<?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-10359199</id><updated>2012-02-16T04:04:18.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am...BAD(s)</title><subtitle type='html'>Blogger indisposed...Waiting to be inspired.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-6621169050324817613</id><published>2007-07-30T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T17:39:21.402-07:00</updated><title type='text'>let me say it...</title><content type='html'>His words are like daggers coming straight from the mouth. Murmured without care or resistance.  Like a mirthless laugh that escapes a listener of a comedy show that goes on and on about the parody of George Bush or what have you.  Only you are no comedian, nor a one act show.  In essence, it doesn't disturb me what everyone says about certain matters.  There's always a paradox statement somewhere here or there.  No judgments are cast.  No judgments are made.  Life goes on...MY boat remains afloat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing about stinging statements is that it's not about what was said.  Whether it was a matter of dire importance or concern to the receiver of the statement, or a nonsensical, mindless humor that goes straight to your gut.  It's about WHO made such sweeping argument or comment.  WHO let the dogs out.  WHO burst your bubble.  If it was some stranger hollering at you to walk quickly while crossing the street, or some acquaintance insulting you for your lack of taste in wine, you wouldn't give a damn.  I'll probably throw a sardonic smile while deliberately walking slower than a wounded animal.  Who gives a fuss about shit and needles when you have a life more important than this?  The train will come.  The birds will fly.  The show will and must...go on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is only the matter of friendship that will make you stop dead in your tracks.  The one defining moment that is equivalent to a pause when a motion has always and forever been continuous.  It's like time stood still or the world stopped spinning. It's about WHO hollered at you.  WHO insulted you.  WHO made your feelings a little less than trivial.  Then you start to unravel the cobwebs that has stuck with you since your first heartbreak.  And you become defensive.  Highly neurotic.  Deranged...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why would a long time friend choose to go on a screaming match with you just when you're about to depart on a plane?  Why choose this moment to go verbally abusive when you are all ready in so much pain?  Why can't you just hug it out, forget, forgive?!  Why would a boyfriend choose to laugh at your thoughts of commitment when you are all ready scared to your toes? Why does he have to remind you of how unstable and foolish you were to believe in an idea that doesn't exist?  A helpless, mindless hope of all hopes...that someday that uncertainty will cease.  That it is possible to love beyond all fears...?  And a girl friend who's been so dear to your heart...accuses you of something when you've never uttered a word. Or how she refuses to enlighten you with an accusation, but nevertheless, informs you for the sake of informing.  Not because of care, but warning.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIGH...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To give until it hurts.  To love until it fizzles. To understand until it torments...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the unspoken vow between lovers and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till then, we keep our distance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-6621169050324817613?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/6621169050324817613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=6621169050324817613' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/6621169050324817613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/6621169050324817613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2007/07/let-me-say-it.html' title='let me say it...'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-4845985189164874190</id><published>2007-02-14T20:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T23:57:50.669-07:00</updated><title type='text'>get Alice out of Wonderland</title><content type='html'>it's a misdemeanor.  to get attached to something as meaningless as email.  until you start baring your heart and soul, and in the end, realize you said a tad too much after all.  now, u start to hate yourself for letting your feelings get caught by someone a little bit above "stranger" status.  because you liked hearing from him...you looked forward to hearing from him..after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the thing is, he's in neverland with his own tinkerbell and you just don't want to be Wendy at this point.  and even though you're not in London, NYC is still pretty much REAL from another point.  Yet, he lets you fly as you write...there is no string attached.  No danger zone.  No physical contact.  No discomfort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until the conversation stops.  And your inbox is empty of him.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's no longer a misdemeanor, but a crime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEVER NEVER LAND stops here.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, as you head out the door, a trail of pixie dust and mermaid's song is still on your mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn.  I'm heading HOME.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-4845985189164874190?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/4845985189164874190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=4845985189164874190' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/4845985189164874190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/4845985189164874190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2007/02/its-misdemeanor.html' title='get Alice out of Wonderland'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-7270301701993781866</id><published>2007-01-18T20:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T20:47:05.594-08:00</updated><title type='text'>wake me up when it's spring</title><content type='html'>The thing i dislike about winter is that you lose your color...even if youre naturally  tanned to begin with.  I swear,  my face is peeling from the cold and i'm sooo dry all over.  God how i miss the beach!  I miss the heat...I miss the sun that burns my back and turns me into a golden shade of brown...(even if everyone back home thinks being white or mestiza is better).  I like the fact that Pinoys can wear tangerine or orange without looking like a tomato.  I absolutely love being brown.  Sigh..I miss the summer.  I miss Boracay.  I miss Ilocos and the vendors that sell the original empanada on the street.  I miss hearing everyone speak ilocano around me thinking i cannot understand a word theyre saying.  I miss going to the mall and sweating like hell as you get out of the car and go into the glass doors.  I love seeing so many Pinoys dressed to kill in their knee-high boots and skinny jeans even if it's 100 degrees outside! hahaha I miss anything that reminds me of color!  I'm sick and tired of the dark.  The sky turns into gray a minute after 5 in the afternoon. I suddenly get scared to walk back home by myself.  I hate bundling up! My coat is getting heavy and my snow boots make my legs sore.  I miss my mom...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it about winter that can't seem to make me feel comfortable?  Even if I love the first drop of snow that covers the earth in immaculate white?  It makes it look peaceful.  Innocent.  Pure.  NYC??? Pure?!  Yes.  Yet, i'm uneased by the cold.  Sometimes, it just gets too darn' cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How pitiful it must be for those who get their 1st big break up in the dead of winter.  When the ice is six inches deep and youre stuck at home.  There is absolutely no way you can go out for a walk.  Breathe.  Simmer down. Let go...Nope. You are stuck at home forced to internalize your endless days of being alone.  The silence is deafening your ears.  There is no phone call.  No apologies.  No hope.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It snowed today.  Just as i was carrying my 50 lbs of laundry to the cleaners...i got home very early. While the whole world was prob'ly still stuck at work...it didn't amuse me.  The flurries didnt amuse me.  I have become so cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine phone called me feeling giddyish about her upcoming wedding.  I had to listen to their sugar coated love story all over again.  Can't people tell i am NOT the right person to share stories with when love is involved?  I am no longer a believer.  Blame Reese Witherspoon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no time to party like teenagers either.  Please.  Do not ever ask me to smoke out with you.  I have no time.  No patience.  No interest.  I never have...I don't have to go out every night to get along with everybody.  People, this is not real life.  Real life is finding a real job.  Staying in it while keeping your friends around you.  Real life is going through the subway or taking a cab.  Real life is getting a second job because the 1st can just drain you out.  Real life is going back to school, having a coffee break, getting into arguments with your folks about saving up because no one else will ever care enough to warn you.  Real life is pissing your boss and having nothing to do to fix it.  It's not about you running to papa bec he can get your boss fired.  Real life is having a friend promoted or marry a rich guy and you notice the total change in personality and confidence.  It makes you realize how not having a lot may not bring you more money, but more sense of humility.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My radio turns on by itself and my neighbor's wireless service gets pretty low.  That means MY wireless connection comes and goes...My car windows get smashed and my credit cards stolen.  Im still looking for a roommate... I have tons of garbage i have to throw out yet im still holding on to some for some sentimental reasons.  i've lost all my sense and sensibility, and a considerable amount of weight.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate winter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-7270301701993781866?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/7270301701993781866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=7270301701993781866' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/7270301701993781866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/7270301701993781866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2007/01/thing-i-dislike-about-winter-is-that.html' title='wake me up when it&apos;s spring'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-7360939098740447090</id><published>2007-01-16T17:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-16T20:03:09.807-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have been a BAD, BAD blogger!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgive me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not bore you with all the inadequacies of my life, BUT, I have pretty much been spent this past few weeks.  I dunno.  Maybe it's the change of year, change of season, change of scenery, or just...CHANGE.  So much has come to pass in so little time.  It's a shame to be idle.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A day matters.  Believe me.  That first hour that comes by without you doing laundry, or making your bed, or keeping things neat and tidy.  It will pile up like a giant beanstalk and all you can do is stare up high and wonder, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;how the hell did I let it get up there&lt;/span&gt;???  It wasn't like i pretended I had nothing to do.  Or, did i really just choose to ignore it?  All I can say is...if you have to say something now, say it.  Do something now, do it.  Now...Now...Now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week has been a huge eye-opener for me.  So much has happened.  To cap it all, I shall only say this, I WILL NOT GROW OLD EMPTY.  Yes, we dilly dally.  Yes, we can dance in the rain.  Yes we can wait for the limo ride.  But if we're stranded somewhere, sometimes, a CAMEL will have to do.  And it's not about settling for a slower ride.  It's deciding to just MOVE ON.  No matter how slow the pace.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Baby steps are miracle steps&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;...after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I shall pick up my dry cleaning, or buy dish washer soap, or hammer my mirror straight to the wall.  I will change my sheets, sort out my stuff, fold and hang my clothes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby steps...baby steps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LEAP!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-7360939098740447090?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/7360939098740447090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=7360939098740447090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/7360939098740447090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/7360939098740447090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-have-been-bad-bad-blogger-forgive-me.html' title=''/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-4198173681287021137</id><published>2006-12-15T22:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-15T22:17:53.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://widget-da.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bl&amp;il=1&amp;channel=216172782114896346&amp;site=widget-da.slide.com" width="400" height="400" name="flashticker" align="middle"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div style="width:400px;text-align:left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?id=216172782114896346&amp;cy=bl&amp;tt=16&amp;at=0&amp;map=1" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-da.slide.com/p1/216172782114896346/bl_t016_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?id=216172782114896346&amp;cy=bl&amp;tt=16&amp;at=0&amp;map=2" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-da.slide.com/p2/216172782114896346/bl_t016_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-4198173681287021137?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/4198173681287021137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=4198173681287021137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/4198173681287021137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/4198173681287021137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post_15.html' title=''/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-2948159910575162493</id><published>2006-11-27T18:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T22:25:17.077-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i will be back...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;There is no end to the wonders of your heart.  Sometimes it can go so far.  Sometimes it endures so little...If I can only figure out how mine works, then maybe, the "figuring" becomes less difficult, and the assurance becomes more lasting.  It has come to a point where I no longer long for reasoning.  I am no longer in search for answers.  Certain things are just beyond my comprehension, and no amount of wording or rephrasing, or explaining can get me to the bottom of it.  No matter how hard you try- there are those moments when you'll just have to remain afloat, because diving in too deep might just...just might...drown you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;We don't always have to know the reason why&lt;/span&gt;.  Things will happen.  Things shall come to pass.  Like...accidental encounters or accidental falling out.  People finding jobs, people losing jobs.  Families getting bigger, families falling apart.  There will be those who will win the lottery, and those never making it home.  Those who will top the bar, and those who will fail three times.  Those who will find the love of their lives, and those who will always be in search.  Those who will be born, and those who will die.  Those who can sing, and those who were made never to open their eyes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who's who?  And why??? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who gets to live and who gets to die?  Who gets to dance on stage and who gets to lose a limb?  Who gets his heart broken and who gets his pieced up clean?  Who gets to die in  Iraq and who gets to come home?  Whose family will get to celebrate Christmas at home???  Who gets to work in Paris and who gets to make copies all day?  Who will be stuck in traffic and who will get to fly away?  Who will you pick?  The girl you just met or the girl you've known all along?  Who will be remembered?  Who will be forgotten?  Who will be loved???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are ten thousand reasons.  Sometimes there is none.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things happen.  Things are.  Things change.  And although there are moments when we want so desperately to stand still in time and prolong our joys, we can't.  In as much as we can't fast forward our pain and moments of grief.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beef of the matter is &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;how we cope&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do we deal....after the hit?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-2948159910575162493?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/2948159910575162493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=2948159910575162493' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/2948159910575162493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/2948159910575162493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-will-be-back.html' title='i will be back...'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-116068508509775518</id><published>2006-10-12T13:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:36.012-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ask me...</title><content type='html'>How do you divorce yourself from the state of independence?  How do you create need from contentment?  