<?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-8775945997116294442</id><updated>2011-09-13T11:27:08.252-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dancing Dead</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-8676409894499205045</id><published>2011-04-23T01:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T01:18:31.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Running Away</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;For fuck's sake please stop torturing me!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gm9g_z4JwII/TbKG99PRsKI/AAAAAAAAAEs/rBtrGo9gLsc/s1600/tumblr_lckhf0h8qP1qbqk7ao1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="260" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gm9g_z4JwII/TbKG99PRsKI/AAAAAAAAAEs/rBtrGo9gLsc/s400/tumblr_lckhf0h8qP1qbqk7ao1_400.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;And again, I've grew tired of this game but still am not giving up, why? WHY? I should get over it by now! Fuck i should!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;By late January, he mentioned something about breaking me up. He's telling me this so that i could be ready when the day comes. I was so afraid, frustrated, angry, sad, suicidal and blah blah blah. Trust me, it's just the beginning of this pain. But then, there's something unusual. I felt something didn't go quite right since. Sigh, he still loves me, a lot. Fuck I know he still loves me a lot. But why break me up? I kept on asking why why why, give me the reasons why. At first he said he didn't know, stop asking him, he didn't wanna talk to me. Things like that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Early February, he mentioned again about this. By then I started crying every night, he cried too, but, what's the use, really? I was the one keeping our relationship strong, keeping the strings attached. Hoping he would come back, loving me like always. This month was just okay, nothing much about torturing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;March. We broke up at 20th March. Fuck my life, seriously just kill me. I mean, killing is the only way to stop the pain. I kept enduring it until now. He started being mean, didn't wanna talk, text blah blah blah. OH FUCK I'm so tired of this mess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;But I've got friends who i could rely on. OH, I forgot some parts of my story.. Gee, I'll bitch again sometime HAHA you won't believe what he did a week after the break up. KISS MAH ASS!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-8676409894499205045?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/8676409894499205045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2011/04/running-away.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/8676409894499205045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/8676409894499205045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2011/04/running-away.html' title='Running Away'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gm9g_z4JwII/TbKG99PRsKI/AAAAAAAAAEs/rBtrGo9gLsc/s72-c/tumblr_lckhf0h8qP1qbqk7ao1_400.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-7244738165629132161</id><published>2011-04-23T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T00:57:14.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>#galaunessattack</title><content type='html'>What's up guys? I've been out of blog for like ages and finally now I'm back to write something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iddg4KfIUcM/TbKD04QN4OI/AAAAAAAAAEo/I9GIbIHl0rw/s1600/tumblr_kx8m0ohfyw1qa5nd0o1_400_larg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="270" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iddg4KfIUcM/TbKD04QN4OI/AAAAAAAAAEo/I9GIbIHl0rw/s400/tumblr_kx8m0ohfyw1qa5nd0o1_400_larg.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Things have been going on so much lately and it's turning my life up-side-down. Seriously, all these school and family and work and friends are stressing the fuck outta me. OH! My Blackberry broke! Goddamn it! My phone won't ring when I received bbm, sms and call. So I thought my speaker exploded or something, but when I open a song, it's playing. On second thought, I think I should restart my phone to refresh it. And there, it won't open until now! It's been a week. A WEEK since I last used my Blackberry, now I'm back with Nokia, texting. Not bbming. My parents weren't angry but it seems like they don't even care at all cause my phone's still here. My dad went to Global Teleshop to claim for the warranty, but the salesperson said that we have to pay for some shit. So then he said it's not a good idea, maybe he'll ask his friend in Jakarta to take care of it. URGH! I can't wait for it to recover.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I still have so many things to write about, but I think some of it deserves it's own tittle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-7244738165629132161?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/7244738165629132161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2011/04/galaunessattack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/7244738165629132161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/7244738165629132161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2011/04/galaunessattack.html' title='#galaunessattack'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iddg4KfIUcM/TbKD04QN4OI/AAAAAAAAAEo/I9GIbIHl0rw/s72-c/tumblr_kx8m0ohfyw1qa5nd0o1_400_larg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-5846856293002370001</id><published>2010-12-16T21:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T21:18:30.791-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to Townsville and love is in the air.</title><content type='html'>"What did we&amp;nbsp; tell you about stealing, Mojo Jojo." - The Power Puff Girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQrvjLLfY7I/AAAAAAAAAEY/Endee8DHHP8/s1600/tumblr_kuio1m4QkB1qa174io1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="301" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQrvjLLfY7I/AAAAAAAAAEY/Endee8DHHP8/s400/tumblr_kuio1m4QkB1qa174io1_500.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;what happened to them nuns?