC00069.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430242864045817218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1wZRhs3qcI/AAAAAAAAADw/YVFcVoY_0FU/s1600-h/DSC00070.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1wZRhs3qcI/AAAAAAAAADw/YVFcVoY_0FU/s200/DSC00070.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430243039597013442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1waCOHL1tI/AAAAAAAAAD4/2wE3BlgWjmc/s1600-h/DSC00071.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1waCOHL1tI/AAAAAAAAAD4/2wE3BlgWjmc/s200/DSC00071.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430243876152268498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1waSRQnU_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/E4UyJyz6qwY/s1600-h/DSC00076.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1waSRQnU_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/E4UyJyz6qwY/s200/DSC00076.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430244151875032050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1wa6W73dzI/AAAAAAAAAEI/jYMKBfArwrM/s1600-h/DSC00077.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1wa6W73dzI/AAAAAAAAAEI/jYMKBfArwrM/s200/DSC00077.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430244840593389362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, the bubble tea from Koi cafe in Ang mo kio is really very nice. They even have different degree of sweetness. 25% was just right. =D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-207294693047936852?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/207294693047936852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/01/mural-painting.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/207294693047936852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/207294693047936852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/01/mural-painting.html' title='Mural Painting and Koi bubble tea'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/S1wY-1w6l9I/AAAAAAAAADg/HIdCjbAxTao/s72-c/DSC00068.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-8453706600026419750</id><published>2010-01-12T10:47:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T11:45:52.079+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Academic, emotions and a cheap blogshop. (No relation between them)</title><content type='html'>I need to prioritize my academic first this semester. And I won't let my sister catch me sleeping right before the exam day again (on so many times). Dorothy was laughing when I told her my modules for semester one. I still have no idea why did I choose an ARTS GEM- Japan studies when I was a science student. Don't ask me what my CAP is, because it's beyond imaginably low. I definitely need to be more organize in semester 2. I still have one module to bid and it's the last round already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the reason why I choose sociology over psychology is because sociology deals with aggregate but psychology deals with individual. I am afraid I will start investing personal emotion in future when I work if I take psychology. To cut it short, let's just say my experience in that investment never seemed to pay off very well. It's like stock market with the red "down" arrow. Lately, I even thought of spreading risks when it comes to friends. I need to have a lot of friends to hang out with instead of sticking to just one person, or just one group like I used to. Anyway, I think generally people are nice, but not as in nice until they can prioritize you as their "number one" in their friend list. There are other people more significant like boyfriends, and to a lesser crowd of my age, family. The ideal notion of "best friend" has since sound like a child play to LX at the age of 19. Perhaps "good friends" is a better term to describe people around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's only the "friend" part of my emotional energy, "love" is much worse or maybe better. Because I have nothing to talk about. Or maybe I'm pretending I have nothing to talk about, so I actually believe in what I pretend. Anyway, it's very hard to justify what is "real" when it comes to feelings. Everything feels so real, yet you don't see it, so are they even real? One thing I learned about feelings is that it is only "real" when you verbalise it/write it down, hence I am not going to share much in HTHT sessions anymore. And I never did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To kill the tense moment I always create in my blog... I found a really cheap blogshop online: &lt;a href="http://www.fashionholict.com/index.php"&gt;http://www.fashionholict.com/index.php&lt;/a&gt;. I haven't tried it though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-8453706600026419750?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/8453706600026419750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/01/academics-and-emotion.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8453706600026419750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8453706600026419750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/01/academics-and-emotion.html' title='Academic, emotions and a cheap blogshop. (No relation between them)'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-4584171223998433069</id><published>2010-01-01T08:13:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T08:14:55.881+08:00</updated><title type='text'>First NY resolution I can think of now.</title><content type='html'>Be more private.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-4584171223998433069?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/4584171223998433069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/01/first-ny-resolution-i-can-think-of-now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4584171223998433069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4584171223998433069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2010/01/first-ny-resolution-i-can-think-of-now.html' title='First NY resolution I can think of now.'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-423814505188196848</id><published>2009-12-29T01:27:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T01:37:45.708+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Passion-Time graph</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/Szjq7X2OlcI/AAAAAAAAADQ/Py1Se8m1OB4/s1600-h/graft+of+passion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 294px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/Szjq7X2OlcI/AAAAAAAAADQ/Py1Se8m1OB4/s400/graft+of+passion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420340457275037122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The red curve is the ideal relationship which suggests that time has no effect on passion. I have realised that it only exist in romance novel and believable when you are 15 years old/&lt;. The black curve happens in reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, if only maths was studied this way back in Secondary School.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-423814505188196848?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/423814505188196848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/passion-time-graph.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/423814505188196848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/423814505188196848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/passion-time-graph.html' title='Passion-Time graph'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/Szjq7X2OlcI/AAAAAAAAADQ/Py1Se8m1OB4/s72-c/graft+of+passion.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-1280365305913814106</id><published>2009-12-25T13:49:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T00:04:39.067+08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 2009</title><content type='html'>15/12 (Tues)&lt;br /&gt;I met up with YR, Amanda, CJ, Cat and Mich for my belated birthday celebration. They treated me with free Aston and Ben &amp;amp; Jerry Ice-cream. Twilight was all right... Nothing fantastic except perhaps I feel very sorry for Jacob. He seems much real than Edward to me. Perhaps it's because my love life is much similar to him than Edward. But well, I won't show that like a person that much even if I really feel that way. I have thin skin. I rather people to think that I am cold than to feel sorry for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mich left very early without making much noise except her usual lame comments on the title of "The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus". Note that "Parnassus" is quite difficult to pronounce for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6jU3AimFaz0&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6jU3AimFaz0&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I really like the look of Lily Cole. I don't think she is the conventional kind of pretty but more of the exotic. She reminds me of Devon Aokei in "2 fast 2 furious". If all girls look like that, I would be lesbian too. Then again, I heard people say I have weird taste when it comes to girls.  But neh, I have a guy friend that thinks Luna Lovegood in Harry potter is pretty. WTF! I guess the word "pretty" is very subjective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16/12 (Wed)&lt;br /&gt;Met up with mel and Jon for dinner. I had my birthday dinner as well at some Japanese restaurant which I forgot the name. We have to take out our shoes to sit in the cushion area. The service was good. Food was good. Ambience was good. The portion was pathetic. Mel's eel fish was too hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18/12 (Fri)&lt;br /&gt;I met up with SC to The Central Mall at Clake Quay. Sticky sweet was GOOD. What's even better is that I have a friend for 11 years and we are still quite close. She had recently got attached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22/12 (Tues)&lt;br /&gt;X'mas gathering at Eugene's tuition centre. The food was good. So were the people. =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23/12 (Wed)&lt;br /&gt;Met up with RQ and Dora. QQ mian was good. I like the price and the food taste good too. I am so happy I still have friends that shop at Bugis Street because that's the only place I can afford to spend. I would rather buy things that are good and cheap but brand-less. They really look the same when you wear it. Gucci doesn't make you prettier, but of course it makes you look richer. But since I am really poor, must as well admit that I am. I am so angry with myself for my buying the $25 lace dress on the second floor but the $22 one on the first floor. They look totally different on me though they look almost the same on the outside. How many times must I learn to TRY then BUY. If cannot try, then DON'T BUY. The one I brought home was so tight that it only looks suitable for club which I seldom go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24/12 (Thurs)&lt;br /&gt;X'mas gathering at Godma's house like every other year. The food was good. Hershey, Buffy and Junior were all there. (They are all dogs.) Junior was so embrassing. He peed on the curtain. =X&lt;br /&gt;And shitted there as well. ='C Luckily, his character was rather mild and that's why he's not radicuted. I really dislike it that my mum keep telling my aunt that he's a civilized dog when we didn't train him at all. It's just that his innated personality is friendly and mild. But he's certainly not well-trained at all. I hope I have more non-Christian friends that celebrate X'mas eve. Perhaps I am too old for family gathering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-1280365305913814106?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/1280365305913814106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1280365305913814106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1280365305913814106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/december-2009.html' title='December 2009'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-331984761247024266</id><published>2009-12-23T22:07:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T22:19:23.847+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vanity</title><content type='html'>I feel no happiness except wearing nice clothes and looking into the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;Even that, it only feels "right" not happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fashion-stylist.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/image/Rootstein_mannequin_CocoRocha.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 330px;" src="http://fashion-stylist.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/image/Rootstein_mannequin_CocoRocha.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-331984761247024266?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/331984761247024266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/jaded.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/331984761247024266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/331984761247024266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/jaded.html' title='Vanity'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-4004457197088820142</id><published>2009-12-21T19:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T19:28:31.145+08:00</updated><title type='text'>&lt;3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i46.tinypic.com/qy7cef.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 450px; height: 350px;" src="http://i46.tinypic.com/qy7cef.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just saw this on Le Love. The link is on the right. What a nice patch on a lucky dog, and an even luckier owner. &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-4004457197088820142?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/4004457197088820142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4004457197088820142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4004457197088820142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/3.html' title='&lt;3'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i46.tinypic.com/qy7cef_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-8211195846030978090</id><published>2009-12-20T11:08:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T11:18:49.382+08:00</updated><title type='text'>We are the world</title><content type='html'>I first heard this song during assembly in my primary school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WmxT21uFRwM&amp;hl=en_GB&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WmxT21uFRwM&amp;hl=en_GB&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This video was made in 1985.&lt;br /&gt;Today is 20th Dec 2009, Micheal Jackson died this year. &lt;br /&gt;The video received good response with 21,922,824 views on youtube which was created in Feburary 2005. This video was uploaded on youtube on 16 September 2005.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But poverty in Africa was no better now than back then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's simply too much work to truly eradicate poverty that people just give up doing so...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-8211195846030978090?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/8211195846030978090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/we-are-world.