While others long for that completion to their halfness, you've managed to find perfect order just by being yourself.  And it's not that you feel you've elevated yourself to this level of wisdom, and you think you need to find someone who can match your knowledge of the world.  It's about who will manage to throw you off that balance because, hey, you know you've pretty much hammered yourself good in a spot.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When unexpected rain comes your way after years of good weather, you begin to realize there is a need for rain.  So you get yourself soaked and enjoy a little bit of the thunder.  Until the moment comes when you know it's time to pat yourself dry or else the chill will sip through your skin and into your spine.  Getting rained upon can be good.  But never allow yourself to be left dead in the cold.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When God hands you a plateful of pancakes, we never stop with the strawberries on top.  There is more to everything than just the toppings.  We just have to dig in to find out.  It is experiencing the wholeness of the pancake that will allow us to speak of its sweetness.  We cannot give an input to a matter with just a nibble and a slice.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if it's a leo thing, a matter of upbringing, or just your personal conviction to almost everything.  But I know that I will never stop the yearning... It is the yearning that charges me full to my battery.  I cannot deprive myself from the wonders of the world and do the very same thing over and over and over again.  Wake me up to a new day everyday.  I want to see more of the world from different angles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the thing that you want your children and grandchildren to see when the time comes and it's their turn to set foot outdoors.  It is the hope that they will find the right friends to set camp with, to warm themselves with, to share stories with while backpacking to nowhere.  &lt;em&gt;It is the thought that they will never settle for a raft by the river because they couldn't wait for the boat nearby.  It is knowing that they will always pick the sailor who can make them smile...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then, we must value our moments as if it were our last.  We cannnot simply be incommensurate while we await for the very last leaf to fall.  Do something. Be something. Let us not give our elders much consternation for doing worthless nothings repeatedly.   Let us rise above such malarkey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For in doing so, our mind is finally limpid from doubt or fear, questions or trepidations over the what if's and what not's or what could never be.  And we realize that no amount of vitriol can stagger the greatest source of strength on this earth.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;YOU&lt;/strong&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just have to believe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-116068508509775518?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/116068508509775518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=116068508509775518' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/116068508509775518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/116068508509775518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/10/ask-me.html' title='Ask me...'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-115983634613156407</id><published>2006-10-02T17:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:35.792-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/303956811405_0_ALB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/303956811405_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with JeanPaul Gualtier in &lt;br /&gt;New York City&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-115983634613156407?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/115983634613156407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=115983634613156407' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115983634613156407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115983634613156407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/10/with-jeanpaul-gualtier-in-new-york.html' title=''/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-115972024556654013</id><published>2006-10-01T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:35.631-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think I am ready to explode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It can't really be "mind over matter" always, can it? My mind is just an entire universe of complicated proportions. I am thinking nonstop of endless impossible probabilities. Should I? Do I? Must I? Can I??? And the challenge is not to answer the question, but to bury it somewhere in your brain until it is totally forgotten. Why not? People ALWAYS forget anyway...in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even things that are written in history are lost in our memory. Important events have totally been removed from our lives. Remember the shooting in Irvine? Remember that girl Natalie Hallowey? Remember EDSA? The real one??? So...why not forget about MY memory? Why not forget my own shortcomings? Why can't I let go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I made a mistake. Big deal. I pretty much had a strong case of lapse in judgement. But don't we all on certain days? Don't we say something we want to take back? Do something we musn't do? Act on something we musn't feel??? A few hours ago I was watching this segment on CNN about a couple measuring every calorie they eat at the dinner table. It was down to the last green leaf, last bean, last tomato. All these for a much longer life they say. A life past 100 years old. But they were measuring every raspbery, every tofu to its core..from the size of the healthiest carrot to the length of an avocado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What difference does it make if I took a bite of nachos today just because I feel like it? Don't we all deserve a cup full of our favorite ice cream once in a while? I mean, I may live up to 101. But is it worth it with just onions and string beans in your stomach?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other words, yeah. You tell me to sift. To break it down and remove the non-essentials from the essentials. To scrape the icing on the cake, the sauce from the beef, the juice from the freshest coconut fruit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what is a work of art without the sweat, the writer without the pot, the player without the woman in his heart?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer is WORTH that beat-up truck rusting in the garage our dad bought in 1985.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-115972024556654013?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/115972024556654013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=115972024556654013' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115972024556654013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115972024556654013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-think-i-am-ready-to-explode.html' title=''/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-115914227070495714</id><published>2006-09-24T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:35.271-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the McDREAMIES vs. the McVETS</title><content type='html'>Am I the only one going completely nostalgic about this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So take your time...While I made my choice, she was the wrong one."--McDreamy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who freakin' says this in real life?!  Who??? If a man ever said such incendiary statements to me, I'll die.  No. I'll kill him with my bare hands.  It's totally making Meredith delirious.  It's totally making ME delirious.  But like the ten million viewers who were prob'ly screaming their pants off, I am a fan.  I have always been. More than a year ago, when everyone else was into Lost and Desperate Housewives (or that Mafia thing on HBO), I blogged about this amazing show that has made a lover out of me again.  Grey reminded me of Ally Mcbeal, except she wasn't a lawyer, but just as neurotic.  I liked the scary and damaged part..the twisted and dark...because...it all went back to...me. Hooray!  I am not the only complicated, indecisive, confused, and obsessed weirdo.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this is not what this blog is about.  It's about the &lt;strong&gt;McDreamies and the McVets&lt;/strong&gt;.  It's about the one you love or the one who loves you.  The one who hurt you or the one who will never hurt you.  The one who left you or the one who will never leave you.  Heavy...heavy...stuff.  (If you put it this way, then the choice shouldn't really be so complex.  And yet it is...or else we wouldn't be watching.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to label the McDreamies as the perpetual bad boys.  I see them as the men we share a frenetic connection with.  So demented and unbalanced...yet so emotionally ecstatic.  While the McVets...hmmmm...are the once we share a convivial relationship with---safe and settling...comforting. Sigh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would advice you to go for the McVets.  Those who will move heaven and earth for you.  Those who will transcend boundaries for you.  Those who will fight for you.  "If there is a ring.  My head is in it."--McVet  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, it is never always that easy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sad thing about the McVets is that they will have to go against your "moments".  &lt;strong&gt;Moments that you will only share with the McDreamies.&lt;/strong&gt;  Moments that you will never forget...And in as much as you try to force yourself to "develop" a moment with Mr. McVet, it will never work.  These moments just happen.  We cannot conjure "the moment".  We cannot &lt;em&gt;pretend&lt;/em&gt; to feel "magic".    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine recently said to me not to close the door on doubtful possibilities.  Simply because the "doubt" could be reasoned with.  How do you reason with a doubtful heart??? You don't.  The heart needs no reason to believe.  It just does.  In the same way that the heart can't be forced to believe what it can't.  Even if you give it a million reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. McVet may be wonderful.  But Mr. Wonderful may not always be Mr. Right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But does that mean Mr. McDreamy is always Mr. Right?  Hell not.  I remember the last time I saw my McDreamy on a 4th.  He was with her.  I remembered when he told me about her.  How he wanted to make it work---with her.  Because they have history...because they have years...because they have what he called a commitment.  How can you hate an honest man???  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can't you love an honest man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tune in...to the choice television actors make.  It may not be our life.  But it's a life worth watching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/009_9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/009_9.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(will one day find my McDreamy &lt;br /&gt;in the streets of Italy)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-115914227070495714?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/115914227070495714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=115914227070495714' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115914227070495714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115914227070495714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/09/mcdreamies-vs-mcvets.html' title='the McDREAMIES vs. the McVETS'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-115704387237264337</id><published>2006-08-31T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:34.655-08:00</updated><title type='text'>to heal a broken heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/566850939305_0_ALB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/566850939305_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss you guys...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TO HEAL A BROKEN HEART----&lt;br /&gt;How long does it take?  Not quite long, I guess...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation No. 1&lt;br /&gt;Bads:  I'm BACK!!!&lt;br /&gt;Gilly: Huh? Ok.&lt;br /&gt;-The End-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation No. 2&lt;br /&gt;Bads: Tears...tears...tears...I want to go back.&lt;br /&gt;Miyuki: Wag ka ngang maarte, ha!  Welcome back to the real world! &lt;br /&gt;-The End-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation No. 3&lt;br /&gt;Bads: (quiet)&lt;br /&gt;Gretch: Where's my blouse?! Is it nice?  How does it look? Does it fit me? I told her to get a size 38...It will take 2 weeks to go back to your routine. I didn't miss you.  Ok lang. Are you going to the party?  I'm not sure if I am.  I'm still at work Blah..blah...blah...blah...blah...I'll call you back.&lt;br /&gt;Bads: (still quiet)&lt;br /&gt;-The End-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation No. 4&lt;br /&gt;Bads: God, I don't think I can do this.  I'm so homesick.  And sad.&lt;br /&gt;Anthony: Me too!  I have so much to tell you!  There's so much drama...Here goes.&lt;br /&gt;(30 mins after)&lt;br /&gt;Anthony: How about you? Why are you sad?&lt;br /&gt;Bads: No, I'm ok.  I'm fine.&lt;br /&gt;-The End-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation No. 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;phone rings&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bads: Hey, Abby.&lt;br /&gt;Abby: Bads, it was time to go.  &lt;br /&gt;Bads: (teary eyed) I know.&lt;br /&gt;-The End-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How long does it take to get you insane?  5 conversations or less...Forget about your broken heart.  The world will move on.  With or without you.  &lt;br /&gt;-The End-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-115704387237264337?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/115704387237264337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=115704387237264337' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115704387237264337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115704387237264337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/08/to-heal-broken-heart.html' title='to heal a broken heart'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-115476264110982158</id><published>2006-08-04T23:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:33.940-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It only takes one.  ONE ACT. Of gentle kindness..sweet persuation..great foolishness..unfaithfulness..or disappearance to change your entire relationship with someone else.  And it's not about the "i will make up for it" part or doing more than what is expected.  It's about the CHOICE you make on a certain matter...for a certain day.  &lt;em&gt;And although there will be another tomorrow, tomorrow is NOT today.  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing about setting your heart on a matter, is that you never want to make a mistake.  Because your heart is involved and your judgment at stake.  Never mind if everyone warns you of the risk.  It's your judgment...your theory...your CALL to make.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know potential when I see one.  It is a gift I perfected with children. There are kids born for stardom that you immediately adhere to.  And there are THOSE you observe with great interest.  &lt;em&gt;It is not the great but the POSSIBILITY for greatness that inspires me.&lt;/em&gt;  When you enter a room filled with people, it is easy to notice those who stand out.  For depthless reasons---appearance, stature, or class.  I am thankful never to be persuaded by such ubiquities.  For at some point in my past, I was always trying to place great weight on appearance.  And yet, I was empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the uneventful realization that you COULD be wrong in your judgment.  So you insist to be right and allow things to happen.  Despite the warnings, the talk, and the tell-tale signs to DOOMsville land.  Before you know it, you are caught in sleeping beauty's spinning wheel of dreams.  Until eventually...the needle finds it's way to your skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It only takes ONE.  One act.  Of face to face encounter...to KNOW.  That &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; potential could ONLY have been a one time spark on the beach...the park...a corner downtown.  And you look at the person and you remember the time a good friend asked you for caution--because of the rusty past and the playboy history.  Back then you smiled and tossed your head up knowing you've always been good at the game.  Only to realize that...you were never made to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It only takes one.  One act of realization.  To lose faith...in a man.  An unexpected collision of paths to know...that gone is the mystery, the character, the depth.  Just a shadow of blurry moments in the past--of wit, humor, and the quiet strength of his presence.  Where has it gone?  Or, was it never there to begin with???  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm over it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It only takes one act.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One act...to forget.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-115476264110982158?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/115476264110982158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=115476264110982158' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115476264110982158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115476264110982158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/08/it-only-takes-one.html' title=''/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-115364830627134728</id><published>2006-07-23T02:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:33.327-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Numbered Days...