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;What happened to me either? I feel so dead, unalive. UGH this is really bad. So, yea, I've been wondering about what to do and where to go but things never come out right, holidays' are supposed to be happy and spending my day outside, hanging out with my friends and so on. But the good thing is, a friend of mine, Michelle Adriana, she's coming to my house soon for a make up class, I can see how excited she is cause she really likes eyeliner and stuff, ad she wants me to teach her, YAY Imma make up tutor now!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQrx45ep9DI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8APtb2FNI0Y/s1600/103974037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQrx45ep9DI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8APtb2FNI0Y/s400/103974037.jpg" width="265" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Blair and Elle Fowler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I've been watching their videos, all day since holiday started, cause I'm never bored watching them and I don't know why. Much probably because they're funny and really sweet, reviewing products and make up tutorials. OH they are the best!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-5846856293002370001?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/5846856293002370001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/welcome-to-townsville-and-love-is-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/5846856293002370001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/5846856293002370001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/welcome-to-townsville-and-love-is-in.html' title='Welcome to Townsville and love is in the air.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQrvjLLfY7I/AAAAAAAAAEY/Endee8DHHP8/s72-c/tumblr_kuio1m4QkB1qa174io1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-8579862493654277595</id><published>2010-12-16T05:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T05:46:11.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I must never probe your existant</title><content type='html'>All dates are official&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQoV7J6JPYI/AAAAAAAAAEU/l5BrWVPflI4/s1600/tumblr_ksol0agZN41qzbvr6o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQoV7J6JPYI/AAAAAAAAAEU/l5BrWVPflI4/s400/tumblr_ksol0agZN41qzbvr6o1_500.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, is bad. Cause my boyfriend took me out to the mall, well, as promised. And something bad happened. His sister called and needs him to fetch her cause her boyfriend is unable to do that. It was planed, well planed that he'd take me home at 6 something pm, and at 3 pm, he had to take me home. Which is sad. And no, I'm not angry, just upset that we haven't really met in days and finally we have the chance to go out together and it's ruined. I don't blame him nor I blame anyone, just felt uneasy and hard to deal with this feeling. I know I know, I'm pathetic. I'm not being a crybaby or anything, but this happened for so many times and I can't remember exactly how many times. This is sad. He yet promised me that he'd take me out again either today or tomorrow, he said he promised. Anddd, he spent his day today with his family, but I'm ok cause I know there's another promise for tomorrow. Then again, he said he couldn't take&amp;nbsp; me out tomorrow, I don't really know when again. It's really about the promise though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-8579862493654277595?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/8579862493654277595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-must-never-probe-your-existant.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/8579862493654277595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/8579862493654277595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-must-never-probe-your-existant.html' title='I must never probe your existant'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQoV7J6JPYI/AAAAAAAAAEU/l5BrWVPflI4/s72-c/tumblr_ksol0agZN41qzbvr6o1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-3628360891589232874</id><published>2010-12-16T05:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T05:24:19.464-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Death is peaceful, live is difficult.</title><content type='html'>h e l l o&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQoPpAH1ItI/AAAAAAAAAEM/xyyEzsGUVAk/s1600/tumblr_l5kuuvp4MK1qak4cto1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQoPpAH1ItI/AAAAAAAAAEM/xyyEzsGUVAk/s400/tumblr_l5kuuvp4MK1qak4cto1_500.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, someone here is whining about how boring the holiday is, no car, no cash, there's nothing I could do much about it. But I have my parents and my boyfriend to keep me un-boring, and I'm not really sure if they could do that. Dad must be really tired or busy with work and me being a good considerate daughter, I've decided to leave him with his work and take me out when he's free. While my boyfriend is always unavailable due to cash and transportation problem. Now I'm so screwed. Note that I'm not the one who loves money huh! I don't care if he doesn't have a car or cash, I want his time baby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQoQ8YGt4OI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/gFnflQ0bFM8/s1600/tumblr_l2hhfhsWcB1qbzmm7o1_250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQoQ8YGt4OI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/gFnflQ0bFM8/s400/tumblr_l2hhfhsWcB1qbzmm7o1_250.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would want to attend some parties somehow, or make one myself and invite my friends. But I surely know, organizing a party is really tiring and busy, and that I'm really short of cash now, how can throw a party?! OH NO I'm stuck in my house hoping that my boyfriend has the transportation to take me out, you know catch some movies, popcorns, some meals or anything, as long as I'm outside, my boring could decrease up to 80% maybe. SO, yeah, I hope the following days won't bore me much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-3628360891589232874?