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8211195846030978090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8211195846030978090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/we-are-world.html' title='We are the world'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-1079302844264775891</id><published>2009-12-16T09:39:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T10:20:11.646+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Labeling theory</title><content type='html'>In my sociology class, I was taught that it's the authority who do the labeling and the subordinates who get labeled. But in everyday life, everyone does the labeling and everyone gets labeled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kinda think it's dehumanizing to involve in such act as it takes away certain quality of a person, and add on certain quality a person doesn't have. Take for instant, when someone labels someone who sleeps around a "whore". It immediately assumes that particular person is wicked, sex hungry and everything negative. The person might possess some positive qualities such as being very loving to her family but they are hidden from the public eye. I have this conclusion after reading "Yakuza Moon", a memoir by a daughter of a Japanese mafia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our daily life, perhaps it's not very nice to comment that XXX is an ah-lian, very ang-moh-piah, nerdy... what-so-ever. When you ever really have a HTHT session with everyone of them, it seems that no matter who you are in appearance, you want the same thing in your life. And just like what the chicken soup suggests... someone to love, something to do and something to hope for. (I am discounting some idiots I never really wanted to know because I think their heart only does their obvious function like pumping, but lack the ability to feel for the others.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw, I think conventional school rules that expect everyone to wear in a particular way is faulty. It seems to teach the kids that you must dress in a particular way to be viewed as a "good" kid. And by reinforcing that statement- people will come to the conclusion that teenagers that don't wear in that particular way are "bad" kids. The rigid system ignores the fact that everyone hopes they have quality to be viewed "different" from the others. (Then again, I am just mildly opposing to such act. I don't like people to wear tudong to school, and adding the religious element and creating more room for differences. Well, pros and cons to everything.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, all that was said here is written solely from the "feeling" perspective and I lack the rationalizing act. (Look to the right. My "feeling" is 89%.) It's simply easier to identify a person with their own subculture and at least we get an approximation of who to expect on the surface.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-1079302844264775891?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/1079302844264775891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/labeling-theory.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1079302844264775891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1079302844264775891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/labeling-theory.html' title='Labeling theory'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-303187426240146335</id><published>2009-12-14T20:19:00.010+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T21:11:51.951+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lingxuan's 19th Birthday</title><content type='html'>My sister celebrated it with me with a fruit cake on saturday. I tagged along her date on Sunday (as usual). Ate at some Japanese restaurant which I forgotten the name. The price was relatively cheap. Beats seoul garden and sakura buffet hands down. But I still find it more worth it to eat at Dhoby Ghaut B1 with their $0.99/plate sushi. I think I am one of those people who doesn't know  what is quality food. As long as my stomach accepts it and it is still edible, I am happy. I care more about who I am eating than what is actually on the plate. But well, I have no rights to complain since I did not pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Couple Retreat was fcking funny and their wives is O-M-Gosh-LY HAWT. Who would wanna cheat on their wives when they look like this?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://theaterofmine.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/kristen-bell-couples-retreat_0_0_0x0_400x286.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 205px;" src="http://theaterofmine.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/kristen-bell-couples-retreat_0_0_0x0_400x286.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the only thing that doesn't make much sense in the movie BUT WHO CARES ABOUT REALITY IN MOVIE. I just wanna see good looking people. =D&lt;br /&gt;Btw, I dyed my hair...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SyYxjSfDtXI/AAAAAAAAAC0/E_-D7m9Rea4/s1600-h/Snapshot_20091214.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 330px; height: 247px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SyYxjSfDtXI/AAAAAAAAAC0/E_-D7m9Rea4/s400/Snapshot_20091214.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415070084286887282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very light brown, almost golden. My dad says I look like an ah-lian. My mum says I look like a fake Angmoh. I don't care! I AM JUST HAPPY BEING AN AH-LIAN CAN?! I can do this when I am 19, but not when I am 25 when my profession is most likely going to be a teacher. &lt;s&gt;(I really hate how boring my life is by doing everything "right". The the only thing I got in return is loneliness creeping into my bed every night.)&lt;/s&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met Noel at Mustafa Centre. I can't believe what I have been missing out all my 19 years (exactly) of life! Just like what Jonathan said, this place is good. There are a lot of cheap shoes. Some are pretty ugly but there are really nice one. I brought a pair of wedges home.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SyYzZTcB6GI/AAAAAAAAAC8/guoLbVQ_klg/s1600-h/Snapshot_20091214_3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 317px; height: 238px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SyYzZTcB6GI/AAAAAAAAAC8/guoLbVQ_klg/s400/Snapshot_20091214_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415072111767185506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's only 17.90! I would have brought more if I am slightly richer. =D =D =D&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SyY0QhXCNiI/AAAAAAAAADE/EAcExFjam0I/s1600-h/Snapshot_20091214_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 317px; height: 237px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SyY0QhXCNiI/AAAAAAAAADE/EAcExFjam0I/s400/Snapshot_20091214_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415073060397135394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Bangles. 3 for $10. Go and die Diva... for charging me at outrageous price! The clothes here can't make it though and the new mall, City square sucks like shit in comparison to Mustafa. They also sell perfume (authentic ones), Puma/Everlast shoes and a lot of things I never thought they would sell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Udder ice cream at Novena. It was good man! Their flavours are very localised. There is even Whisky flavour and I swear the alcohol taste is strong. Maybe, someone might get drunk with Ice-cream. Thanks Noel for accompanying me. (Don't think what you are thinking, we are just close friends. It might seems that I am always with different guys but they are merely just friends. I am one of those who can't make friends unless you talk to me one-to-one.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Yeah, I posted this so it doesn't sound like I did nothing for my birthday.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-303187426240146335?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/303187426240146335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/lingxuans-19th-birthday.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/303187426240146335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/303187426240146335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/lingxuans-19th-birthday.html' title='Lingxuan&apos;s 19th Birthday'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SyYxjSfDtXI/AAAAAAAAAC0/E_-D7m9Rea4/s72-c/Snapshot_20091214.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-7222851469159036022</id><published>2009-12-12T15:08:00.010+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T01:38:05.658+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love, 爱, 愛</title><content type='html'>Love 爱&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same word in different language seems to convey a different meaning.&lt;br /&gt;I always feel that "I love you" is over used and over consumerised. It has somewhat lost its meaning. "我爱你" then again sounds so corny and cheena.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember attending this Ernest Wong's workshop. (&lt;s&gt;I forgot his sir name but&lt;/s&gt; he is somewhat like Adam Khoo who earns really a lot of money by giving motivational talks to secondary school kids. Well, I was young and ignorant at that point of time and believed in everything he said. Only to realised I was conned $150 from my Edusave account slightly later in life.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevermind, it did stir some emotion in me then. On the last day of the 3 days workshop, he persuaded us to tell our parents the 3 words. I remembered picking up the phone with the intention to really say it. But the conversation with my mum went like this.&lt;br /&gt;Mum: 很迟了。你要回来了吗？&lt;br /&gt;Me: 要回来了。&lt;br /&gt;Mum：ok.&lt;br /&gt;Me: 妈。。。&lt;br /&gt;Mum：huh?&lt;br /&gt;Me: 我的肚子饿。&lt;br /&gt;Mum: 家里还有面包。&lt;br /&gt;Me: ok. bye bye!&lt;br /&gt;Failed attempt. I thought I would say it when I reach home but my parents were in bed. And the next day... I never did, of course. Yeah, not even up till now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen this Swatch watch that will point to "I love you" in different Languages. It spoilt together with the love when it died. Sad story indeed. But I have heard more "unhappy" endings than "happy" ones in this lifetime. I doubt many married couples are genuinely happy with their "love" life anyway. When love involves money as marriage inevitably will, hardly any love can survive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was very young, like 9 years old. My Godfather told me the 3 words and I mumbled some rubbish back in return. How very smart of me. Perhaps it is just karma that the number of people I love never actually expanded as years go by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"愛--- 爱"&lt;br /&gt;I bet you have heard of how love seems to have lost his heart with time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's time I learn to live for the moment than to be overly concerned for the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-7222851469159036022?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/7222851469159036022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/love.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/7222851469159036022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/7222851469159036022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/love.html' title='Love, 爱, 愛'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-2575593703454635828</id><published>2009-12-09T01:05:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T01:19:50.714+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2 weeks theory (on dating)</title><content type='html'>Someone has tried explaining what 2 weeks theory is to me and I have different version on both of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. When you date someone within 2 weeks and nothing happens, nothing is going to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. 2 weeks is "the honey moon period". Anything that happen within these 2 weeks are like a dream. Sweet while it last, but it will be gone in a blink. After 2 weeks, people will start treating the other half more with their usual self. Some people further expand this theory and say that 6 weeks with nothing goes wrong suggest that this r/s has a potential.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the first theory sucks because it doesn't include insecure souls (which I think is quite common around me).&lt;br /&gt;I subcribe more to the second one.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, both explanations are not mutually exclusive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notice that these days people like theories so much that they have theories for everything?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-2575593703454635828?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/2575593703454635828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/2-weeks-theory-on-dating.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/2575593703454635828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/2575593703454635828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/2-weeks-theory-on-dating.html' title='2 weeks theory (on dating)'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-556847191915506026</id><published>2009-12-08T15:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T15:53:00.583+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who are you?</title><content type='html'>Do you think anyone actually know who they are?&lt;br /&gt;They don't. they just live.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-556847191915506026?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/556847191915506026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/who-are-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/556847191915506026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/556847191915506026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/who-are-you.html' title='Who are you?'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-471704656392655677</id><published>2009-12-07T22:35:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T22:53:15.735+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Little kids in love</title><content type='html'>I was looking at Justin Bieber's music video on youtube. He has this pretty face and his girly voice is really cute. Reminds me of what Aaron Carter was to me when I was 12.  The actual video is Embed disabled. I thought the one with lyrics would do just fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fDzckeC14W0&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fDzckeC14W0&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HvzAcTSBWgw&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HvzAcTSBWgw&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at this age when you see many of your friends breaking up, and your bad love life or the lack of it... you will realise these songs just doesn't make much sense after all. ='c&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-471704656392655677?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/471704656392655677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/little-kids-in-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/471704656392655677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/471704656392655677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/little-kids-in-love.html' title='Little kids in love'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-1755404642404929793</id><published>2009-12-05T13:14:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T01:19:40.004+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't seem like a true sagittarian</title><content type='html'>I don't like it when people judge me according to my horoscope sign. I don't think it gives a very detailed picture. Btw, here is a description of a sagittarius which doesn't really sound like me. Of course, it is true that I have "sagittarius" moment, but usually I don't act like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Sagittarians have a positive outlook on life, are full of enterprise, energy, versatility, adventurousness and eagerness to extend experience beyond the physically familiar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I count myself more of a pessimist than an optimist. And I prefer to follow traditional rules. I dislike changes so much that I always walk the same route in school, in case I get lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Sagittarians are usually modest and are often religious, with a strong sense of morality, though they tend to overemphasize the ethical codes they follow and worship beliefs about God rather than God Himself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am agnostic. I do have a strong sense of morals but they are not related to God. I believe morals are said by humans anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Sagittarians are ardent, sincere and straightforward in love, normally conventional and in control of their sexual natures. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have to agree to this. It's really simple when it comes to love to me. Like means like. Don't like means don't like, there is nothing in the centre. Hence, I am very straight forward. But then again, I think everyone is very in control of their sexual natures as long as they are not drunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the description of a sagittarius sounds very much like an ENFP. Although I had aimed to be an ENFP/ESFP since I was a little kid, I had never been very much like one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Source: Click&lt;a href="http://www.astrology-online.com/sagittar.htm"&gt; here!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-1755404642404929793?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/1755404642404929793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-dont-seem-like-true-sagittarian.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1755404642404929793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1755404642404929793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-dont-seem-like-true-sagittarian.html' title='I don&apos;t seem like a true sagittarian'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-1674865691644928834</id><published>2009-12-01T14:23:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T14:25:45.455+08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is damn funny!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SxS2keVLQ6I/AAAAAAAAACs/p2GLXjIpsMA/s1600/idiotvideo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SxS2keVLQ6I/AAAAAAAAACs/p2GLXjIpsMA/s400/idiotvideo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410149790112236450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-1674865691644928834?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/1674865691644928834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/this-is-damn-funny.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1674865691644928834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1674865691644928834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/12/this-is-damn-funny.html' title='This is damn funny!'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SxS2keVLQ6I/AAAAAAAAACs/p2GLXjIpsMA/s72-c/idiotvideo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6182907096589140421</id><published>2009-11-29T16:44:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T10:59:51.885+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Living for the moment</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I really hope I can exist more like an ESFP than my usual ISFJ. (Btw, I think my ESFP side only comes out when I am drunk which I don't hope happen often.) Btw, ESFP's moto in life is to (live for the moment/the world is a stage). Compare that to an ISFJ's (need to be needed/by your side), an ESFP sounds so much more fun unless you are 40 years old and have finally learn to appreciate the slower pace of life. If I am actually able to do so without numbling myself, I believe I would be a happier person (in the short run) anyway. ESFP kinda reminds me of Lady Gaga who I pretend to dislike to suit my usual image. But neeeehhhh, I love her awkward dressing sense and how bold is she is in revealing her wild side. Something I would never do this life time anyway. And since I don't believe in another lifetime... I have to stuck in my boring shell FOREVER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guys say they like good girls in front of the "guai" ones and tell the bad ones they like whores. They aren't exactly lying because that is the truth- they like both. Which is why "I am a virgin and I am a Whore" sounds so wrong and feels so right. I quoted that from Madonna. It's definitely not something I am able to come out on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Side track a bit. After taking GEK1002 module (Which is Japan studies), I have a changed impression over prostitutes. I am talking about the "willing" ones, not those who are forced. Like Enjo Kosai in Japan. Surprising, there are a lot of emotions involved in prostituting. And it's really not just sex and money, perhaps more a  compensation for the lack of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To end off with Lady Gaga's Bad Romance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sNDyY1ssFNk&amp;hl=en_GB&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sNDyY1ssFNk&amp;hl=en_GB&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6182907096589140421?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6182907096589140421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-am-bullshitting-once-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6182907096589140421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6182907096589140421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-am-bullshitting-once-more.html' title='Living for the moment'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-5853999372042311189</id><published>2009-11-27T10:47:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T11:54:09.275+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Men and Little Miss</title><content type='html'>I have been buying lots of 7 eleven coloured capsules and I kept getting the same characters!&lt;br /&gt;Where is my &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Mr. Small&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Little Miss Shy&lt;/span&gt; and&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; Mr. Bump&lt;/span&gt;? I have given up on getting &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Mr. Strong&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Little Miss Naughty&lt;/span&gt; after I realised it was a commercial scam (or clever plot) to make people buy many capsules. They are SUDDENLY limited editions after a while in which they tell you BUY 5 capsules &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;TO PARTICIPATE&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in the lucky draw for &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Mr. strong &lt;/span&gt;and &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Little Miss Naughty&lt;/span&gt;. Anyway, can some kind souls donate their characters if they don't want it to me? I have extra Mr. Happy, Little Miss Chatterbox and Mr. Nosey up for exchange. Now, I hope that my readers are primary school girls now. ='C&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.popartuk.com/g/l/lgmp0939+mr-bump-little-miss-sunshine-and-friends-mr-men-and-little-miss-by-roger-hargreaves-mini-poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 362px; height: 452px;" src="http://www.popartuk.com/g/l/lgmp0939+mr-bump-little-miss-sunshine-and-friends-mr-men-and-little-miss-by-roger-hargreaves-mini-poster.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-5853999372042311189?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/5853999372042311189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/mr-men-and-little-miss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5853999372042311189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5853999372042311189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/mr-men-and-little-miss.html' title='Mr. Men and Little Miss'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6757399740294850437</id><published>2009-11-23T21:21:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T08:44:41.460+08:00</updated><title type='text'>School rules?</title><content type='html'>I have a soci exam tomorrow and I'm here blogging. T.T&lt;br /&gt;Aiyah, anyway what I am going to write involve a little bit of soci concept as well. I shall take it as I am studying now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been wondering why are secondary school students wearing such ugly uniforms in the name of school rules. I am pretty sure they are no longer labelled as "tidy" with skirts below knees and ugly Bata shoes, but rather "nerd" these days. Even the "guai" kids don't do that anymore. (Blame the mass media like High School musical with Gabriella cycling in mini skirt for this impression.)  Certainly, as society expectation change, perhaps school rules should change!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Tuck in you shirt... (Well, all thanks to you. I want my history all erased.)&lt;br /&gt;I looked back on my sec1/sec2 days and I really want to kill myself for being that "guai" by tucking my blouse all in. I swear I am going to &lt;s&gt;cut all friendship ties with whoever who upload my sec 1/2 class photo on facebook&lt;/s&gt; untag all photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank goodness. IJ came out with the rubber band idea.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://m3moore.files.wordpress.com/2007/11/nerd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 347px;" src="http://m3moore.files.wordpress.com/2007/11/nerd.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Skirt below knees&lt;br /&gt;WELL, DID I WRITE I WAS VERY GUAI? I FOLLOWED ALL THE SCHOOL RULES!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.absoluteastronomy.com/images/encyclopediaimages/j/ja/japanese_school_uniform_dsc06051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 265px;" src="http://images.absoluteastronomy.com/images/encyclopediaimages/j/ja/japanese_school_uniform_dsc06051.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Bata shoes&lt;br /&gt;Commonly known as "Buy And Throw Away". Until I realised it was a German brand.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.shawproperties.sg/Images/Tenant/6/Bata-log.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 107px;" src="http://www.shawproperties.sg/Images/Tenant/6/Bata-log.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Why cannot dye hair?&lt;br /&gt;Conventional colours like brown, red or dark purple are already a norm. Why can't students dye their hair?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Multiple ear studs?&lt;br /&gt;Why not again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking as long as students still filfill their responsibility in studies, perhaps we should re-look at the rules. I have seen quite a few ah bengs who are still relatively guai. They study. And hardly club. And even if they do club, I still don't see anything wrong. Norms and Values are always changing. Why are most Singaporeans still so narrow minded?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again when deviance is redefined as the below. Perhaps I would regret what I wrote today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://batrock.net/animeimages/gh01-01.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 202px;" src="http://batrock.net/animeimages/gh01-01.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6757399740294850437?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6757399740294850437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/school-rules.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6757399740294850437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6757399740294850437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/school-rules.html' title='School rules?'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-8738870129746880319</id><published>2009-11-23T16:18:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T17:18:05.463+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Unification in entertainment?</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2aP9kadkTWY&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2aP9kadkTWY&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E: I think we are going to have a unified music and porn industry next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw, I think Beyonce looks a lot better than lady Gaga. Whites look better than blacks? This is certainly an exception.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-8738870129746880319?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/8738870129746880319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/unification-in-entertainment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8738870129746880319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8738870129746880319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/unification-in-entertainment.html' title='Unification in entertainment?'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-7927305629010557184</id><published>2009-11-21T21:38:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T21:57:26.439+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Running naked</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bbg-aura.gaia.com/photos/48/474839/large/Naked-guys-running.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 293px; height: 247px;" src="http://bbg-aura.gaia.com/photos/48/474839/large/Naked-guys-running.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I told myself that as long as I don't talk about it, write about it and think about it, it didn't happen. It doesn't matter. I live my everyday as usual. Doing the same old thing again as memories fade away. Did it fade away? Not entirely, but I'm pretty sure it's getting blur. Almost like it wasn't there at all. Maybe it was never there. There was no prove it ever existed. Think rational. As long as I appear all right, I would be all right. You are what you think. I am what I think. I am very strong. I have a heart made of steel. It should be done this way. It ought to be this way. Good bye, the non-existent! I am free of you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-7927305629010557184?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/7927305629010557184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/running-naked.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/7927305629010557184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/7927305629010557184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/running-naked.html' title='Running naked'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-515141233466249228</id><published>2009-11-18T22:44:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T01:27:55.497+08:00</updated><title type='text'>When common sense is not so common anymore.</title><content type='html'>Sociology is not about common sense.&lt;br /&gt;I read the the text in the textbook and it looks pretty common sense to me. At least in my own definition of "common sense" which is something like resonable judgement everyone agrees on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I went to check out the dictionary definition of "common sense" in dictionary.com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--EOF_HEAD--&gt;&lt;!--BOF_DEF--&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;n.  Sound judgment not based on specialized knowledge; native good judgment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--//&lt;br /&gt;//--&gt;&lt;!--EOF_DEF--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sounds like a paradox. How is it possible to have sound judgment without specialized knowledge?&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it might hold true in simple society, but not an educated one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-515141233466249228?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/515141233466249228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/when-common-sense-is-not-so-common.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/515141233466249228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/515141233466249228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/when-common-sense-is-not-so-common.html' title='When common sense is not so common anymore.'