</title><content type='html'>At this time last year, I was told to die by a voice in a not-so fictional dream.  I was alone in a room.  My body was dead tired to move but my mind was wide awake.  I have encountered a number of weirdness in my slumber state.  But this, by far, was the most crucial of everything ambiguous.  It reminded me of the same moment when angel Gabriel visited Mary to tell her about the good news being picked as the Chosen One for Jesus.  Only, I was no Mary.  And I was obviously not chosen to bring life.  Instead, I was told that mine would be taken away before my 27th year.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was chosen to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this is true, how could I have been so lucky to be dutifully warned by the angel of death?  Mind you, I was all the way in San Francisco, trying to have a grand old time with my vacation.  Yet, among all the living beings turning 27 by next year, I above all people, was handfully picked to be cut short of my earthly time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What in God's world did I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me think...hmmmm.  Nothing morally risque.  I try, like most people, to be noble in character.  Try.  Though I don't doubt there've been plenty of days I've fallen short in nobility.  But don't we all?  So if this is a test of failing through life with goodness in conscience, am I truly next in line to leave???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not actually death that I feared at that moment of my awakening.  I have gone through numerous life shattering accidents that has brought me to a much deeper state of consciousness.  Yet, amidst all the 911 calls, and the paramedics, and the quick ride to the ER room...I, afterall the bombarding threats, am still breathing.  I guess, there's still another bone to break, another cheek to scar, another heart to falter and pump for the wrong reasons.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another chance to make mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dear friends have commented on the "new" Bads that's come home to them recently.  Have I really changed that much since I left?  Is the change good?  Are the remnants of my better past still evident somehow?  I have tried to intertwine the lessons of my story hoping to find a "better" me. A better me for somebody.  Anybody.  It is the pact I made during a troubled me.  "Make me whole. Please. Heal me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No I have not forgotten my deal with the Almigthy.  I used to think it was a stupid thing to bargain for---a better life in exchange for quality choices.  But, as I look at the sight of the homeless and the needy, I realized I never needed to make such bargain.  &lt;strong&gt;I already have a better life.  Now I am commanded to make greater choices.  &lt;/strong&gt;  When people ask me why I'm never impressed with the size of someone's house, I fall silent.  For I have been to a place where a family of 8 have to cramp together in a 5 sqr. meter dump.  Or when I hear talks about food and how much time people devote to make impressive feasts, I quiver.  For I've seen children forced to eat spoiled food just to survive till the next day.  And yes, this vacation time of mine, though restful, has brought me some guilty pleasures.  For I have succeeded in perfecting Bel Far Niente (The Art of Doing Nothing).  If I die, it is the most shameful moment to do so, for I am at my most ignorant state of mind.  I know nothing of what's going on in the world. I have not read a single paper or watched any news since I got here.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am an empty soul. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am still not 27.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My curse is still lives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-115364830627134728?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/115364830627134728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=115364830627134728' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115364830627134728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115364830627134728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/07/numbered-days.html' title='Numbered Days...'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-115205699572148465</id><published>2006-07-04T15:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:31.941-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Circle of Friends</title><content type='html'>I'm confused.  Dazed most of the time.  A pivotal decision bugging your mind worth changing the leftover years in your lifetime.  How do you decide when to move your queen on the chessboard?  When everything else is in such a fixed place?  I wish the easiness could be carried through from back when we were younger.  Going to school.  Enjoying time with friends.  Playing it oh so cool.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever noticed how things become so different after years of being away?  Like the space and the room has gone smaller..the road more narrow..your couch not as comfortable?  Yet everything else is still the same.  Same people fill your room...your memory...your mind.  It's not just the growth of white hair that proves we have aged, but the common duties of our very existence.  Proof of it is when my friends start talking about home furnitures and paint or the menu for their beloveds for the night.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;How could it be that the things that bind us together, are the things that also set us apart?&lt;/span&gt;  One thing is for sure though.  I look at my friends now and there is nothing but great PRIDE I have for them.  Oh how they have...changed and yet, still remain the very same people I have cherished all these years.  I was fortunate enough to have found my soul sisters back in college.  And I know no matter how many "bubu"s I make, i will always have my own team to run to...when i am most definitely eaten with shame.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no absolute leader in our group.  Just a bunch of girlfriends with similar interest and different passions.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Jeh&lt;/span&gt;, will always be the apotheosis of primness and properness.  I have never heard her loud or vulgar.  Like a dear Rapunzel, a damzel though never in distress.  But don't be fooled.  She may personify absolute simplicity in character, but her coin purse is as expensive as my laptop.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Che&lt;/span&gt;, will always be the perennial do-gooder.  She can work and get along with anybody.  She will find no fault in anyone.  And she will readily forgive even the most demonic in- law.  I love her.  She will pick up the pieces with me clad in her sexiest outfit, and her son in tow.  Hilarious!  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Vanny&lt;/span&gt;... will always and forever be the quintessencial elegant beauty.  I know no one who can carry just jeans and a white tee to perfection.  And we were in college back then!  Now, nothing's changed.  Except that despite having a beautiful daughter, she's still thinner than me.  Rolling my eyes now!  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Abb&lt;/span&gt;...abbigail, will always be the sweetest person with the sweetest voice in the planet.  She always reminds me to act accordingly even when it comes to people I have no patience with.  We are so different, yet I understand her.  She's become such a mother to her child. It's amazing to witness.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Tina&lt;/span&gt; Perez will always be the absolute flaker like me.  She will make an arrangement and change it last minute.  And despite the aggravation, I cannot fault her.  Because she's as time snob as me.  I have yet to see her during this 2 month visit.  And until I do, i will say nothing of her. Bwahahaha  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;MeL&lt;/span&gt; maldita is the most opinionated, unfiltered, truthful, non-judgmental person I know.  I try to keep secrets from her.  But it never works.  She knows.  She'll know.  It's scary.  And most of the things people take pains to tell me?  She'll tell me to my face without inhibitions.  Yet i listen.  And I love her for it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with the exception of one, I adore all my friends husbands. (Exception bec there's one who's still unmarried...like me! Just to be clear!=) )  They're patient.  That's all that matters.  I cannot even begin to describe the havoc we create when we are all together.  It's a tsunami in the making magnified to plenty.  Yet, it is the hands that bind us together through the storm...The years that keep us in close proximity to each other, even if say, one of us lives somewhere in NYC.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the thing that makes me want to stay.  &lt;br /&gt;Longer? Forever?  &lt;br /&gt;Who knows?  I'm still confused.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet the clock continues to tick despite my longing.  &lt;br /&gt;Mindless of my yearning.  &lt;br /&gt;Nonchalant over my questioning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still waiting for a phonecall.  &lt;br /&gt;Will it come?  &lt;br /&gt;I shout to the world how substantially meaningful I have become.  Yet I am bound to a mindless tragedy of hopeless hope.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A call that will make me rush to the ends of the world.  &lt;br /&gt;Just to hear. Just to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet my queen stays.  Where it is.  On guard.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone please tell me again what they heard from that LAKEHOUSE movie...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"If she's not careful...she might be waiting all her life."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This helps. IF youre like me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-115205699572148465?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/115205699572148465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=115205699572148465' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115205699572148465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115205699572148465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/07/circle-of-friends.html' title='Circle of Friends'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-115144798915788893</id><published>2006-06-27T14:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:31.191-08:00</updated><title type='text'>K.I.T.</title><content type='html'>My dear friend Abby says I must enjoy.  Cease the thinking, and just have fun.   Knowing my tendency to over analyze or assume things, she's prob'ly right.  It's best I sit back and enjoy the ride.  People can really drive themselves mad with bizarre ideas that may seem innocuous at the beginning.  Until you toil with the very same idea for weeks or months without realizing there is no hint of truth to it. A hallucination in your mind.  A movie you produced and directed.  And only you get to watch.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pathetic.  I feel like I must be struck with lightning for wanting more things when I already have been blessed with enough.  I feel like I always pretend I have a pseudo hard life worth balling my eyes on when infact, there is nothing more I desire.  Whatever will be, will be.  I have more than enough.  Be still.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the phone, I couldn't help feeling so happy talking to my dear friend Vanny a few hours after touchdown.  God it feels good to be back.  I was greeted with the singing band everyone seems to just pass on by at the airport.  For a moment I wondered if i should stop and give them a round of applause for always being freakin' there for every traveller setting foot in our country.  I mean, imagine if they weren't?  Won't we wonder???  We take so many things for granted literally.  It's sad.  Like people who are always there for us... My driver, M'g Danny has been my driver since highschool.  He picked me up at the airport with my folks the other day.  And boy, was he just as happy to see me.  I remembered how he followed me around in college like a precious bodyguard despite being so stocky and short.  All my friends loved him.  He served me out of care.  I remembered how he pointed out to me once how he didn't like a suitor of mine without me asking him.  Like his opinion mattered.  But it did.  I just CAN'T STAND people who are so bad with help.  It's criminal.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway,  the weather here is...ok.  I'd bargain for a little more "coolness" but I fear God would reprimand me with a storm.  So I'll take what is given...with a smile.  there are so many things I want to do.  I don't know where to start.  Be still, my heart.  Be still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am home far away from home.  I wonder what the weather is like in NY?  It was raining when I left.  They said by the weekend it would be nice.  Hmmmmm...walking by Washington Square...frozen margaritas in the afternoon...window shopping in Soho with friends...looking for a good read at Barnes...dressing up and toning it down by the night.  Hay naku!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to have a late lunch with friends...with a meal that will prob'ly cost me 8 bucks for whatever is most expensive on the menu.  Catching up on old times...being a godmother to their child...spending some quality afternoon without a deadline. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not bad...not bad at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bumping into a familliar face I've been dying to see would be cherry on top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what are the odds?  10,000 to 1 perhaps.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Movie...it's all just a movie.&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;MOOD CHANGE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have issues re people who will suddenly bash about things online then I suggest you don't read this.  The difference between your regular blogger and I who's about to trash known individuals is that you perfectly know who I am.  I think it's so totally beneath common decency when other anonymous bloggers mention other individuals online for the whole world to read and attack them.  Loser, introduce yourself.  There is no purpose of writing hate blogs if you'll cower away like a rat about to die.  A friend just forwarded an email to me about this ANONYMOUS blogger who started shitting about other people's business.  Unfortunately, this blogger commented about someone I know who's the epitome of pure kindness.  Well, with the amount of shit she said about this person, I needed to strike back.  And yes, quote me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I don't know who the writer is, it's really hard for me to cuss.  And I don't really give a damn if anyone who's about to read this will comment back heatedly.  As long as you TELL US WHO YOU ARE.  Guts, baby.  Guts.  You have the guts to stab, then have the guts to show face.  Unless youre chicken shit, then , it's understandable.  First of all, I understand completely how strangers want to piss on beautiful people.  Envy, after all, is one deadly sin.  But man, grow up.  I've lived it.  That scene when half of the people in the room gives you that fake smile but secretly wants you to stumble in your perfect black dress? Very common.  Which is why I value my dear friends so passionately.  I know who I can trust. However, when someone exceptionally gorgeous who happens to be so generous and willing to help people becomes say captivating to the world, don't pull her down.  Let her do her generous bidding.  Why suck her with your crablike will?  Why make her hate the world?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been not even a day since I got here and here I am.  Shaking my head like a madwoman.  Will this STATUS sphere change in our kingdom?  Awhile ago, I was on line trying to buy myself coffee while all of my friends seated themselves at a table about 20 feet away.  This person infront of me was looking fr head to toe showing off her pink razor phone and her LV bag to my face.  Get real.  Honey, the razor is sooo last year.  Now, i'm usually good walking away fr this stuff..(hmmm most of the time), but shit I hate cellphones.  Ive outgrown the desire to own the latest gadget.  And until my phone dies, its the ONLY time ill get myself a new one.  We've been there! I went to a university who started TEXT messaging.  Back when the banana phone fr the very first matrix was invented! We've fought hand and nail for the most chic and slim.  But darn, the entire Manila population has become one big university of show offs.  Do not parade those monogram or any letter handbag to my face.  That is the tackiest.  Get the leather Balenciaga or any plane jane looking no letter L, V, G, C, D pocketbook. Please..please..please.  If only we realize that we cannot buy class with money.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My collegue once said to me how having less makes you more humble as I was complaining how broke I was over the weekend.  She was right.  I guess sometimess, it takes one to become penniless to know humility.  How many times have friends fr back home checked out what freakin' car I was driving in the City? Numerous.  I bought my first car when i was 22.  I am driving a now 4 year old CIVIC.  That I PAID FOR..with my OWN MONEY and with my own credit history.  And yes, i have folks who will dutifully spot me with anything I desire.  Anything.  But it's not mine now, is it?  And what's not yours must always be returned.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for you hand me down rolex wearing, self absorbed, never have to pay for anything substantial in your life maderpakers, get lost.  Don't try to impress with the quality of what you own, but the quality of who you are.  And don't, pls don't, guys who try to come on to a woman with their last name expecting to get some recognition.  Geez! Who would want to be associated with anyone in our government?! Embarassing.  And no, having 20 bodyguards follow you around does not make you a man.  It makes you a wuss!  