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/3628360891589232874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/death-is-peaceful-live-is-difficult.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/3628360891589232874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/3628360891589232874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/death-is-peaceful-live-is-difficult.html' title='Death is peaceful, live is difficult.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQoPpAH1ItI/AAAAAAAAAEM/xyyEzsGUVAk/s72-c/tumblr_l5kuuvp4MK1qak4cto1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-311811336153101431</id><published>2010-12-11T00:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T00:00:35.602-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You gain fat cause of your lies and being a bitch to the society.</title><content type='html'>is there anymore to gossip about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMuTSNtb0I/AAAAAAAAAEE/3eAuQe3oveI/s1600/tumblr_l8szb9Qdq11qazcemo1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="448" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMuTSNtb0I/AAAAAAAAAEE/3eAuQe3oveI/s640/tumblr_l8szb9Qdq11qazcemo1_500.gif" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Bored, stoned, sitting in your basement all alone&lt;br /&gt;'Cause your little  conversation's got around&lt;br /&gt;And look at what we all found out&lt;br /&gt;Lookie  here we all found out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That you have got a set of loose lips&lt;br /&gt;Twisting  stories all because you're jealous&lt;br /&gt;Now I know exactly what you're  all about&lt;br /&gt;And this is what you're all about&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMvhG17QkI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5cYyTOiChw4/s1600/tumblr_l5cyt8qMCd1qaswexo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="428" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMvhG17QkI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5cYyTOiChw4/s640/tumblr_l5cyt8qMCd1qaswexo1_500.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;this is for you, bitch!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;Girl, you're such a  backstabber&lt;br /&gt;Oh girl, you're such a shit talker&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-311811336153101431?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/311811336153101431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/you-gain-fat-cause-of-your-lies-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/311811336153101431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/311811336153101431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/you-gain-fat-cause-of-your-lies-and.html' title='You gain fat cause of your lies and being a bitch to the society.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMuTSNtb0I/AAAAAAAAAEE/3eAuQe3oveI/s72-c/tumblr_l8szb9Qdq11qazcemo1_500.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-8631434857713075011</id><published>2010-12-10T23:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T23:51:29.801-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe sometimes it's because of, us.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-size: large;"&gt;Nijiko Suryadikara&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-size: large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMppoELk9I/AAAAAAAAAD8/JvIcdaYn9Wg/s1600/Picture+054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMppoELk9I/AAAAAAAAAD8/JvIcdaYn9Wg/s400/Picture+054.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;trust me you don't look stupid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Nijiko, she's ma babe. So, we knew each other since grade 2, and that would be 10 years something of friendship. I wouldn't say we're bestfriends, we're just close and we do understand each other more than anyone does. TRUST ME. &lt;span style="background-color: black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Anyways, she could be a nerd if she wants to, I don't know man, but I feel like she studies a lot well maybe it's because I don't really study or what LOL. She stresses herself for wanting to be in the top 3 - Nijiko, that's not healthy - and sometimes I would say "don't stress that much".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMrtEdtu8I/AAAAAAAAAEA/7tzX4zRK9E8/s1600/Picture+050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMrtEdtu8I/AAAAAAAAAEA/7tzX4zRK9E8/s400/Picture+050.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We don't seem to like something in common except arts, she's really good at drawing! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Now I'm at lost for words, I don't seem to be creative enough blogging. OH NO I hate myself. Anyways, read her blog &lt;a href="http://www.phonyfacedlady.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cast The Spotlight&lt;/a&gt; for more stories of us, titled Nicole Lorenza.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Lots of love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-8631434857713075011?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/8631434857713075011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/maybe-sometimes-its-because-of-us.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/8631434857713075011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/8631434857713075011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/maybe-sometimes-its-because-of-us.html' title='Maybe sometimes it&apos;s because of, us.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMppoELk9I/AAAAAAAAAD8/JvIcdaYn9Wg/s72-c/Picture+054.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-9127890694971405131</id><published>2010-12-10T23:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T23:21:00.794-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The bridges are crumpled, the water soaks into rocks, that fell at the bottom of the road.</title><content type='html'>BITE ME&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMjdmzbMDI/AAAAAAAAAD4/GIGByyMvZ6w/s1600/tumblr_l890l5gztr1qcl0nbo1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="312" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMjdmzbMDI/AAAAAAAAAD4/GIGByyMvZ6w/s400/tumblr_l890l5gztr1qcl0nbo1_500_large.