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-8643441872199414261</id><published>2009-11-15T16:44:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T22:22:41.150+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another emotion-less post.</title><content type='html'>It's pretty peaceful here using Buddhist's funeral concept as compared to the Taolist one few years ago. Hardly anyone shed a tear. I don't know if it's better to have a peaceful farewell (which seems like no one really misses you). But then again, expression doesn't mean intention. A lot of crying might seem like a lot of people miss you but what's on the inside, nobody really knows. Emotion is a personal thing. Some people express it easily while others are less comfortable doing so. I think I belong to the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was supposed to attend my cousin's wedding (Maternal side) on Saturday but there was an obvious change of plan. Anyway, I am not that close to that cousin of mine. It's only a respect towards my elder to attend his wedding and in actual, I have no emotion attached. I always feel like the odd one out among my cousin (Maternal side). What I seek for definitely defers a lot of them and it all boils down to different values. I don't see the point of constant discussion with the only topic- boys and boyfriends. I prefer to talk about people in general, like boys AND GIRLS. And I was totally being a sour grape not to discuss about boyfriends because I never had one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am only 19 and I am bored of life... I don't know why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-8643441872199414261?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/8643441872199414261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/another-emotion-less-post.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8643441872199414261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8643441872199414261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/another-emotion-less-post.html' title='Another emotion-less post.'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-8343788887255792819</id><published>2009-11-12T21:15:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T08:57:06.783+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heaven is in the heart</title><content type='html'>My grandma passed away today. Dad shed a few tears. Mum was being really tactless as usual. Being an agnostic, I think I am not going to see her ever again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think heaven is only a place in the heart. It isn't for people to take it literally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is heaven an ideology? Somewhat like how perfect competition is in economics? Like democracy in politics? Like meritocracy in education? Like what unconditional love is in marriage? Like complete trust in friendship? We all yearn for it. Strive for the best to achieve it. We can be so close to it. But we can never really be there for the best is always yet to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-8343788887255792819?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/8343788887255792819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/heaven-is-in-heart.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8343788887255792819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8343788887255792819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/heaven-is-in-heart.html' title='Heaven is in the heart'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-8833019478864645258</id><published>2009-11-10T20:07:00.013+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T11:45:28.654+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not stoning, I'm thinking.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="FONT-FAMILY: georgia" href="http://laidoffdiary.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/extrovert-v-introvert.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 308px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 179px" alt="" src="http://laidoffdiary.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/extrovert-v-introvert.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Extroverts&lt;/strong&gt; draw energy from &lt;strong&gt;ext&lt;/strong&gt;ernal stimuli (e.g. people and things)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Introverts&lt;/strong&gt; draw energy from &lt;strong&gt;int&lt;/strong&gt;ernal stimuli (e.g. ideas and concepts)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;10-40% &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;(depending on what source you look at) &lt;/span&gt;of the people are introverts, which means we live in a highly extroverts dominent world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few people has told me to be more expressive... you know talk more to attract more guys. Which I thought was quite a silly thing to do. It's like faking someone you are not. What if he likes me just because he likes me being noisy? And in actual fact, I am not that noisy which he has to face it sooner or later. It is as sinful as wearing a push-up to fake a cup C, when someone is in fact a cup A.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Introverts do not mean being anti-social as commonly mistaken by the general public. In fact I have seen pretty sociable introverts around. And vice versa, I have seen extroverts with poor social skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And well, there are really a lot of successful introverts around. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica;font-size:100%;"&gt;Charles Darwin, Albert Einstein, Albert Schweitzer and Mother Theresa have all been identified as introverts by the Keirsey Temperament Inventory. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica;font-size:100%;"&gt;President George Bush Sr., Bill Gates and Warren Buffet, the world’s greatest investor, are introverts who have recently made great contributions. (Source: click &lt;a href="http://www.teach-nology.com/tutorials/teaching/introverts/"&gt;here!&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note to all introverts: Stop cheating in personality test and learn to embrace who you are. (Yes. I was guilty of doing that.)&lt;br /&gt;Note to all extroverts: Being introvert/extrovert doesn't say much about a person's personality. Stop the steorotype with "I don't wanna be friends with introverts. They are so boring!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this post doesn't say Extroverts suck.&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt; &lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,0)"&gt;I believe we are just different.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;If you are interested in seeing some comic strips about introverts. Click&lt;a href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/directory/i/introvert.asp"&gt; here!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-8833019478864645258?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/8833019478864645258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-not-stoning-im-thinking.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8833019478864645258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8833019478864645258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-not-stoning-im-thinking.html' title='I&apos;m not stoning, I&apos;m thinking.'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-169475069679925556</id><published>2009-11-05T21:31:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T22:40:49.276+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My granny and me</title><content type='html'>I am flying back to penang tomorrow as granny was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I heard from cousin lihong that she looked like a different person completely last week when she visited her. When grandpa passed away about 3 years ago, I started to think a lot about the time I have with the rest of my family members no matter how big flaw each of them has. And when it comes to my granny, I was quite an asshole. I found her really annoying last time because she really like to nag like all typical grandma does. I didn't know how my sis was able to hug her everytime she sees her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My granny took care of me the moment I was born until I was 2 years old. I have no recollection of that memory but they are all captured in pictures. And I grew up to look quite like her. Similar to her, I also have a tendency to worry about things the moment I am left alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SvLY5jGZcwI/AAAAAAAAAB8/MwnIUT2IuyU/s1600-h/Untitled-2+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 392px; height: 269px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SvLY5jGZcwI/AAAAAAAAAB8/MwnIUT2IuyU/s320/Untitled-2+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400617386356863746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sign... Whatever that is meant to happen, will ha&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SvLZWhzRWRI/AAAAAAAAACE/nLmgGfVjJas/s1600-h/n712021171_1255081_471.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SvLZWhzRWRI/AAAAAAAAACE/nLmgGfVjJas/s320/n712021171_1255081_471.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400617884224411922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ppen. What matter is what happen this life and I think my granny has a relatively good one. (No effort by me, of course) I love you, ah ma.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-169475069679925556?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/169475069679925556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-granny-and-me.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/169475069679925556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/169475069679925556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-granny-and-me.html' title='My granny and me'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SvLY5jGZcwI/AAAAAAAAAB8/MwnIUT2IuyU/s72-c/Untitled-2+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-5406813455736321743</id><published>2009-11-04T08:20:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T08:42:38.445+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Now that you are "in", do you still remember how it feels to be "out"?</title><content type='html'>The topic I am touching on today is the issue on foreigners in our country. There is already a lot of bloggers criticizing the influx of talented and untalented foreign workers. I am trying to be really neutral down here, no pro-pap, or anti-pap stand. (Which you may criticize that I'm sitting on the fence. But well, everyone is so critical/anal these days that whatever you say get rebutted.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not looking on the government side, or the local side. I think the view of both sides have been presented quite well in the mass media and blogophere. What I am presenting is on the foreigner's side. What's wrong with moving to a land for a better living? What's wrong with working hard to strive for what I want? My parents were just like them back in the 80s. Humble folks coming to a new land to seek for a better life their own country can't offer. Of course, I am sure they get discriminated in one way or another. I have heard my mum complained about it. But I, as the second generation, who have attended local school blended in quite well with the locals. I asked myself "Now that you are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;, do you still remember how it feels to be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;out&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-5406813455736321743?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/5406813455736321743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/now-that-you-are-in-do-you-still.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5406813455736321743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5406813455736321743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/now-that-you-are-in-do-you-still.html' title='Now that you are &quot;in&quot;, do you still remember how it feels to be &quot;out&quot;?'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-7271394326605556871</id><published>2009-11-01T22:46:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T20:15:19.723+08:00</updated><title type='text'>75 questions to kill boredom</title><content type='html'>1. First thing you wash in the shower?&lt;br /&gt;Hair. Most people wash that first I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. What color is your favorite hoodie?&lt;br /&gt;All my hoodies are my fav!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?&lt;br /&gt;Junior? YES!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.Do you plan outfits?&lt;br /&gt;Usually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. How are you feeling RIGHT now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Whats the closest thing to you thats red?&lt;br /&gt;My pencil case&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Do you say aim or a-i-m?&lt;br /&gt;aim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Tell me about the last dream you remember having?&lt;br /&gt;can't remember. probably something insignificant again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Did you meet anybody new today?&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. What are you craving right now?&lt;br /&gt;a close friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Do you floss?&lt;br /&gt;no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. What comes to mind when I say cabbage?&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/extension/Texascrops/brassicacolecrops/cabbage5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 308px; height: 295px;" src="http://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/extension/Texascrops/brassicacolecrops/cabbage5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. When was the last time you talked on aim?&lt;br /&gt;like now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Are you emotional?&lt;br /&gt;very. but i hate to admit it. give me a heart of steel, so i don't feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Would you dance to the taco song&lt;br /&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Have you ever counted to 1,000?&lt;br /&gt;ya. like plus 100 each time. 100, 200... 1000!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it?&lt;br /&gt;Lick it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Do you like your hair?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, but can be better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Do you like yourself?&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Have you ever met a celebrity?&lt;br /&gt;Not the significant ones worth remembering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Do you like cottage cheese?&lt;br /&gt;NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. What are you listening to right now?&lt;br /&gt;Nothing. I work well in absolute silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. How many countries have you visited?&lt;br /&gt;2 only, aside from singapore and malaysia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Are your parents strict?&lt;br /&gt;yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Would you go sky diving?&lt;br /&gt;YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush?&lt;br /&gt;I don't mind but not all excited about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Would you throw potatoes at him?&lt;br /&gt;If he don't mind me throwing potatoes at him, i don't mind doing that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Is there anything sparkly in the room you’re in?&lt;br /&gt;no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. Have you ever been in a castle?&lt;br /&gt;no. T.T&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. Do you rent movies often?