Why??? can;t you fight your own battles?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe i'm being overly dramatic.  Maybe I should just try to play it cool.  I get that a lot, you know.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I care.  I do.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shouldn't really.  But Alas, i do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-115144798915788893?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/115144798915788893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=115144798915788893' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115144798915788893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115144798915788893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/06/kit.html' title='K.I.T.'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-115116845687443770</id><published>2006-06-24T09:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:30.776-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mistaken Identity</title><content type='html'>How do you expect someone to know what you want when you can't tell for yourself what your own heart desires?  Sometimes it bothers me that even up to this point, I can still manage to surprise myself about certain things.  It pisses me.  I am always a sure-ball thinker.  I don't like to test the waters.  I don't like dipping my feet.  Either I get all wet or stay dry.  That's it.  That's all.  Nothing more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, I find myself limbo rocking like everyone else.   I find myself toying with impossible ideas...asking myself the "what if" questions that can drive you into pure madness.  Sometimes I hate my past.  It messes my present and distorts my future.  So I can't really afford mistakes.  I just can't.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is perfection such an impossible demand?  Forget about being human.  Why can't we take the high road and be a man?  Why???  Why do we have to beat around the bush? Play the game? Pretend?  Prolong??? Why can't we just cut ties and move on? Why do we have to resort to DRAMA?  I hate drama.  Yet my life seems to breathe it.  Aghhhhhhhh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I want to do is pick up that phone and make the call.  But I can't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People think I am so strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a mistake I don't mind people thinking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-115116845687443770?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/115116845687443770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=115116845687443770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115116845687443770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115116845687443770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/06/mistaken-identity.html' title='Mistaken Identity'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-115013740666674865</id><published>2006-06-12T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:30.307-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Countdown to Freedom land</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/3%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/3%20copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...I have 14 days left to make precious love with the City that has never abandoned me. 14 too little. My affair started about half a decade ago. I was 22---hopeful, idealistic, innocent, carefree. But like a brand new car that wears out after years of living the same kind of troubling life, you lose your drive....your dreams...your visions...your life. As Daniel Powter says, "Where is the passion when you need it the most?". It's just one bad day from another. Sometimes worse, but never better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was this City that saved me and every Pinoy waiting in line for that blue passport or "green" status. It's just absolutely amazing to live here...from season to season, moment to moment, place to place. And what's even more grand about it are the FRIENDS you share it with, the people you spend time with, the strangers you've become friends with. Shout out to my PINOYorkers yahoogroup! hahaha Thanks for always being there! For our laugh trips to heaven down to hell! Just freakishly insane!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so i'm going back to the islands to revisit my past. Perhaps take care of some unfinished business. Staying there for 2 weeks last time was just an absolute breeze, I didn't really have time to smell the flowers. But I had a blast seeing old friends, shopping, and catching up on every missing hole imaginable. Must I say, Manila has gotten so clean! And the young boys-- so hot! I mean, you can't even tell that these mega packed hunks are just 20! What happened to the boys during MY generation?! Why couldn't they look like THAT?! hahaha kidding, I was never really into buffness. Like wealth, looks does not impress me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I will definitely miss NYC. My home. My love. I know Gretch you've been telling me that it's only for less than 3 months, but it's still kinda scary. I mean, I stayed in Frisco for three weeks and I was itching to go back home. And I love that place! Miyuks, it would have been better to go back and sketch a whole new world with you. How will I ever survive without you at my side??? And my dear Abby, I'm sure if we travelled together, I would meet a whole team of your men friends. DO NOT set me up with anyone! Girl, you just don't give up!=) Anths and Sarah, who's going to tell me what to and not to wear when I go out? You guys have been my DEVIL wears Prada. Only Sarah, you are certainly more of my halo than my horns. GILLY!!! Who's going to take care of me now when I'm wasted? Who's going to be my prop when unwanted individuals are lurking around? You better make sure you find a decent girl the entire group approves of OR you will never hear the end of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there it goes, my personal goodbyes to the people who have made my City a much homier place to live in. I'm taking a stall on the snowboarding trips, the cruise, the sleepovers, the dinner, the soccer games, the squash and tennis plans that never came to be, the kayaking, river rafting, the coffee conversations, the wine tasting, the SOHO shopping, broadway, theater, concerts, vintage boutiques, saigon grill, soup dumplings, dessert, and ice cream...The boomerang laughter, the tears, the intense talk down memory lane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God. If I go on, I would never get to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's a whole new ball game. A whole new world... in my once upon a time comfort world. I've been around the world and back. I know somewhere...somehow I missed a spot. The "shaddiest" spot of all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to turn my gray area into an ocean blue. I fled during turbulent times and chickened out. Now, I'm ready to go back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, 'been missing the plane a lot. Never finished the packing. Never got there on time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I've left all my baggages behind.&lt;br /&gt;I realized I only need ME to board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my own terms....at my own pace...on my own moment.&lt;br /&gt;I like that. My own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-115013740666674865?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/115013740666674865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=115013740666674865' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115013740666674865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/115013740666674865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/06/countdown-to-freedom-land.html' title='Countdown to Freedom land'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-114939734735812102</id><published>2006-06-03T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:30.017-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the Game that people play</title><content type='html'>I just had dinner with friends who were sharing with me their love problems. Both of them had something in common. They were left &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;in the dark&lt;/span&gt; about their undefined relationships with their special someone. At the end of the night, we had so many theories. Yet I went home with no definite answers...The same thing happened to me over the phone with another friend of mine who was asking me why she hasn't heard from the guy who made plans to take her out. I offered a lot of reasons why it has taken him this long to make arrangements. But in the end, it all boiled down to one question. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is he &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; interested???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What separates the men from the boys, I used to say, is their approach to this thing called seduction. The very best players always know how to entice...So women, watch closely. It is the subtleness of the lingering hand, the look, the brief but unforgetable conversation. It is the deafening silence between two people with unmistakable chemistry that is incredibly impossible to disregard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the unexplained spark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I am a believer despite being non-commital. I know about the universe of cosmic attraction. The magnetic pull between two wandering cosmos that collide in full magnitude. The strongest ones, are the unexpected...the unforeseen...the unplanned collision between two planets that suddenly share the same orbit. Until they become somewhat disconnected to their usual flow of rotation and find themselves asking, &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;what the hell just happened?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now what? Where do we go from here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are always two broken roads to choose from.  Either the shake-up was mind boggling enough to become serious &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;or&lt;/span&gt; the shake-up was just another bump on the road....another dust on the shoulder that must be wiped off. However this time, it's not just some dusting off from our immaculately clean clothes. It is the cleaning out of a memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do we delete certain scenarios from our mind? How do we forget an amazing conversation? A funny story? A smile? A hand? How do we erase a special moment? Must we busy ourselves with matters of consequence? Must we involve ourselves with someone else? Must we pretend it never happened? How do we let go? How do we move on? How do we...survive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What sucks about it is, there will always be someone who'll get involved. Someone who'll find themselves deeper in the hole. Until they have no way of getting out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good thing about it is, one day someone will hear your screaming. And you will be pulled out of the mud right before it sucks you in completely. And you will be shown a way where someone is actually willing to roll you that red carpet...like no one has ever done before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the mean time...not till you get there, put on that heavy armor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and LET the GAMES begin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-114939734735812102?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/114939734735812102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=114939734735812102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114939734735812102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114939734735812102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/06/game-that-people-play.html' title='the Game that people play'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-114815122209172189</id><published>2006-05-20T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:28.215-08:00</updated><title type='text'>diary of a "BAD" girl...</title><content type='html'>For a moment, I was fully uncertain if I was to feel amused or offended when my good friend, Colette, screamed at me incredulously after she heard me answer her question. No, we weren't having our usual bickering and fun arguments. She was just mighty shocked with my answer. Well, for a second she was until she proceeded on to inform me that I should really try to get a life and do all the things I am mostly afraid of. That, or she says I should try &lt;font&gt;getting laid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very funny! Sometimes I just have to remember how the hell we became friends despite the extreme difference in our characters. But perhaps, because of all that we have been through, she really was AFTER ALL, a dear friend who KNEW me to the core even without me telling her. My friend grew up in London, is far from conservative, gorgeous, and extremely kind. I was raised by strict Catholic parents, soulful, independent, and extremely faithful. What is surprising is how people mistake us for having opposite characters. Her being shy and quiet, myself being gutsy and clueless. The total chaos we concoct is far from imaginable. I myself find MYSELF going mental.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a fake ass BAD girl. She knows. I can talk the talk, look the walk, but NEVER walk the walk. Yet, it's how I have always been perceived. Fortunately, age has slowly worn off the image. I remember spending some time in California and people from a different realm were talking down on me like I was some kind of a "lost" cause. I took the beating...But not the teaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do no tell me what to do in moments of great decisions. Judge if you must, but never be self-righteous. It is the trademark of the gods who are obsessed with goodness but know no weakness. Please...there may always be a mouthful to say to someone, but we live by example not by principle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To behave accordingly in an environment where everyone is expected to behave is irrelevant.  Like a school, every student is &lt;font&gt;forced to follow certain rules to be able to graduate, to excel, to get good grades. In a community of believers, every follower is expected to be meek and mild or (you may argue with me on this, but I still insist) be gossiped about by the appointed leaders of the flock. &lt;font&gt;To behave accordingly in an environment where everyone is NOT expected to always do the right thing is what's relevant. It is what you CHOOSE to do in the real world that matters!&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It is what you choose to say when no one is listening...what you choose to give when no one is watching...what you choose to love when no one is capable of loving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;ONLY then do you get to decide. ONLY then do you get to JUDGE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, give every bad boy/bad girl a break.  There is a rebellious cause behind the disguise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That or they just look it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-114815122209172189?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/114815122209172189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=114815122209172189' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114815122209172189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114815122209172189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/05/diary-of-bad-girl.html' title='diary of a &quot;BAD&quot; girl...'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-114800427741848065</id><published>2006-05-18T19:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:28.035-08:00</updated><title type='text'>one random day...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/chelsea4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/chelsea4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/chelsea3.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/chelsea3.0.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;by chelsea piers, manhattan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/chelsea2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/chelsea2.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/10359199-114800427741848065?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/114800427741848065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=114800427741848065' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114800427741848065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114800427741848065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/05/one-random-day.html' title='one random day...'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-114753756125606445</id><published>2006-05-13T09:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:24.244-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the LAD that he was</title><content type='html'>When you're never in doubt about a theory, you become complacent..smug even...cocky to a certain extent. And you live your life thinking you are never wrong about "this" judgment simply because you THINK you know it for a fact. Well, let me just say, there are certain moments(like now) that I am very glad to be proven wrong about a theory of mine. Actually, the truth of the matter is,&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; it feels great to be proven wrong on a subject matter where you've always wanted to be wrong about&lt;/span&gt;.  It simply means there is a beleaguering POSSIBILITY to a seemingly hopeless case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are certain things in life that we may not necessarily be AGAINST with, but neither are we FOR it. Say, long distance relationships...the death penalty...illegal immigrants...&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;younger men&lt;/span&gt;. When it comes to dating, I have always been one of those who's so keen on the age issue. FYI, I don't date younger men. While I know this statement will get me shot and killed by a lot of older women including Demi, I have to say, I have my own reasons for saying this. But jeez, spare me the all-righteous explanation of "maturity and sophistication doesn't come with age". &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If there is a naked pin-up on that bedroom wall, then he hasn't hit the real thing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, I could be wrong.  Or should I say, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am wrong&lt;/span&gt;. For there are those who are barely legal yet can rise above the nonsense. Almost 2 years ago, I met someone in the weirdest situation. I was traveling with my dad to an unknown state...and being forced to go despite all my objections brought me to a new height of bitchiness. We were picked up fr the airport by his doctor friend and his son, who I immediately summed as fresh out of college. He was a few years younger than me, and a lot younger than all of the guys I have ever gone out with. BUT when it comes to class and humility, he could give ALL the older men I have been with a run for their money. He was intelligent, well-informed, and honest. Traits that are almost always lacking. He talked about religion, places he's been to while backpacking with his friends in Europe, books he's read, the music he listens to, the things he was most passionate about. Yes he was a younger man, I told myself. But he was definitely of a different breed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought he was the last of his kind. Thank goodness I am wrong again. Sometime ago, I unexpectedly bumped into another younger man who I became taken too. He caught my interest not so much because of appearance, but because of his demeanor. I could tell he was younger. But I had to give it to him with his presence. He had such a command. The weird thing is, I knew he probably didn't know how much of it he had. Yeah... he most prob'ly have used his charms to woe all the giggly young girls at some points in his life...for he did have the makings of a player. But it was the good nature that was so evident in his character that blew me away. I must say, lucky is the girl who will end up with this lad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The real deal is...it's really...most probably...not simply...about age. It is the man that they were born to be. It is the man that they are. The man that they have chosen to be. Whether they're 40...or closing in to 23. I just hope and pray that my younger sibling would find such character in a man. Right now i feel like I do not need to worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They exist.  A few good men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few good YOUNGER men...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-114753756125606445?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/114753756125606445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=114753756125606445' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114753756125606445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114753756125606445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/05/lad-that-he-was.html' title='the LAD that he was'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-114693040355716568</id><published>2006-05-06T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:24.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahhhh Manila....Manila....Manila</title><content type='html'>I have been asked countless of times since my return if I am finally packing my bags and moving back to the land that raised me after half a decade of hiatus. Yes, half a decade. I was 21 when I moved out of my motherland to seek not so much greener or better pastures...but I was out and about to seek the world. Boy, did I SEE the world! And to the generation after me, I urge you to do the same. Do not be so caught up in your own inner circle. There is so much to see...so much to learn...so much to love. And I have to say, 'twas only when I was out of my comfort zone that I realized...I don't always need comfort to survive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But being back in the most comfortable place in the planet, (and I say "comfortable" not just bec of our compassionate &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;helpers, drivers, manangs, and manongs&lt;/span&gt;) I realized how much of it I have missed and how much of it I truly adored. Manila is no New York City. But to some of us who will always be in the shadows of the star-spangled dream, it will always be...HOME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              Bora with my loved ones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" hrf="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/rommel%20104.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/rommel%20104.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/10359199-114693040355716568?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/114693040355716568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=114693040355716568' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114693040355716568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114693040355716568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/05/ahhhh-manilamanilamanila.html' title='Ahhhh Manila....Manila....Manila'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-114640200782491722</id><published>2006-04-30T05:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:23.684-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heartless Mind</title><content type='html'>It is the nature of my heart----to be free.  To be exempt from that which binds me to stay.  For what purpose is there to LINGER, when the mind still yearns to explore?  So ask me to STAY PUT and I will for the semi-right reasons.  But if the choice is a step short of utter devotion, then so is my passion.  If passion is incomplete, then why must we DWELL???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I step up to the plate, I must give it a full swing.  Never mind if it's a complete miss or totally misdirected.  IT'S ALL ABOUT THE HIT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I know, amidst all the strikes, is a beautiful homerun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So please, don't ask me to stay.  Though my heart feels it is ready, my mind insists to be free.  Age will not defy me, neither will my memory.  I will not be caught down for the wrong reasons.  I will not be TIED for one stupid mistake.  I've seen the after-life of temporal bliss.  I refuse to be in the running for a life half-filled with regret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So unchain me...from the wonder of what could have been if I stayed...from the longing of a place that is home...from the dream of a love that is real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is real is that I am WHERE I SHOULD BE.  A place where my mind is OVER the matter, even if my heart has chosen  to leave me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So am I better off???...with my mind strong and my heart lacking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To each man...his own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-114640200782491722?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/114640200782491722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=114640200782491722' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114640200782491722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114640200782491722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/04/heartless-mind.html' title='Heartless Mind'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-114067371072953950</id><published>2006-02-22T20:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:23.272-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When the Growing gets TOUGH</title><content type='html'>i was reminded of this conversation i had with a friend in Cali weeks ago as I lit my first cigarette of the day...it was when she said, "what do you know at 26?", in response to my "what could you possibly know at 18?" outburst...Ofcourse, i was mildly embarassed. Perhaps, beyond words. Not just for lack of tact, but for my obvious blunder. She was right in most avenue of thought...and my point on the subject matter was at a great disadvantage. I was smoking. Again...at 26. Something I deemed immature and unnecessary...at 18. And if age was truly proof of maturing, then I was obviously lacking in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's just that i have lived by the book all my life. i have done, or atleast TRIED, to do everything right. My college photos are emblematic of my "perfect" past. Never drunk. Never drugged. Always sober. There was never a time you'd catch me in a bad paparazzi moment...I followed the rules. Bended a little. But never broke it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so now i smoke. occassionally. big deal. I still AM the same person. I still have the same convictions. I still have the same desires, same passion, same fire. I still love being with my little angels, walking in the park, doing community service, talking to my mom, exchanging emails with my dad, shopping for my siblings, having dinner with friends, enjoying good conversations, and exploring about life in all its triviality. I still have the same questions. I still long for the right answers. I still LIVE for the same REASON.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  am still the same person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may not be able to stand the color PINK anymore...or blonde hair...or LV's or any letter handbags...or Jackie O sunglasses...shiny materials...xbox or pool...or the spotlight. I absolutely detest fakeness...the absence of loyalty...insecurity...and overconfidence. But I still can't get over pop music, hollywood glam, or world class travel. I still wear my old and tattered sweater, use my 3 year old sneakers, and own the same kind of wristwatch. I'm still the person an ex beau said most girls will always love to hate...but up to now, i still don't give a flying f--k.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For I still have the same loving friends.  The same loving family. Loved by the same  loving God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who am I?  someone who happens to have just started smoking again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a few liberties to aging, my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/020_6A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/020_6A.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/10359199-114067371072953950?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/114067371072953950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=114067371072953950' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114067371072953950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/114067371072953950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/02/when-growing-gets-tough.html' title='When the Growing gets TOUGH'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-113866667732591209</id><published>2006-01-30T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:22.542-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All Tuned Out</title><content type='html'>It's that time again....overworked and underpaid..underfed and lack of sleep.  I know I'm at that painful crucial point--- when I actually FEAR Fridays coming to an end because I know I only have the weekends to do my crap and that MONDAY is ohhh so near.  It's highly retarded...when it's supposed to be the weekend that gives you a sigh of relief.  But not for me.  Once again, not for me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time last year when I promised myself I would never let a day go by without sitting down and finishing my day to day reflection.  That was a few days before finals...I was studying for class, going to school at night, going to work in the morning, and doing my part time job mid-afternoon and the weekends.  I had 50 missed calls from my mother, 20 unheard v-messages, unreplied text messages, unmailed xmas cards and thank u cards, unfinished christmas shopping, and endless chores for myself and my siblings.  It was an 8am-10pm job with no f--kin time to sleep...no time to eat...no room to breathe.  And I was borderline losing the only guy patient enough to let me go on with my very laboring life that I ,ofcourse, eventually lost him.  It's funny.  But to be in an actual relationship is now very foreign to me.  No thanks to the City that makes it acceptable to be busy.  Yeah...yeah...yeah.  I know i've raised a few brows when I say this.  But gimme a freakin' break, people.  I can get myself free dinner ANY FRIGGIN TIME.  (Though I find it so ummm low class when a woman can't pay for her own meal.  It's a power FEEL to be able to pay for your meal. YET, it takes a real gentleman to INSIST to take the tab. Ofcourse, im talking about dates or non-verbal getting to know you dinner.  But if you don't like the guy, just please pay for your own, or better yet, DON'T GO.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bestfriend who just got back from the PI and I were talking about the extreme changes we've gone through after living the NYC lifestyle for years.  Half a decade ago, we were the prima donna FOBS who were used to having people bend down to our liking.  We fit the City's shopping and fashion style with our parents luxury gift watches and LV hnadbags.  During our initial months, we would go shopping on fifth for Cartier watches without being turned away bec we had the card to swipe.  Until the day came when we decided to live in it that we realized we were always running on EMPTY lives.  With no jobs or greencards, we had to find one.  To find one, we had to settle for minimum salary...which meant, ugly apartments.  We had to room with our friends, cut down our spending, limit our night life, and start making ends meet.  We lived experiencing being short for everything---subway rides, dinner, movies, and rent.  We were used to getting phone calls fr friends who needed cash to get home, pay for takeouts, or even a date! =) We had rooms the size of our closet back home...remembering that even our maid's quarters were even bigger!  It was physically draining.  Sometimes, even emotionally upsetting.  But in the end, soulfully enriching.  As I look at friends who were once always on Manila's society pages now content having a meal at Saigon Grill at 10$ per person...I wouldn't trade the experience for anything.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, our friends back home are in Congress...or the mayor or governor for a town or city.  Others are constantly on pages of magazine or running a magazine.  While some choose to be on television...or choose not to work at all.  Then there are those who simply travel for pleasure...paint...write a book...sing or DJ!=)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though we are all still the same person, we've led different lives.  And that...makes all the difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's unusual.  To be in a place where it's not the most travelled.  To be singled out bec youre not part of the frame...Today, i gave myself a pat on the shoulder for NOT feeling high and mighty having our news bureau chief take over my story to air all over the Philippines...It was MY story.  My piece of work.  My intellectual property.  It's like writing a song and having someone else sing it.  It was disappointing...but I can get over it.  I cuss at myself for having to give up school this semester only to give myself more time to do a job that's not improving. Yet I refuse to acknowledge it was a waste of time or lapse in judgment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But i'm all blown out...ready to burst at any given moment.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a little bit of peace...a stretch on the beach...a glimpse of the night sky would be nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again who gives a fly?  When it is never my heart that matters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-113866667732591209?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/113866667732591209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=113866667732591209' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/113866667732591209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/113866667732591209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/01/all-tuned-out.html' title='All Tuned Out'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-113703506709924886</id><published>2006-01-11T17:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:21.467-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fear and Forgiveness</title><content type='html'>It is excruciating to be let down by someone you trust.  I often describe it as a moment of great depression.  Its like training for a tennis match with your doubles partner for years, only to find out that they will never show up for the game.  It's like being a target for murder but they missed the shot, only to wish they didn't as you turn around and see who made the liberty of making the shot.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I value loyalty above all when it comes to friendship. There is no wrong or right when it comes to partners and friends.  Even if mistakes are made on their behalf, you will gladly take the wrong side as oppose to the right side, because that's how it is.  That's how it should always be.  Ofcourse, when the doors are closed and you know fully well that he's in such a deep rut, you gladly show him to the door of righteousness.     But never openly.  Never humiliatingly.  Never self-righteously.  It is the unspoken vow between friends-- to stand by them even if all you have are sticks and stones, while the rest...well, let's just say they come with an army fit for presidential defense.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It becomes a gloomier road when you find out that such loyalty escapes your loved-ones or friends.  It becomes even more menacing when you find out there was never such to begin win.  So you barricade yourself from these people who have crucified you to tears.  Never forgetting the stains of your broken past.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, it is the cry of my elders that shakes my brain dead.  It is their threat of creating FEAR within me for opposing to mend my bridges.  