&lt;br /&gt;used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Who sits in behind you in your math class?&lt;br /&gt;no more maths class! thank God, i mean thank fate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Have you made a prank phone call?&lt;br /&gt;no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. Do you own a gun?&lt;br /&gt;No, not even a water-gun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. Can you count backwards from 74?&lt;br /&gt;who the hell does that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Who are you going to be with tonight?&lt;br /&gt;on my bed. with junior along if he decides o come in my room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Brown or white eggs?&lt;br /&gt;if brown eggs are "cha ye dan" and white eggs are "xian dan", then brown eggs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Do you own something from Hot Topic?&lt;br /&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. Ever been on a train?&lt;br /&gt;only the MRT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Ever been in love?&lt;br /&gt;i thought i was. maybe i was. i don't know. it doesn't matter now anyway. i like my life now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. Do you have a cell-phone?&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. Are you too forgiving?&lt;br /&gt;no. i love myself more than i love others. i have to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. Do you use chap stick?&lt;br /&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. What is your best friend doing tomorrow?&lt;br /&gt;i like friends that come and go... at least for now. i might change my mind later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. Can you use chop sticks?&lt;br /&gt;yes. i used chop sticks before learning how to use a fork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. Ever have cream puffs?&lt;br /&gt;ya&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. Have you ever seen The Butterfly Effect?&lt;br /&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. What was the last question you asked?&lt;br /&gt;can't remember&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. What was the last CD you bought?&lt;br /&gt;can't remember&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. Boys or girls?&lt;br /&gt;girls. i am more comfortable around my own kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. What is your bus number for school?&lt;br /&gt;96&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51. Is your hair curly?&lt;br /&gt;no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. Last time you cried?&lt;br /&gt;don't remind me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. Ever walked into a wall?&lt;br /&gt;a glass wall, yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. Do looks matter?&lt;br /&gt;more than i used to think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. Have you ever bought anything from Pac Sun?&lt;br /&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. Have you ever slapped someone?&lt;br /&gt;i don't know. can't remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57. Favorite time of the year?&lt;br /&gt;december. christmas deco makes me very happy. i always imagine myself helping santa packed his goodies as a child even though i know he don't exist. Gerald daddy always make what's fake comes alive and learned to do it even if he wasn't around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58. Favorite color?&lt;br /&gt;all the colours around the world. it's variety that makes this world a beautiful place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;59. Are you sarcastic?&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60. Do you have any tattoos?&lt;br /&gt;No. but i hope i can get one with Mr. Happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61. The last person you held hands with?&lt;br /&gt;i don't hold hands. sweaty palms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62. Do you sleep with the TV on?&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63. Where was your default picture taken at?&lt;br /&gt;facebook? in orchard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;64. Do you hate or dislike more than 3 people?&lt;br /&gt;yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. Do you like your life right now?&lt;br /&gt;probably the best i have in years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66. How often do you talk on the phone?&lt;br /&gt;not very often. don't like to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;67. What is your favorite animal?&lt;br /&gt;dogs. more specifically junior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;68. What was the most recent thing you bought?&lt;br /&gt;a red dress&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;69. Do you have good vision?&lt;br /&gt;i am a blind bat without contacts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70. Can you hula hoop?&lt;br /&gt;used to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;71. Could you ever forgive a cheater?&lt;br /&gt;no. once a cheater, always a cheater.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;72. Do you have a job?&lt;br /&gt;just teaching tuition&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;73. Can you handle the truth?&lt;br /&gt;i have to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74. What are you wearing?&lt;br /&gt;arts camp shirt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;75. Have you ever crawled through a window?&lt;br /&gt;no... i am "humji"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-7271394326605556871?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/7271394326605556871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/75-questions-to-kill-boredom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/7271394326605556871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/7271394326605556871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/11/75-questions-to-kill-boredom.html' title='75 questions to kill boredom'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-2976546409638181137</id><published>2009-10-31T11:58:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T12:22:39.830+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Say no to stick and carrot.</title><content type='html'>I was reading a book borrowed from a friend called "irrationality" by stuart sutherland. It exposes some of the common mistakes parents and teachers do when it comes to teaching values.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know that offering material rewards for performing something actually devalues the task one is doing? For example, it is common to hear mothers telling their children that if he scores XX marks during the exams, she would reward her with a bike. It might work in the short run in helping the child to achieve good results but not in the long term for the thing the child now values is the bike rather than the process of learning. My primary 1 tuition kid is going to say goodbye to all her pink stickers as a reward when she do her work now.&lt;br /&gt;(Please note that I wrote MATERIAL rewards and that does not include praises which are not a material. And also it does not mean abolish all gifts to your child. It is still good to shower gifts at times to show your love and knowing that he/she wants it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same goes for threathening. it works in the short run, but not the long run. If the threat is now removed, a child is likely to choose the "wrong" deed now with the freedom of choice. For the forbbiden fruit taste sweeter. (Back to the story of Adam and Eve, I think God did not study psychology. He shouldn't have told the two of them that eating the apple, they will die. If he never said anything about the apple tree, perhaps Eve wouldn't bother eating it at all.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.toonpool.com/user/4445/files/the_carrot_and_the_stick_514075.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 343px; height: 191px;" src="http://www.toonpool.com/user/4445/files/the_carrot_and_the_stick_514075.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-2976546409638181137?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/2976546409638181137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/say-no-to-stick-and-carrot.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/2976546409638181137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/2976546409638181137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/say-no-to-stick-and-carrot.html' title='Say no to stick and carrot.'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-933016056004494729</id><published>2009-10-28T22:51:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T22:53:56.618+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyone is your teacher- but selective learning.</title><content type='html'>Don't take every word a person say but you can take some of it. It's like why you only eat the apples of an apple tree but leave the leaves and branches behind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-933016056004494729?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/933016056004494729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/everyone-is-your-teacher-but-selective.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/933016056004494729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/933016056004494729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/everyone-is-your-teacher-but-selective.html' title='Everyone is your teacher- but selective learning.'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-8789834807577285669</id><published>2009-10-25T21:22:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T21:57:26.634+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am agnostic but that doesn't mean I don't believe in doing good.</title><content type='html'>I find it very hard to believe in a God or anyone with higher power. Although, I think that life would be much easier if I really believe in one, but because don't see him at all, it just seems unbelievable. Religion is a wonderful human construct that brings social stability to the society, and comfort and warmth to individuals. I also believe that many has found their life partners in church, hence it is a great institute in creating love. &lt;3 Of course, I can understand people with different views for I had almost and nearly believe in a God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But currently I think religion is passe. There are laws and government to bring social stability now. And the existance of many other institutes can also help us find our life partners. Eg schools, workplaces, even clubs etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also don't believe we need a religion to do good. Most religion believes in an after life, which I find it hard to believe either. When a person's heart stop beating, he dies and become nothing. And because of the fact that people only live once, the more we should do good things to benefit the society. It's because that we only have one chance to do good, the more we should do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I find that if we do good only to secure a place in heaven, perhaps that's still self interest as well. Maybe we can do good and don't expect much in return. Perhaps a little bit of gratitute from others is nice enough to make the help worth while. Love need to be expressed as well, please say "thank you" next time you feel it. Or else no one will know you really feel grateful. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(I have been telling my mum a lot of times, and she still don't get it. But I hope others do.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-8789834807577285669?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/8789834807577285669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-am-agnostic-but-that-doesnt-mean-i.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8789834807577285669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8789834807577285669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-am-agnostic-but-that-doesnt-mean-i.html' title='I am agnostic but that doesn&apos;t mean I don&apos;t believe in doing good.'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-1197294975156111595</id><published>2009-10-24T10:40:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T23:36:27.310+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Men are from Mars</title><content type='html'>I think most guys look way cuter when they are upset or vulnerable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they are happy, they like to ego-boost and act like a boss, pointing direction here and there, laugh at other people who are slightly weaker, make cheers which sound funny but very hurting to another person being targetted, act like they know a lot when it comes to sex when everything was learned from porn and they have no personal experience. And I find that the CMI ones are usually those that boost the most because they have to prove their desirability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when guys are upset, they think more. Bring in more about their families and friends and what shitty things they have done to hurt their love ones. And I would try to cheer them up... and when I successfully done it, I hoped I didn't do so because they turn back to the guy I described in the second paragraph. &lt;a href="http://rlv.zcache.com/if_men_are_from_mars_womens_t_shirt-p235090109612920489uhf1_400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 274px; height: 235px;" alt="" src="http://rlv.zcache.com/if_men_are_from_mars_womens_t_shirt-p235090109612920489uhf1_400.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-1197294975156111595?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/1197294975156111595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/men-are-from-mars.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1197294975156111595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1197294975156111595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/men-are-from-mars.html' title='Men are from Mars'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-5701588723186981564</id><published>2009-10-23T08:52:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T21:20:04.030+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's the most exciting (meaning, naughty) things I have done?</title><content type='html'>One of the question that was asked in star blog. Being a piece of boring shit, here is my list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Err... I steal passport to go Malaysia. And was caught red handed because I forgot to swtich off my phone. The Malaysia line's go "toooo... tooo" instead of Singapore's "ring ring". My mum who happens to be a Malaysian found that out. Now, my passport is confiscated. T.T&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I left my dog's poo on the grass patch. My dog shitted 2 poos of shit in different areas. I threw the first bag of shit away and left the second one there. Hey, that's not my fault!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I went clubbing. And that's like a social activity nowsadays.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;AHHHHHHHHHHH! I am so boring!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-5701588723186981564?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/5701588723186981564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/whats-most-exciting-meaning-naughty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5701588723186981564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5701588723186981564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/whats-most-exciting-meaning-naughty.html' title='What&apos;s the most exciting (meaning, naughty) things I have done?'