It is burdening you with guilt and the illusion of fire when you lack what they call the humility to forgive.  It is trying to unstabilize you with the wrath of your offender, and the fear that they will never bridge the gap unless you apologize.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrong.  Only God can cause me to fear.  Only God can cause me to break...  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for forgiveness, it becomes harder to dispense as the wound still refuses to heal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But don't misinterpret.  It is not an achievement to be able to carry such burden of pain.  Especially if the cause is not to save mankind... It is simply a sign of FAILURE despite the readiness to love and kill.  It is a reminder of stupidity for ever trusting yourself to believe.  To believe that there is a love worth fearing for, is a love worth holding on to.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there such earthly love that will cause me to fear?  My heart has lost all hope for love. Yet, it longs to find its greatest fear---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the One Great Love that will either put me to rest or get me confirmed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that LOVE does not always have to be FEARED.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-113703506709924886?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/113703506709924886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=113703506709924886' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/113703506709924886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/113703506709924886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2006/01/fear-and-forgiveness.html' title='Fear and Forgiveness'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-113601239905936188</id><published>2005-12-30T22:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:20.775-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking Chances</title><content type='html'>I've always lived my life confined by that yellow line.  Always living within the bounds of reason and appropriateness.  This road was never the popular one.  But neither was it empty.  There are others like me.  Putting faith in what is most ideal and suitable in the eyes of plenty.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Age has seemingly corrupted my better judgment of reason and right.  There have been moments when I have found myself barely hanging on to a cliff, almost ready to take the plunge.  Almost...but never quite entirely.  I have had my fair share of daredevil stunts and rollercoaster rides that include apple martinis on the side.  Yet i make sure that the next moment I wake up I have every bit of my dignity in tact.  Regret is an emotion I do not welcome.  It is fear that I must learn to overcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I FEAR.... of living a half-filled life.  Of letting a day go by, without sitting it in the sun...of dreaming of ice cream and candy, when I only have my salad fork in hand...of enjoying a book when i'm really working overtime...of deep conversations instead of just shaking a hand...of missing the plane, just to buy more time...of saying hello,  when it's really goodbye...&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;of taking a risk, instead of letting it---fly.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Or of moving on, when I should have just stayed behind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chances are, I make the decision that requires the smallest of leaps.  How far is the jump, you ask? I dunno.  I never really moved an inch...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-113601239905936188?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/113601239905936188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=113601239905936188' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/113601239905936188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/113601239905936188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/12/taking-chances.html' title='Taking Chances'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-113444634346003853</id><published>2005-12-12T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:20.533-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crossing Over Doubts</title><content type='html'>They say Santa's paying a visit to those who've been NICE....so I ask myself, have I been NICE? Let alone THIS year?     &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;If there was truly a list somewhere, would I be in it???&lt;/span&gt;  I suddenly came across this thought as I saw throngs of Santa walking downtown without their reindeers in tow one night.  Wow, could it be that even Mr. Claus had a bad year like me??? Alright, so maybe it wasn't that bad, but was it...good? Have I done anything this year that could win me a little bit of praise?  If I died today, would there be any action I could list down as great service? Would I... be getting through the pearly white gates?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little voice inside me insists I TRIED.  But my heart keeps asking...WAS IT HARD ENOUGH? Everytime I stay awake before going to bed I ask myself if I had made someone happy or have I made someone miserable?  If I have done neither, then it still leans over to the latter.  For what purpose is there if you cannot make anyone happy or sad?  It only means your presence has not made the slightest bit of difference. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so this is how it goes...my christmas countdown.  A never-ending internal battle of thoughts.  Have I been GOOD?  have I been BAD?  Have I made myself proud this year?  Have I made Santa proud this year?   If there was a life-o-meter, how would I score?  I wish finding out is as easy as playing a board game.  Roll the dice and you climb the ladder, role the dice and you slide down the chute.  And when time's up, all you have to do is figure out where you are...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either close to the finish line...or back to the start of it all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-113444634346003853?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/113444634346003853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=113444634346003853' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/113444634346003853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/113444634346003853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/12/crossing-over-doubts.html' title='Crossing Over Doubts'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-113003712332886111</id><published>2005-10-22T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:18.912-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gas Gauge must always be FULL</title><content type='html'>I almost flipped backwards when I heard the bouncer say, "forty!".  Forty freakin dollars!!! That's how much it was to get IN the bar my friend recommended me to try when I asked him what's a great place to hang out nowadays.  Not that I was dying to party, but my sister just arrived in town from the UK and all my cousins were with us to celebrate our small family reunion.  But forty bucks?  Who the F--k was in there? Kate Moss?!!!  I tried to regain my composure as I slowly turned my back to him and announced to everyone we were moving.  A group of young girls who were prob'ly in their early twenties eyed me with raised brows.  They were unmistakably dismissing me as a "cheapo"  when I refused to pay another NY city bar way more money than they deserve.  Brats... I returned their gaze with as much pride and prejudice as I held my own place....while trying to hide my own amusement as I allowed them to take their fill and eye me up and down.  This is MY game.  I have perfected this attitude since birth.  I can fire back to the bitchiest of attitude without saying a word.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am getting too old for this sh--!  I don't do velvet ropes anymore! Last time I lined up to get in a bar was when I was in Frisco with another cousin who wanted to go to some bday.  Even that didn't go well bec I immediately left the line to go to the closest PUB.  I don't have TIME to party.  And if not for good friends who are celebrating bdays or for family members who are in town to visit, you'd never see me partying till dawn anymore. If I do, it'll be in Paris where I am in the same establishment as Madonna or Gwyneth Paltrow! As if!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as my thoughts go back to those girls who were dressed to Saturday night's perfection, I remember my old self when I was their age and going through that "living the moment" phase.  God was I that shallow?! I lived looking forward to weekend night sessions of drinking and socializing with the right pair of Manolo's.  What a disgrace...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that I have something bad against going out at night or having a good time.  It's just that I have quietly allowed myslef to move on to the next station of my life that allows me to thoroughly enjoy life without the assistance of alcohol or pretentious chit chat.  I am not impressed with wealth or stature, of appearance or reputation, of job status or educational background.  I would much rather be with the company of the simple and the humble.  Those who conduct themselves in utmost composed and quiet elegance.  People who are bizarrely honest and downright open.  People who are exceptional by just being off-handedly funny and brutally kind.  People who are....hmmmm...say, TRUE.  While I roll my eyes at people, women especially,  who are weirdly pretending to be nice but deep down secretly wants you to stumble in your perfect black dress, I relish at the thought that there are some who will cheer you on in your pajamas and morning hair while you strut your stuff empty handed.  In this day and age, the glitz and the glam has slowly become a bore.  A chore even for me... since understandably, there will always be days when you have to dress to kill in order to be heard.  But really, how long can you keep someone's attention if you really have nothing between your ears?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know I'm not making any more sense...but it really frustrates me.  It frustrates me when some people come running to me and complain about how messed up their lives are and they think they can do absolutely nothing to change it.  Wake up!  We cannot insist on changing the world when we are running on EMPTY.  The only way we can start seeing improvement is when we begin to REFILL our lives with purpose and substance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was teaching religion class to a bunch of halflings in school, one of my pupils raised his hand to ask what was the greatest act that Jesus ever made among all other acts.  Ofcourse I replied with---the death of Jesus on the cross.  And to this seven year old I questioned back, "What would be yours if given the chance?"...his reply filled my heart with so much warmth only a mentor could ever understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"His cross...I'd carry His cross."&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;This is what I live for...a sense of purpose in a world that conducts itself nonchalant about the happenings of everyday life.  It feels good to know that somehow even the smallest act of service can make a difference in someone's life.  I felt an enormous amount of respect when I found out my cousin who recently ran for a marathon raised $7,000.  That's seven homes for seven families.  Now I have interviewed a lot of self-proclaimed runners for this fundraiser marathon.  While a lot of them have given me the same response about helping the poor and uplifting spirits, I was not totally impressed.  For most of them barely raised the minimun amount of money.  I think we have forgotten that in making a stand, it is not all about the finish line.  Sure they finished 26 miles, trained every weekend, busted their limbs and bones...but in the final analysis, how much money was given to the poor?  Was it really about the HOME or was it all about the RACE? Who were they running for???  Without $1,000 there is NO HOME.  If you did not do your best begging for donation, then you have totally missed the point.  YOU ARE RUNNING FOR EVERY DOLLAR that every person gifted you with and you are bringing that pot of gold to the finish line.  The heavier, the better....for what use is it to reach the end if you bring empty tidings?  It is like saying to God that you are finally here.  You've reached the end.  But when He asks where are the others, you say they're left behind.  You left them behind.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? Was the cross too burdensome to carry?  &lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes cuss me and mock me and judge me and hate me... throw me stones for not seeing the better side of the coin.  For lashing, instead of pardoning.  For telling, instead of listening.  For bursting your balloon, instead of letting it fly.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really, how far will you soar when your gas tank offering is only half-full???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-113003712332886111?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/113003712332886111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=113003712332886111' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/113003712332886111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/113003712332886111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/10/gas-gauge-must-always-be-full.html' title='Gas Gauge must always be FULL'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-112968070323851750</id><published>2005-10-18T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:18.671-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Current Fave....</title><content type='html'>You're Beautiful by James Blunt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;You're beautiful, it's true.&lt;br /&gt;I saw your face in a crowded place,&lt;br /&gt;And I don't know what to do,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'll never be with you.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****heard this song on the radio about a month and a half ago...leeanne, arlene, and regina thought I was making it up when I was singing it to them in the car.  Apparently, my dear sisters, it was big in the UK.  So, no...i am not making it up! =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-112968070323851750?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/112968070323851750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=112968070323851750' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112968070323851750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112968070323851750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/10/my-current-fave.html' title='My Current Fave....'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-112622511245651330</id><published>2005-09-08T14:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:18.456-08:00</updated><title type='text'>and as the curtain closes...</title><content type='html'>Yes indeed...my final blog.  It brings me of great sadness to come to a close and take my bows as a writer for my non-fictional life.  Yes my dear friends, my blogging days are over.  My wandering has finally come to an end...I have picked up every broken piece, found every missing puzzle, and healed every torn skin.  I have been revitalized in spirit, though once so badly burned.  I am ready to exit this rumble and head off to the door of righteousness.  No more heavy heart.  My guilt has been lifted.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, my flight to salvation land is far from over.  I have just found my seat.  But my seatbelt has been securely fastened, and my Savior did it for me.  For years I have been going round and round the terminals trying to find the right gate.  Once I may have found it, but they didn't let me on board.  My baggage was too heavy...My flight left without me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am ready to fly now.  Without any baggage...&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;LIVE as if it was your LAST!&lt;br /&gt;As soon as my plane touched down I rushed to the Garden to watch my favorite band play in concert.  Not even the lack of 32 hours of sleep, famine, or extreme tiredness could stop me from hearing my COLDPLAY live on stage.  I was exhausted, but I was alive. That was all that matters...If there is one thing my weekend has taught me its to live without holding anything back..to love without any fear...to move on without any regrets.  I have only one life to live.  And it SHALL be LIVED.  &lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;WAIT for TRUE LOVE&lt;br /&gt;Cherish your single life.  Take your time.  DO not settle.  Do not rush.  I got re-acquainted over Florida fever with someone I briefly met last year at a NJ conference.  I remember finding him intensely appealing, but I was with someone else at that time.  And to that someone else, I placed my loyalty.  Faithfulness is one of my greatest character.  I cherish friendship and relationships like how a mother is to a child.  And bec of that loyalty, i missed out on other friendships.  But bec of my waiting, I mended missed opportunities.  Better chances are given to those who wait.  Don't ever get tired of it.&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;MAKE A CONVICTION&lt;br /&gt;I have never been a chain smoker.  But I once smoked a whole lot, perhaps more than I should.  I have never done drugs.  I support chastity.  But I DO have my own demons.... Smoking was my bad habbit and drunkenness was my worst vice.  I would drink till I lost all graciousness, and smoke for the heck of it.  But I am sober.  And I am proud.  My friends, it is doable...achievable...and utterly wonderful as long as you remain successful.  It can happen.  It will happen.  Stand your ground. &lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;LET GO&lt;br /&gt;There are things that are never meant to happen and you must decide for yourself to move on.  The quicker, the better.  I have always believed no man is worth your tears.  If he was, then he wouldn't make you cry.  I was waiting for that stab of hurt when i saw someone I used to go out with with someone else.  But it never came.  It was more of the feeling of awkwardness bec I knew our friendship will never be the same.  My friend did ask me if I were honest from the beginning, would I think he would have been with me?  All I can say is, this baggage has finally been sealed and drifted off to sea.  If something was meant to happen, it should have happened.  If not, it was never in the world meant to be.  &lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;SMILE at the UNEXPECTED&lt;br /&gt;I had the most amazing labor day weekend of my life.  Despite the craziness of it all-- the stressful job, the messed up lifestyle... you form friendships, build your confidence, and find your once lost self.  The best thing was bumping into people that would never have made you turn around, but did.  "Strangers are friends you just have to get to know..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as I said, this is it, my final piece (or maybe not).  I have brought you with me to this roller coaster of a ride and have often witnessed me puking my shitty complaints on line.  But as it happens, it only takes a matter of evaluation.  A stepping back of some sort...a "finding yourself" phase that may take a short while for some or a lifetime for others...It really depends you see.  Some people may chose to stay in the muddy pit and refuse to get help, while some may decide they have absolutely have had ENOUGH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Retribution comes so sweet when the body is no longer too ill of its misery and the heart is willing to be free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-112622511245651330?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/112622511245651330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=112622511245651330' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112622511245651330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112622511245651330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/09/and-as-curtain-closes.html' title='and as the curtain closes...'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-112312769014255715</id><published>2005-08-03T20:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:18.034-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SF Madness: Napa in the morning, City at Night!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/napa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/napa.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/napa2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/napa2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/napa3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/napa3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/SF2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/SF2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/1600/SF1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6541/797/320/SF1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-112312769014255715?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/112312769014255715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=112312769014255715' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112312769014255715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112312769014255715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/08/sf-madness-napa-in-morning-city-at.html' title='SF Madness: Napa in the morning, City at Night!'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-112259247591711594</id><published>2005-07-28T16:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:17.806-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's like the blind leading the blind...that's how my good friend Leeanne puts it.  I go rushing to her like a wounded child is to her mom.  Sobbing and weeping and hopelessly crying for attention.  Stubbornly expecting to be eased.  Helplessly wanting to be cured.  The problem is-- she's no mom, but a wounded child as well.  I keep on forgetting that the whole universe is possessed with disgruntled individuals who are in desperate need of control.  Anything out of our hands is excruciatingly awful.  Not knowing the outcome?  Being left in the dark?  Taking the road less traveled?  It's like being the queen of the chessboard...and having all the right moves, but once your king is left unattended---checkmate.  All that power...When will wisdom reign a heart that endures no reason but pain?  When will the hoping end and the truth begin?  How many times must the wording be rephrased in order to see through that which does not need to be said?  Even queens must cave in sometimes...For the heart of the matter is not about when to give up, but admitting to your shame.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-112259247591711594?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/112259247591711594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=112259247591711594' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112259247591711594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112259247591711594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/07/its-like-blind-leading-blind.html' title=''/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-112032077170097271</id><published>2005-07-02T08:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:17.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wimbledon Mania!!!</title><content type='html'>I have always loved the game.  But like some loves, we lose interest.  For some reason or another, over the years, I refused to get back in the game.  I neither played it or watched it.  It disappointed me...Like some fans, we lose our drive.  Our idols have slowly withered and left which leaves us with so little enthusiasm.  There's no one to root for.  No one to watch out for.  No one to be inspired with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was six when my dad introduced me to this game called tennis.  It was the only hobby I was interested to learn more of while I hid during piano or ballet lessons.  I remember staying up late nights to watch championship games with him, and feeling like a sure winner if any of my favorite players won.  I would weep like a newborn seeing Michael Chang lose or Capriati never make it to semi-finals.  I would laugh hysterically remembering how back in the day Agassi could jump over the net and blow a kiss to his opponent leaving everyone in the court dumbfounded.  It was the good days...the better days of tennis.  Then slowly, my favorites started retiring as new comers start to dominate the matches.  I remembered going out for drinks with my friend after the legendary Pete Sampras decided to take his bows.  I was crushed.  It is very rare to find elegant and goodlooking idols on court.  Now, what reason is left for me to watch? =)  Anyway, as the William sisters ended up playing championships year after year, i totally lost concern.  I knew they were going to win every single time.  It felt like the ones who are destined to beat them weren't even born yet.  So I decided to stop watching.   Not until..Andy Roddick.  Ok, ok..he is gorgeous.  But you have to agree he has such an amazing serve!  For some time, it felt addicting watching him display all that power at such a young age.  It was like, whoa...can anyone serve that fast?!  But like most athletes, conceit turns a lot of fans off.  There was too much arrogance...I was saddened.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to Wimbledon '05... Now that I have a lot of time watching television news and sports, I decided to follow up on my tennis roots.  I was shocked.  Finally, a truly beautiful tennis player on court who can actually PLAY some amazing tennis.  That Sharapova is a sure embarassment to Kornikova.  And Davenport!  I am sure glad she's back in the game...I hope she pushes off retirement.  She could come off like a boring tennis player, but I like her. And my Andy Rodick...sigh.  Well, you all know who I'm rooting for for the Championship.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for you tennis fans who have slipped away, there is much reason to stay.  The game is back.  The drive is back.  Let the games bagin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you all at the US OPEN.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-112032077170097271?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/112032077170097271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=112032077170097271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112032077170097271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112032077170097271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/07/wimbledon-mania.html' title='Wimbledon Mania!!!'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-112022612020554070</id><published>2005-07-01T06:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:16.679-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 4th of July!</title><content type='html'>Enjoy the long weekend, guys!  Happy beach time...grab a good book!  Will update as soon as I get back!  Be safe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-112022612020554070?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/112022612020554070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=112022612020554070' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112022612020554070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/112022612020554070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/07/happy-4th-of-july.html' title='Happy 4th of July!'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-111919681511287699</id><published>2005-06-19T07:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:15.789-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Don't ever under estimate the power of kind words.  It's priceless.  You may be able to milk flattery, but you cannot depend on its sincerity.  In some cases, the words spoken are not exactly kind.  But they're just what you need to hear.  On other days, some people just say things out of the ordinary.  Yet even the ordinary circumstance becomes extra special when it catches you off guard and hits you right through the eye.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing that makes people interesting to me is the beef of what they have to say.  Often times people can rant on and on about issues and politics, finance or job responsibilities, poverty or Iraq, God or relationships, but it doesn't really stain on you.  I have met so many well-conversed and extremely informed people about whatever area of expertise they are in, but they all have the same quality. They are too self-involved...They love hearing themselves speak.  They love being heard.  But...does it move you??? Is it genuine? When a person speaks passionately about something, there is not a drop of vanity in their tone of conversation.  Infact, it is the absence of self that makes it more interesting to listen to.  Somewhere along the way you may be fortunate enough to encounter people who speak in such manner.  Sometimes, they could even be more than just selfless and interesting.  They could be downright hilarious and boisterously cheerful.  Unfortunately, they dont come in flocks.  Sigh... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am lucky enough to have met such handful of people in my lifetime.  They have moved me one way or the other.  They have inspired me to total transformation perhaps not even knowing they have.  Someone once said to me to "give until it hurts...until it hurts no more"...at another time someone said.."if you choose not to love others, then you choose not to love God".   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's just words.  But see, WORDS when said at the right moment, at the right context...with the very best intentions, can move you.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are your friends stuck in the same spot?  Move them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-111919681511287699?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/111919681511287699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=111919681511287699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111919681511287699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111919681511287699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/06/dont-ever-under-estimate-power-of-kind.html' title=''/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-111828631034629083</id><published>2005-06-08T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:15.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Queen of Disgrace</title><content type='html'>I AM afterall, the biggest KLUTZ in the world!  No, I don't need anyone to remind me.  I can tell you, everything embarassing you can ever think of--- has, and if not, will happen to ME.  I'm not usually distorted.  It's just that, when I am caught off-handed, I really make the worst scene.  Believe me!!! Perhaps because my mind is just discombobulated with personal issues, the heat, work, or just plain boredom, I really can get myself into a whole new dimension of obliviousness.  That or its just the New Yorker attitude of I don't give a damn or get out of my way! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I elevated my dorkiness to the highest power when I attended the first day of summer class.  My prof was in the process of introducing himself to the rest of us and I was able to write his name down.  Someone next to me suddenly leaned over and asked, "What's the name?"...I looked up and saw one of the most gorgeous guys I have ever seen up close and responded to him with MY name.  Shit!  Ofcourse he tried making me feel better by saying it was nice to meet me but he explained he really was interested to know what our teacher's name was...Could I have been more shamed???!   I have been in this situation so many times you'd think i would be used to it.  But no...every shameful moment just gets more shameful every single time!  A week ago, I remembered leaving my car unlocked in the garage as I was getting ready for bed.  So I put on my most comfortable orange robe, spongebob fuzzy sleepers, dorkiest eyeglasses and went straight to my car just to lock it.  In the elevator on the way back to my pad, two people shouted to hold the elevator.  I didn't! i wouldn't be caught dead wearing what I was wearing! Unfortunately, they caught it just in time to share my supposedly personal ride back upstairs! Unbearable!  Two cute guys living in my same building and of all the days to get stuck with them, God chose tonight!  To make it worse, our ride stopped on one floor and refused to move.  So they had to get out and switch elevators while I was soooo content to stay inside the non-working one till they left.  It didn't happen.  They waited and asked if I was coming and i was forced to share another unbearable ride with them....How unspeakable!  My friends, my dear friends who are supposed to make me feel better when I shared them my stories chose to laugh their socks off instead of making me feel better.  I know I said i don't care much about appearance.  But there is a big difference between not caring about how you look to LOSING your DIGNITY!  And I have successfully done just that!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breaking stuff, slipping, having your phone ring in inappropriate places, getting hollered at by teenagers, banging into a post, calling the wrong person, sending text messages precisely to people who are not supposed to get them...etc...I've done it all!  If there was a wanted list of dorks in the universe I will be in it. Fine! But before you place your bets as to who's going to fall in the man hole next,  all I have to say is this...thank God for people like me! hahaha Man, i may be messed up at times but i sure don't make the world a boring place.  Imagine if everyone else was so perfect..so prim..so proper?  Imagine if no one ever said the wrong word or do the weirdest of things?  Imagine if everone did just what their expected to do without trying to experience new things?  If that's how the world is, then I'm sure glad to be different.  I may be a klutz, but I do have some good moments.  Infact, it's my klutziness that gets me noticed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't be afraid to err.  It's what makes us human.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-111828631034629083?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/111828631034629083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=111828631034629083' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111828631034629083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111828631034629083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/06/queen-of-disgrace.html' title='Queen of Disgrace'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-111766213723608081</id><published>2005-06-01T13:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:14.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>May the Right Force be with you...Always.</title><content type='html'>The dark side of the force is strong with me.  A little too strong.  Every year I go through this rebellion stage where nothing else matters...Not even ME.  I let go of everything that is substantial in my life and not worry about the consequence of my actions.  It is liberating...gratifying...free.  But just before you totally surrender to the dark side, one pivotal moment comes...and you realize that you're not ready to go Darth Vader after all.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My moment came just when I was throwing my insides out on the streets causing friends to prob'ly squirm as they witness my very undignified act of carelessness.  I was wasted.  It was humiliating... When I was done, I was trying my very best not to burst into tears.  I may have lost control, but I certainly wasn't ready to lose my grace.  Fine, fine...I prob'ly already did.  But the thing is, I couldn't really give a damn anymore.  As Howie Day's song goes, "even the best fall down sometimes...even the stars refuse to shine..."  You see, if I had to give major importance to appearance and stature, then my quest for a meaningful life is hopeless. Everything physical is so trivial.  Everything apparent is so...superficial.  People can dress perfectly...wear the right clothes, the right make-up, have the best body, but that is so not...lasting.  &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; What is essential after all is what is invisible to the eye. &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok..I am not justifying my errors.  