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6283283175826524843</id><published>2009-10-21T21:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T21:33:45.324+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happiness is merely about contentment.</title><content type='html'>I don't know if you would laugh if I tell you who was the one who taught me this greatest thing in life. But it's none other than my dog, Junior. I swear he does smile and he gets extremely happy with just three things- food, walk walk and everyone to be at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I read the same sentence from a newspaper, I would say PAP is again trying too hard to make us be easily contented, so that we shut up and don't disturb them from implementing their policy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I heard it from my own parents, I would say they are trying to make me be easily satisfied, so they can don't buy things for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that was what I learned from my dog whose only wish is more food, more walk walk and everyone to be at home. He really doesn't want much in life, just the 3 simple things. And hence I made up my mind to stay contented with a few things currently- good friends and family who understand me, have a small amount of money to buy clothes, eat well, sleep well, a good pass in school and my 2 tuition kids to improve in their studies. Any other thing is a bonus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6283283175826524843?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6283283175826524843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/happiness-is-merely-about-contentment.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6283283175826524843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6283283175826524843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/happiness-is-merely-about-contentment.html' title='Happiness is merely about contentment.'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-5393679429502564012</id><published>2009-10-20T17:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T17:25:09.231+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate politics.</title><content type='html'>One of the reason why I hate history is because it is a subject which I learned about the ugliest men. One such example is Mao Zhe Dong who perhaps have done great things in China in the earlier part of his life but he went on to playing God. It is really disgusting to see the ignorant villagers praying to a statue of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also learned quite a bit of the ugly side in PAP. Like LKY being a big MCP and maybe even racist. Not that it has influence my local political stance, for if my parents were to stay in Malaysia, I don't know who I would become today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's shocking the extent in which people can go to protect their own rights, sometimes in the expense of someone else and they would still without a doubt think that they are doing the "right" thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sign, politics exists even in everyday's life. Like some parents trying too hard to dominate even on their own children, which in the end has an adverse effect on their relationships. Would't it be better to throw away your ego and go down to your child level and try to understand them?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-5393679429502564012?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/5393679429502564012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-hate-politics.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5393679429502564012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5393679429502564012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-hate-politics.html' title='I hate politics.'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-5538130580524769698</id><published>2009-10-16T15:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T15:52:55.491+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex/ Gender and Sexuality</title><content type='html'>When I say you look gay, please understand what I mean before getting offended. Aha, I didn't know how to explain myself but now I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sex- Your biological self. Meaning your reproductive organs or genetics (XX/XY chromosomes) which define you as a boy/girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gender- Feminine/ Musculine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sexuality- Sexual preference of your partner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is perfectly possible to be a boy (means the thing inside your pants.), be feminine (perhaps being a little more sensitive and dress better) and still like the opposite gender. =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next time, when others say you look like a gay, you can be perfectly proud of it and say "that's because I dress well and care for others. Thank you very much."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn obvious who is this post for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-5538130580524769698?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/5538130580524769698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/sex-gender-and-sexuality.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5538130580524769698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5538130580524769698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/sex-gender-and-sexuality.html' title='Sex/ Gender and Sexuality'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-2396932915666493431</id><published>2009-10-14T20:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T20:52:22.363+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My handwriting is not ugly</title><content type='html'>"Your handwritting looks fcking ugly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ugly" is socially constructed.&lt;br /&gt;It is an opinion defined by majorities in the society.&lt;br /&gt;But what is popular and agreed upon by society doesn't mean it is accurate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if I believe it is beautiful without caring the opinion of others, my handwriting would really be beautiful. =D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-2396932915666493431?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/2396932915666493431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-handwriting-is-not-ugly.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/2396932915666493431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/2396932915666493431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-handwriting-is-not-ugly.html' title='My handwriting is not ugly'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-1550973699197011772</id><published>2009-10-11T09:49:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T10:03:33.087+08:00</updated><title type='text'>你生在那里， 就留在那里咯！</title><content type='html'>I tried very hard to search for a religion that suits me. I read about Buddhism, Taoism, Christianity and a little on Islamic as well. Each one makes sense to me. I told my mum I don't find any religion more superior than any other. And for once, she didn't start her usual ego-defence about the superiority of Buddhist teaching. She said, "你生在那里， 就留在那里咯！"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the reason why people remain in their religion is due to familiarity, to continue what was done in the previous generation. And I got the same idea from Mitch Albom's new book, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Have little faith. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-1550973699197011772?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/1550973699197011772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1550973699197011772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1550973699197011772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/blog-post.html' title='你生在那里， 就留在那里咯！'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-4980131467295967778</id><published>2009-10-10T19:45:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T20:12:53.501+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My wedding</title><content type='html'>Although I said I like to be independent, I still think of getting married. So I can wear nice wedding dress. &lt;3  By the way, I dislike traditional chinese wedding where the bride must travel from her own house to the groom's house. Like wtf, who wants to wear so nice and walk around in a place where you see everyday. And the preparation work for traditional wedding is so troublesome. The purpose of traditional wedding is simply to please the elderly which I find totally pointless. The purpose of union between two people is supposed to be between them. I think honeymoon itself feels more like an actual marriage than the "jin-cha" and the wedding dinner. I am going to have my wedding dinner at my house, with my mum cooking and save money for honeymoon. =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mum said I am a snob and keep picking flaws in guys as if I am perfect. But I am very sure I am not. It just happened that guys that ever confessed to me are super traditional, and the last thing I want to be is to stay at home and be housewife. I want to travel abroad every year after my marriage with my hubby because I didn't get to do so when I was a kid. I don't want to sit on the crouch, watching national geographical and curse God why I am not born in a wealthier family anymore. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.weddings-abroad.com/images/mauritius_wedding_dinarobin_01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 462px; height: 392px;" src="http://www.weddings-abroad.com/images/mauritius_wedding_dinarobin_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear God,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't need a prince. Just a boy who earns enough for himself, love me and likes liberty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours faithfully&lt;br /&gt;Lingxuan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-4980131467295967778?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/4980131467295967778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-wedding.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4980131467295967778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4980131467295967778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-wedding.html' title='My wedding'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-4408598701721449669</id><published>2009-10-09T10:22:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T10:44:25.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Abortion and Down syndrome</title><content type='html'>I had this conversation with my friends back in JC last year, where we talked about the issue of abortion. I was shocked to find that most of my classmates (except my closest friend) didn't agree with me. Here is the question that we discussed on:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you happen to know that your baby is down syndromic, and it's still quite safe to abort it, would you do so?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My question was not yes, but "duh". Why bring a child into this world knowing the fact that he does not have the potential to bring you happiness? Worse yet, even in your grave, you still have to think about his well-being. Like who is going to take care of him. Why devote the resources to bring up a child who is useless to the society, when you can adopt a perfectly normal one. I don't believe in happiness with extra burden. The joy of bringing a child up is to watch him grow and mature, to guide him in learning, to teach him to love by loving him. Why bring up a child who doesn't know you love him, who whines and pees in his pants at the age of 13. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so emotional about this is beacuse I once saw a down syndromic child with his parents. He was a few years younger than me. He called me "kor kor" which means "brother" in English because I tied up my hair and he thought I was a guy. He still need his parents' help to go to the loo. Even Junior (my dog) is perfectly capable of peeing himself by raising his hind leg and aim at the bushes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-4408598701721449669?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/4408598701721449669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/abortion-and-down-syndrome.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4408598701721449669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4408598701721449669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/abortion-and-down-syndrome.html' title='Abortion and Down syndrome'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-82063960651488982</id><published>2009-10-08T21:11:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T09:24:10.175+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Girlicious</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAivOzJhcHI"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAivOzJhcHI&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCBEnCAc2xY"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCBEnCAc2xY&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many pussycat dolls do this market need? &lt;br /&gt;People like originality.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-82063960651488982?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/82063960651488982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/girlicious.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/82063960651488982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/82063960651488982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/girlicious.html' title='Girlicious'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-179957434949288609</id><published>2009-10-08T15:14:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T19:00:02.451+08:00</updated><title type='text'>One person down in my hate list</title><content type='html'>I just found out a good point about someone I dislike initially. Let's just say I think he is definitely a "thinking" person. What I meant by "thinking" is someone who prefers to do things that work effectively, rather than doing things that feel good. The latter is what I define as "feeling" people. The class system is really obvious in NUS. You can judge where a person comes from just by his dressing and speech. I can somewhat tell that this guy comes from a relatively wealthy family, so it's probably harder for him to comprehand the people from the lower class. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I still see signs of him trying to be nice despite the fact that he held prejudice to a particular race. You may say that he's just doing that for show but even if it's sort of hipocrisy, at least it makes others feel good. Comparing to some one who is snobby and express his snobbiness, I would definitely prefer the way this person deal with others he held prejudice against. What you think is one thing, but what you express is another. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world needs diversification. There's a variety of people, accept and tolerate whoever you can tolerate. Of course, your values might be obstructing some people from entering your social life, but sometimes it is unneccessary to take things so personally. =D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-179957434949288609?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/179957434949288609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-person-down-on-my-hate-list.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/179957434949288609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/179957434949288609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-person-down-on-my-hate-list.html' title='One person down in my hate list'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-577664884722540789</id><published>2009-10-06T17:01:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T17:02:24.999+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I WANNA TRAVEL!</title><content type='html'>I wanna travel. T.T&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only stay at home and watch national geographic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FML!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-577664884722540789?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/577664884722540789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-wanna-travel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/577664884722540789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/577664884722540789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-wanna-travel.html' title='I WANNA TRAVEL!'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-5869152978689692966</id><published>2009-10-06T05:25:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T05:59:12.879+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I like to be strong (despite how I look)</title><content type='html'>I went on to tell everyone I want a boyfriend in uni. But after a while, I change my mind again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of have this feeling that people who actually show any interest for me would expect to be a gentle and demure girlfriend. Accompanied by my "blur" look and the lack of directional sense, perhaps I can't blame anyone for having that impression. I have tried very hard over the years to be more extrovertive and verbal, but each time I did it, it makes me feel miserable. And I will go back to thinking, maybe it's best to accept myself for who I am. I have to say I have made considerable success in being slightly more expressive, but to be honest, I dislike being expressive. Unless there is an absolute need to talk, I wouldn't talk. I guess my friends in University wouldn't know what I am talking about, but anyone who has seen me back in secondary school would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Myer Briggs personality profile says that ISFJ are the nurturer. In layman terms, the ideal job they can do is to be a housewife (Personal interpretation) or a early childhood teacher. I don't mind being the latter, because at least that would have given me a source of income and be self reliant. The thought of being a housewife, even if it is to some very rich man irks me. I would not let anyone have the chance to come back home and ego boost about their economic worth the way my dad and so many others did. (Don't get me wrong, I am not saying it's my dad's fault, I see him as a man under society's pressure of fulfilling his duty as the provider. In fact, he is overly responsible in playing his gender role. I'm sure he did his best with his knowledge and perhaps he didn't realise the downside.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And people, please do not like me with an intention of wanting to take care of me. I am sick of being taken as the "passive" in this family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-5869152978689692966?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/5869152978689692966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-like-to-be-strong-despite-how-i-look.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5869152978689692966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5869152978689692966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-like-to-be-strong-despite-how-i-look.html' title='I like to be strong (despite how I look)'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6736430488052881082</id><published>2009-10-04T23:13:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T23:22:07.413+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Judgement</title><content type='html'>What's commonly heard:&lt;br /&gt;You have never been in my shoes, who are you to judge me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's rarely heard:&lt;br /&gt;I have never been in your shoes, who am I to judge you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Akon's Gangsta Bop:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;I don’t know me you don’t know you you don’t know the history I got on these streets&lt;br /&gt;Only if you see what my eyes have seen Then youll understand why im surrounded by G’s&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6736430488052881082?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6736430488052881082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/judgement.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6736430488052881082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6736430488052881082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/judgement.html' title='Judgement'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-5898847434279044171</id><published>2009-10-04T17:40:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T07:10:23.498+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The downside of myself</title><content type='html'>ISFJ is described as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Its true until they get so stressed that the ENTP Shadow comes out. Then they just become arguementative and utterly inflexible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most ISFJ's won't admit to being needy. They'll even pretend not to need any kind of help back. Don't believe it. The ISFJ needs as much back as s/he gives (and then some).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They'll rarely thank you for it or let you into their little inner world but they sure will shower you with gifts and help whenever you need it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just whatever you do, don't ever let them feel used. Resentment will build and you won't know about it until its waaaay too late.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have experienced this before. T.T&lt;br /&gt;When I am saying I'm not that nice, I'm not trying to be humble.It is really true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-5898847434279044171?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/5898847434279044171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/downside-of-myself.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5898847434279044171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/5898847434279044171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/downside-of-myself.html' title='The downside of myself'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-4359686727400908618</id><published>2009-10-04T08:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T08:30:36.588+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 10 popular cat breeds</title><content type='html'>I realised I have some misconception about cats. I thought all cats are self absorbed and overly independent (take a look at hdb cats and you would know what I'm talking about). But it really isn't the case, thanks to Animal planet for my new found knowledge. Click &lt;a href="http://animal.discovery.com/videos/top-10-popular-cat-breeds/"&gt;here!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-4359686727400908618?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/4359686727400908618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/top-10-popular-cat-breeds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4359686727400908618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4359686727400908618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/top-10-popular-cat-breeds.html' title='Top 10 popular cat breeds'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-8597383512666980094</id><published>2009-10-03T19:52:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T20:01:44.255+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coldplay -- Viva la Vida</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_b1rXfEgMQA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_b1rXfEgMQA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only coldplay song which I like. You know one thing I like about this kinda song is that it says nothing but everything. And what is interpretated by one person might not be the same as another. =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems to talk about a fallen king. Maybe he was the head of a gangster group and he longer rule. Though he no longer rule, he is calm and happy, knowing he had actually lived a life. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, the realist in me says I might just be talking cock.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-8597383512666980094?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/8597383512666980094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/coldplay-viva-la-vida.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8597383512666980094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/8597383512666980094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/coldplay-viva-la-vida.html' title='Coldplay -- Viva la Vida'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6393796987212364292</id><published>2009-10-02T14:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T14:46:37.900+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gender role</title><content type='html'>I dislike gender role. ='C&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to make my kid kick soccer and dance ballet whether or not he/she is a boy or girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6393796987212364292?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6393796987212364292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/gender-role.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6393796987212364292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6393796987212364292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/gender-role.html' title='Gender role'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6725254716719637875</id><published>2009-10-01T21:20:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T21:21:41.294+08:00</updated><title type='text'>National Service</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AK3wi2Tt4Pc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AK3wi2Tt4Pc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6725254716719637875?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6725254716719637875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/national-service.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6725254716719637875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6725254716719637875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/10/national-service.html' title='National Service'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-2163558071536877193</id><published>2009-09-29T14:49:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T15:04:25.742+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jason Mraz: Love For a Child</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oQFo02x64sk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oQFo02x64sk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I teared listening to this. Such an irony. What his parents did doesn't seem to fit its title "love for a child" at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I guess sometimes things doesn't need to make sense. You only need to feel it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-2163558071536877193?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/2163558071536877193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/jason-mraz-love-for-child.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/2163558071536877193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/2163558071536877193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/jason-mraz-love-for-child.html' title='Jason Mraz: Love For a Child'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-1318405646543806544</id><published>2009-09-29T00:56:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T14:36:37.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Does God exists?</title><content type='html'>I pondered over whether Buddhism is true when I was a kid. Some adults around me tried too hard to make me believe in it. They forbid me from going to church. In which their action makes me further question Buddhism. If it really is so good, perhaps there is no need to fear I will find anything better. Ego. People often choose to believe what they have is the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That does not mean I am Christian either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YoIDjj86fwI&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YoIDjj86fwI&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like this argument. But looking from another angle, it does not suggest Einstein believe in God. The very same arguement can be used to say that "good" does not exist. And if you actually do a research on Einstein, it appears that he's agnostic or an atheist. Click &lt;a href="http://www.skeptically.org/thinkersonreligion/id8.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Sociology textbook:&lt;br /&gt;In Science, seeing is believing.&lt;br /&gt;In everyday life, believing is seeing.&lt;br /&gt;To believe in any religion, we need to have faith. Not evidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of people with faith always make the world sound so beautiful. Others say they live in a lie. But I say, at least that's beautiful lie. I would rather marry someone with a bit of faith than none at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-1318405646543806544?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/1318405646543806544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/does-god-exists.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1318405646543806544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/1318405646543806544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/does-god-exists.html' title='Does God exists?'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-49593982599468113</id><published>2009-09-26T10:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T11:20:34.173+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My dog with an unknown background.</title><content type='html'>I often wonder what breed Junior is and whether we got conned or not. The pet shop keeper told us that Junior is a Shih Tzu crossed Chihuahua. But judging from Junior's size, there isn't much Chihuahua traits. Here is my beloved dog (who only recognise me as the owner when my sister is not around) today morning:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/Sr2GTwC2kuI/AAAAAAAAABM/Aspkb9tvHLI/s1600-h/Photo172.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/Sr2GTwC2kuI/AAAAAAAAABM/Aspkb9tvHLI/s320/Photo172.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385608403277484770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caught Sleeping in my bed! In the Centre somemore!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to google search for some Shih tzu- Chihuahua crossed, to see if there is any Junior-look alike. And I found one: click &lt;a href="http://www.dogbreedinfo.com/s/shichipictures.htm"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;! Scroll down to the centre of the page and there's a Kasper. The webbie doesn't allow me to steal their image.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I brought Junior to some pet shop someday and the pet shop owner claimed that he is not Shih Tzu-Chihuahua crossed, but Shih Tzu- Jack Russel. So I went on to search for some Shih Tzu- Jack Russel online too. Here is the search result with Ju&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thepetstorechambersburg.com/images/jkshih%206643.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 220px;" src="http://thepetstorechambersburg.com/images/jkshih%206643.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;nior resemblance:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.allpawsgrooming.co.uk/photo_gallery/images4/louie1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 136px; height: 181px;" src="http://www.allpawsgrooming.co.uk/photo_gallery/images4/louie1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZfjbJ1y4MCk/SCSVx11KAXI/AAAAAAAABUo/6RrM-axSngU/s400/IMG_5481.