God knows there is no way I can get this one right.  But I yearn to make it right somehow.  I just have to use the force ;)  or find the one that will bring balance to the force.  Funny, a friend of mine who I saw a few days ago had this apologetic expression on his face and was trying his best to want to explain about prob'ly not calling in months.  I tried to supress a grin.  I was debating whether I should give him a hard time or let it go pretty easy.  He obviously didn't know me well at all.  This is my turf.  Failed relationships is what i am good at.  I don't need closure.  I move on quickly.  Although I applaud the man who will never leave without facing up to whatever consequence, I don't expect it.  Not from most men.  There are after all, only, &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;a few good men&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm unpacking the last few boxes in the new apartment now.  I'm also slowly regaining my composure.  My roommate says "welcome back!".  Damn, it feels good to be back.  No cigarette packs...no wine bottles...no expensive shopping.  It's just me and my music...my books...my friends...my family...my God.  I struck out. But Im back on base.  Ready to hit my homerun.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really...i swear i can hear Yoda speaking to my ear somehow.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May the Good Force be with you. Always.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-111766213723608081?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/111766213723608081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=111766213723608081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111766213723608081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111766213723608081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/06/may-right-force-be-with-youalways.html' title='May the Right Force be with you...Always.'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-111699177745895728</id><published>2005-05-24T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:14.682-08:00</updated><title type='text'>God is a Comedian</title><content type='html'>Some people find it peculiar…my conversations with God.  I converse with Him the same way I converse with any man, out loud.  No I don’t murmur my thanks or talk to Him in my thoughts.  I speak.  I speak with Him as if He was around.  Well, He is.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday I voice out all my concerns, ummm errrrr, complaints.  Everyday He listens to me whine and gripe about my very mundane life.  It never ends.  My God and I.  We’re a team…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes He gets me into trouble.  Perhaps a reminder that He still has the upper hand and I have to be more submissive to His plan.  Like that day.  I will never forget.  There was this lady that used to work as a receptionist/secretary at my workplace.  She hated me.  The feeling was very much mutual.  She was never kind to me.  Always had the worst to say every morning.  Always made sure she was the bringer of bad news.  If she could make me feel like a total retard, she would.  And oftentimes, she succeeded.  She’s brought me to tears, think about quitting my job, and live in total misery.  In short, she made my work life hell…One day, unlike most days, I was extremely late for work.  I’m usually just late, but this time I was exceptionally late.  As I was rushing down the corner to park my car, I hit this shiny silver accord with a bang.  I died.  It was the wicked witch’s car.  I knew it was over.  I could either run away and save myself from the shot, or I could come out clean and suffer eternally.  I lost.  I told her the truth….  But lo and behold, instead of reporting me to the police and be taken away in handcuffs, she gave me this strange look and did not say a word.  She got up to check her car and the most amazing thing happened.  Hers didn’t have even just a tiny bit of scratch.  And mine, mine was as good as new.  Maybe it was my lucky day or maybe she was just in a good mood, but she gave me a hug and said it was OK.  From that day on, she was my best friend.  She’s quit her job but up to now, I get cards from her during special occasions. Whew!&lt;br /&gt;---------------&lt;br /&gt;How about that one time back in college when I stayed up all night partying knowing I had a long reading to do?  Unforgettable.  I decided I was just going to come in late for class the next day thinking our orals would have been done by then and I would just be in  time for lecture.  So I went in 45 minutes later calculating for sure I already missed orals.  I was wrong.  In the middle of her lecture, she stopped.  She called the last girl that just came in to stand right infront of class and summarize the entire reading.  That girl was me… Unsurprisingly, I flunked my orals.  But fortunately, I passed the class.&lt;br /&gt;---------------&lt;br /&gt;You’d think I’d get the drift.  But every now and then I lose focus and I am given a much deserved spanking.  Often times we come to think that we are in total control and nothing else matters but ourselves.  We live our lives doing good only to those who are good to us….loving only those who love us…forgiving only those who seek us.   How come?  Can’t we go the extra mile?  Can’t we reach out the other hand?  When both our hands are full, why not lend our feet instead???.......In every risky situation, I try to find humor in it knowing fully that I will never be abandoned.  At times when even I question the outcome, doubt the results, or disagree with the verdict, I let nature take its course knowing it is not my call of judgment, but my duty to follow.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very recently, I’ve finally bowed down to my failed attempts of reconciliation with a friend.  I’ve come to the point where I no longer hope for anything but friendship.  I realized no matter how much I insist on something, I cannot just will it for myself.  It must also be willed by the other.  If not, then all efforts are left in vain.  So I called upon my Redeemer to redeem me once again.  I explained that I totally understand about wrong timing, wrong person, even wrong expectations.  I am finally ready to let it go…So I told Him.  I WAS READY.  I was ready for the real thing...for the real ONE.  No more wasting my time or making up excuses.  No more fear of commitment or fear of rejection.  No more.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there around the corner, out of nowhere, I come face to face with my fear.  And I was totally not ready.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very funny…but thanks for reminding me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-111699177745895728?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/111699177745895728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=111699177745895728' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111699177745895728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111699177745895728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/05/god-is-comedian_24.html' title='God is a Comedian'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-111621491268978825</id><published>2005-05-15T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:13.981-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Thoughts, anyone?</title><content type='html'>I need to hear some happy stories from people to get me through this week.  Share your thoughts...inspire the weakest of hearts. Comments, anyone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-111621491268978825?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/111621491268978825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=111621491268978825' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111621491268978825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111621491268978825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/05/happy-thoughts-anyone.html' title='Happy Thoughts, anyone?'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-111517907778817101</id><published>2005-05-03T18:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:12.819-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I do believe.  Now that Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise are officially dating according to TIME, I have once again restored my faith in fairy tales.   This means, my chances of marrying Brad Pitt may not be so far-fetched after all.  Whew! What a relief! =)   Anyway, it’s nice to be side-tracked once in a while by stories such as this.  It gives room for some amusement in your busy schedule.  Really, unlike most people, I am happy to hear this news flash.  I am the kind of person who finds happiness when others are truly happy.  Well, alright… I don’t know how much truth there is in Hollywood, but the idea of two people finding love is so…romantic.  It gives you…hope.     Ok.  So that’s prob’ly all there is to it, hope.  But isn’t HOPE such a great thing?  I know how other people love saying- don’t keep your hopes up-, but why?  Why shouldn’t we? Why not hope for the best?  Wait for the best?  Endure for the best?.....Don’t I deserve the best?  Don’t YOU?&lt;br /&gt;_____________&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-111517907778817101?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/111517907778817101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=111517907778817101' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111517907778817101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111517907778817101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/05/i-do-believe.html' title=''/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-111446410796851063</id><published>2005-04-25T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:12.384-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reasons to Smile</title><content type='html'>Ok, ok, so I have been a little bit of “MIA”  these past few weeks.  But I do read your messages!  And yes, I appreciate your feedback.  It’s just that I have been swarmed with work due to finals. ( I had to finish editing a news piece I started more than a month ago and I wanted it to be brilliant!) As hoped, my story was how I wanted it to be and my professor thought it was absolutely FAB! =)  When I heard this I was elated! Like a kid hitting a homerun on his first try at bat.  I couldn’t ask for more…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also in the process of moving.  Finally!  Yes, so it’s my fifth move in four years!  I’m glad it’s happening at this time though which is why I am looking forward to moving into my new place.  I find it to be therapeutic especially at times when I am officially on LOA from my life and responsibilities.  A move signals a change.  It means packing up your stuff, sorting out what’s indispensable and what’s expendable, and moving forward.   It means leaving behind all the shattered and broken pieces of your life.  It means, letting go.  No more days of waiting—for that doorbell that will never ring, for that car that will never pull over, for that package that will never arrive.  It means a new home, new life, new memories.  Not that I can’t stay put and mend my bridges.  It’s just that there’s another world to conquer.  Only this time, I come prepared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish there was a book handed down from generation to generation that would explain the rules of adulthood.  I wish there was a guideline of some sort as to how you are expected to behave and respond.  Or at least a warning, that there will be a load of responsibilities ahead and you should take your time being a kid and enjoy life without worrying about rent or credit card payments or the right career choice.  I wish there was a secret box of revelation that would warn you of what lies ahead and you can easily duck the heavy hits, miss the fall, or escape the unforgettable big blows.   It’s frustrating!  To be back on the same track and still not know what to do.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the same time, how could anyone write a book about the rules of intimacy?  And explain when to cross the line, or when to stay put?  When to give in or when to give up?  When to say more or when to say less?  When to take the chance or when to let go? That darn book can’t tell you what you’re going through! Even your friends don’t know what you’re going through.  How would they know what’s best for you?  They can’t. You just have to find it out on your own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But do not worry.  It will offend God…It’s just like what I say to my kids when they come running to me with a cut or a bruise or a broken spirit, “You’ll live!”&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Reasons to smile:&lt;br /&gt;1. for a sunny day after a downpour of rain&lt;br /&gt;-sit on a bench by a park...have your own designated place...read..converse with  someone next to you...indulge in scoopfulls of ice cream or yogurt...relax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. for a good show&lt;br /&gt;-i've finally come across a tv show I would actually rush home to watch, Grey's Anatomy! It's a must see!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. for a friend who'll say just what you need to hear&lt;br /&gt;-i asked a friend of mine as we were trying on some new swimsuits for the summer if I should be concerned about my body getting bigger.  She feigns carelessness and says, "u're perfect!"..hahaha thanks, ys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. for a mechanic who does more for your car than what is paid for&lt;br /&gt;-his name was Manny.  He fixed my car...cleaned it..and wrote down everything I needed to do..he called a friend to fix my rear and gave me a good deal.  I could have kissed him!  Angels...always in disguise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. for an unexpected phone call from someone you miss&lt;br /&gt;-it takes a great deal of courage to let go of one's pride and just dial the phone..but for someone who just wants to know how've u've been, how's school, how'd you do in your report, and all the little things happening in ur life, it's humbling.  I personally make a mental record of what is gng on with friends..If you can't ask them, just pray for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  for a song you've been waiting for on the radio&lt;br /&gt;-yes! I love it every time it happens! My current faves, You and Me by Lifehouse and He will Carry Me, christian music by mark shultz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. for a warm hug &lt;br /&gt;-my kids give me this every day and I sometimes take it for granted...warm hugs from children are an absolute blessing...they're fr the heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  for a free meal&lt;br /&gt;-don't you just love it when a friend comes over with a bag of pad thai even after you promised them you will never complain about your life again but it never happens?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  for a good deal&lt;br /&gt;-when you realized your 5 dollar purchase is worth 15 at the end of the block!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. for a friend who's back in town&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-111446410796851063?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/111446410796851063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=111446410796851063' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111446410796851063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111446410796851063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/04/reasons-to-smile.html' title='Reasons to Smile'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10359199.post-111394515522773189</id><published>2005-04-19T13:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:20:12.139-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Top Ten Picks</title><content type='html'>Top Ten Places You Must Visit in the US!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. 1 NEW YORK CITY!&lt;br /&gt;      The place you'd love coming home to everytime you leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. 2 San Francisco&lt;br /&gt;      The place that makes you fall in love more and more everytime you visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. 3 Seattle&lt;br /&gt;      The place that will take your breath away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. 4 Colorado&lt;br /&gt;      The place to seek refuge.  A mecca for people who love to ski.  A dreamland for people who love the earth.       &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. 5 Hawaii&lt;br /&gt;      Paradise from sunset to sunrise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. 6 Wyoming&lt;br /&gt;      The place you will never forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. 7 Las Vegas&lt;br /&gt;      the perfect place to cross that line and start letting go.  Live a little! Go get a tatoo! =) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. 8 Chicago&lt;br /&gt;      The fall-back place when the plane to NY is full.  You should always have a fall-back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. 9 Florida&lt;br /&gt;      Hollywood next to the beach!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. 10 LA&lt;br /&gt;      Because all your friends are there!  Sometimes, all it takes is a familliar face to be reason enough to fly!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10359199-111394515522773189?l=badscorpuz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/feeds/111394515522773189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10359199&amp;postID=111394515522773189' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111394515522773189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10359199/posts/default/111394515522773189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://badscorpuz.blogspot.com/2005/04/my-top-ten-picks.html' title='My Top Ten Picks'/><author><name>noelle perez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02944414099292694447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='29' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N8dvuGzo2ZI/TI63ztmH2UI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TOSbFB4HnAI/S220/blog'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