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 197px; height: 130px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZfjbJ1y4MCk/SCSVx11KAXI/AAAAAAAABUo/6RrM-axSngU/s400/IMG_5481.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I say this is not a very fruitful study? There is a probability of either one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-49593982599468113?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/49593982599468113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-dog-with-unknown-background.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/49593982599468113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/49593982599468113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-dog-with-unknown-background.html' title='My dog with an unknown background.'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/Sr2GTwC2kuI/AAAAAAAAABM/Aspkb9tvHLI/s72-c/Photo172.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-318043046358157802</id><published>2009-09-25T23:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T23:29:04.042+08:00</updated><title type='text'>There is no good without evil</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U5J38hIQ6VY/SP5XuDBb-uI/AAAAAAAACXs/7vkHveg1ue8/s400/angel-devil.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 156px; height: 156px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U5J38hIQ6VY/SP5XuDBb-uI/AAAAAAAACXs/7vkHveg1ue8/s400/angel-devil.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://trustedadvisor.com/public/image/yinYang.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 140px;" src="http://trustedadvisor.com/public/image/yinYang.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I met someone really different. I have never seen anyone like that before. It was against my value system to accept him. But perhaps the existence of such people makes me look good. As everything is seen in relative terms. There is no good without evil. There is no me, without him. If I were to be put in an island where everyone is as nice as Mother Teresa, I would be the evil "bitch".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To every assholes out there, thanks for making me look good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-318043046358157802?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/318043046358157802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/there-is-no-good-without-evil.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/318043046358157802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/318043046358157802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/there-is-no-good-without-evil.html' title='There is no good without evil'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U5J38hIQ6VY/SP5XuDBb-uI/AAAAAAAACXs/7vkHveg1ue8/s72-c/angel-devil.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-7572358104212564176</id><published>2009-09-24T14:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T09:06:21.628+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dating a close friend</title><content type='html'>"Don't shit in your own backyard" was one of the common phrase I heard back in Secondary School when one of my friend thought of dating another close friend. Not that it matters to me back then because I was diagnosed with the inability to fall in love. Anyway, it certainly set me to think about whether it is a good idea to date a close friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;If it fails, you still have to see him in all your class gatherings. You cannot bitch about him, because your friends are his friends and they don't know who to side. Worse come to worse, you might end up receiving a wedding invitation 10 years later and you are not the bride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Imagine doing anything intimate with your close friend. It is incest! Like wtf, I have seen him in diapers. So yeah, be ready to stay a virgin till you are thirty. And even after that, sex wouldn't be as fun because it sounds disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;The Pros:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;You already know all his flaws. And if you can still like him for that, it must be true love. I would rather get into a relationship knowing what to expect, than knowing it later to feel utterly disappointed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I think my only pro point is much stronger than my two con points. First of all, why get into a relationship when you are not confident that it would last? (rebuttal for first con point) And second, orgasm is too short to be really significant in a relationship. (I read this from 8 days, I don't have orgasm before. And that is my rebuttal for second con point) Come to think about it, if  you want something that last, although it mind be a little dull, maybe just date a close friend. Perhaps it's not "shitting in your own backyard", but rather staying in where you are comfortable and familar with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-7572358104212564176?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/7572358104212564176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/dating-close-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/7572358104212564176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/7572358104212564176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/dating-close-friend.html' title='Dating a close friend'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6904101675080276551</id><published>2009-09-23T08:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T09:00:52.833+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Care Corner Family Service Centre (Marsiling)</title><content type='html'>I went for some social work talk yesterday at Care Corner Family Service Centre (Marsiling). I am not going to lie and say it's an eye opener for me, knowing that such poverty exists while I live in another world of the rich. But rather I see the existence of relative poverty all my life and what I learnt through it is that few living in it has any spared capacity for kindness. What came as a shock was that there were 22 social workers (all degree holders) just in that FSC willing to take up the job. I don't find it shocking at all that the turn over rate for social workers is very high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did a case study on someone and it was a plain headache for me. Imagine you have to deal with few hundreds. It is crazy. As if I don't have much problems on my own to worry about. What is the best is in that case study, the clients seem to take the social workers for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my family falls into the "lower-middle income" which I think is the worse income bracket of all because you are rich enough to be taxed and not poor enough to qualify for most subsidy. Luckily for me, my parents have their priorities right when it comes to resource allocation at home. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading Mitch Albom's one more day and I feel quite guilty towards my mum. It's not that she is a bad person. In fact, I have no doubt her intentions are usually good, it's just the method she uses is way too harsh and too extreme.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6904101675080276551?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6904101675080276551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/care-corner-family-service-centre.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6904101675080276551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6904101675080276551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/care-corner-family-service-centre.html' title='Care Corner Family Service Centre (Marsiling)'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-4935964542008451208</id><published>2009-09-21T10:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T11:38:28.167+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Friend</title><content type='html'>I was reading through a friend's blog post on "best friend". It is interesting to note that almost everyone at some point of his life has met one. Whether or not it last, I guess it's not so important afterall. At the very least, I had been there. What I did wrong all my life when it comes to friend is perhaps having an expectation on people I call friends. And when my best friend didn't meet that expectation I set on her, I started to question our friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First and foremost, let me touch on the expectation I set. My sister, being real lucky, managed to find one. They did all the crazy things together at their youth, and shared bucket of tears at times of sorrows. Here is one gift my sister's best friend gave her:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SrbtdXB7HYI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ePM7bOalECc/s1600-h/Photo167.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SrbtdXB7HYI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ePM7bOalECc/s320/Photo167.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383751493222079874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you imagine inside every capsule, there is a message of encouragement? It certainly takes a lot of love from a friend to afford that kind of time and effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, knowing that such friendship did exist in reality made me expect that from my "best friend". And when they weren't able to do that, I ran away to find another person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I realise it is a mistake to give the same expectation on two completely different people. I have never been able to stay awake at 2am to listen to my friend's rant about their boyfriend the way my sister did. Or rush out at the first instant my friend gets upset. So perhaps, I don't deserve such fairytale-friendship afterall. I apologize to all my close friends for the impossible expectation I set.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the same apply when it comes to love and friendship for me. As much as I like someone to be there for me, I hate emotional attachment. I can't bear going through all the lovey, dovey process and end up having nothing again. Friends come and go, maybe I like it that way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-4935964542008451208?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/4935964542008451208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/best-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4935964542008451208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4935964542008451208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/best-friend.html' title='Best Friend'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/SrbtdXB7HYI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ePM7bOalECc/s72-c/Photo167.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-6679459989284743581</id><published>2009-09-20T13:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T18:14:56.739+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stopping at one</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.hoax-slayer.com/images/marzipan-babies6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 261px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 186px" alt="" src="http://www.hoax-slayer.com/images/marzipan-babies6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Before I start out this entry, I would like to make my stand here that I do not dislike kids. If only it's pragmatic, I would have been married by now and start building up my "happy family". There is nothing more I want than finally having my own space, my own house and raising up kids that belong to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have Three Or More If You Can Afford It" -quoted from PAP.&lt;br /&gt;In which perhaps they should elaborate more. Many people would only think economically when they see the word "afford". As much as money is a big concern, there are other aspects of life one should think of too. Like gaining another 10kg with every additional kid. Worsen sex life because your husband can't bear the increment in your weight. Looking at the mirror and feel depressed each time. Or maybe worse yet, that having the time to look into the mirror is a luxury. And the best part of raising kids? Is that they will start complaining there's generation gap between you and them when they hit 13. Call that ungrateful but you did exactly the same thing when you were 13.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A random Sunday afternoon at the McDonald's, I realised that couples with one kid are still generally well kempt. But beyond that, they seem to have given up their lives. So yeah, I'm into China's child policy of "stopping at one".&lt;a href="http://library.thinkquest.org/07aug/01579/family.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 326px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px" alt="" src="http://library.thinkquest.org/07aug/01579/family.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-6679459989284743581?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/6679459989284743581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/stopping-at-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6679459989284743581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/6679459989284743581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/stopping-at-one.html' title='Stopping at one'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524312377933934674.post-4860337392165068338</id><published>2009-09-18T13:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T13:59:57.012+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On Judgement and Change</title><content type='html'>I wish I have a better command of language so some people won't be able to understand what I write. It's like although I really want someone to understand me, but at the same time I don't like feeling so exposed. People won't come running to me and say "this is wrong! you should ..." but they will definitely form an impression on you when you start having "wrong" thoughts. By that I mean "wrong" in their own moral sense, which I don't think is "wrong" to me. You might say you won't try to judge me, but I won't believe it because judging is sometimes not a voluntary action. I have to honestly admit that I judge everyone all the time, it's whether or not I choose to verbalise it. Usually I wouln't because I don't like others to think I am a "bitch" or I don't want to give other people a chance to disagree with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shifted my blog from livejournal to reorganize my thoughts. It's like when I am put in a new environment, I start to see things differently. I guess this can be shown from my drastic change from secondary school to JC. Maybe I would have change even more in this phase of my Uni life. Unfortunately, such change doesn't come without a price. I find it harder to agree with people from my past. There are less topic for us to talk to and it's quite upsetting for a sentimental person like me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7524312377933934674-4860337392165068338?l=centauranchor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/feeds/4860337392165068338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/on-judgement.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4860337392165068338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7524312377933934674/posts/default/4860337392165068338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://centauranchor.blogspot.com/2009/09/on-judgement.html' title='On Judgement and Change'/><author><name>Lingxuan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09721617808225622744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bAlcDFZNZNE/StkSuDMsbkI/AAAAAAAAABU/iFjg5ZmhkFY/S220/mousepad-mrhappy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