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Went to McDonald's this morning with my boyfriend, and again,&lt;strike&gt; I'm pregnant&lt;/strike&gt;. Get what that means?&lt;strike&gt;&lt;u&gt; I'M STUFFED. &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;Well, I kinda hate this feeling when I feel like throwing up. Anyways, my plans didn't seem to work because he had a lil incident at home and can't leave. What's worst is that he left his phone in my purse, well, we can't text and call, we could only chat a lil through Yahoo Messenger. And now he's doing something, taking care of some problem I guess, I heard that there's a car accident and they're kinda involved. So, yeah, I'm gonna go out with my parents later, and hang with my boyfriend some other day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-9127890694971405131?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/9127890694971405131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/bridges-are-crumpled-water-soaks-into.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/9127890694971405131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/9127890694971405131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/bridges-are-crumpled-water-soaks-into.html' title='The bridges are crumpled, the water soaks into rocks, that fell at the bottom of the road.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQMjdmzbMDI/AAAAAAAAAD4/GIGByyMvZ6w/s72-c/tumblr_l890l5gztr1qcl0nbo1_500_large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-6942030691638233121</id><published>2010-12-10T04:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T04:55:01.116-08:00</updated><title type='text'>These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder. Which, as they kiss, consume.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIitLxc48I/AAAAAAAAADw/DuzddET-XOo/s1600/tumblr_kpv8t4IBqS1qzdmhmo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIitLxc48I/AAAAAAAAADw/DuzddET-XOo/s400/tumblr_kpv8t4IBqS1qzdmhmo1_500.jpg" width="266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm so tired of being here, suppressed by all my childish fears&lt;br /&gt;And  if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave&lt;br /&gt;Your presence  still lingers here and it won't leave me alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These wounds won't  seem to heal, this pain is just too real&lt;br /&gt;There's just too much that  time cannot erase&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears&lt;br /&gt;When  you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears&lt;br /&gt;And I held your hand  through all of these years&lt;br /&gt;But you still have all of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You  used to captivate me by your resonating light&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm bound by the  life you left behind&lt;br /&gt;Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams&lt;br /&gt;Your  voice it chased away all the sanity in me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIi4hZhzvI/AAAAAAAAAD0/_n7K0EOOvwQ/s1600/tumblr_kvo91y6G3m1qzm4g5o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIi4hZhzvI/AAAAAAAAAD0/_n7K0EOOvwQ/s400/tumblr_kvo91y6G3m1qzm4g5o1_500.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone&lt;br /&gt;But though you're  still with me, I've been alone all along&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-6942030691638233121?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/6942030691638233121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/these-violent-delights-have-violent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/6942030691638233121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/6942030691638233121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/these-violent-delights-have-violent.html' title='These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder. Which, as they kiss, consume.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIitLxc48I/AAAAAAAAADw/DuzddET-XOo/s72-c/tumblr_kpv8t4IBqS1qzdmhmo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-7179122514928592483</id><published>2010-12-10T04:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T04:23:04.247-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She is as beautiful as a princess. She is smart.  She is the one who let's me down.</title><content type='html'>I love you, I love you, I love you, Beatrice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIV9HvARNI/AAAAAAAAADk/M7ybT9uqlI0/s1600/tumblr_lcb2qrf7HW1qbmy3eo1_500-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIV9HvARNI/AAAAAAAAADk/M7ybT9uqlI0/s400/tumblr_lcb2qrf7HW1qbmy3eo1_500-1.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beatrice, what a beautiful name. Let me introduce, she is my 10 years old little sister. Read my title again and you might ask why she lets me down. Well, we fight and argue &lt;strike&gt;everyday&lt;/strike&gt;, yes, &lt;strike&gt;everyday&lt;/strike&gt;. She's really good at talking back to me and parents when we nag at her. She'd ask me silly questions when she knew the answer, isn't this annoying? OH it so is.. And I love to bite her fingers HAHA I know this fucking silly, but I do love her fingers, small but chubby, it's really tasty. We'd hit quite well when we're playing some games either in my iTouch or her DS, we both would laugh and share some crazy opinions and argue a lil bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIY4HNYJyI/AAAAAAAAADo/0tGepSzuat8/s1600/tumblr_l2ysqkggsI1qc530oo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIY4HNYJyI/AAAAAAAAADo/0tGepSzuat8/s400/tumblr_l2ysqkggsI1qc530oo1_500.jpg" width="322" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt; BUT, if she's nicer and kind-er to me, I'd be really nice to her I SWEAR. I'd buy her stuff she likes everytime I go out. I'd help her dress every morning. I'd watch Barbie with her anytime she wants to. I really wish this could happen somehow, cause she's really adorable, but she's just too annoying and naughty to dote for. I hate her for being this way and this makes me think that I'm a bad sister. I enjoy fooling her either. Am I a bad sister? I guess not huh?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIaVCDMOfI/AAAAAAAAADs/5d_Jt8j9RCo/s1600/tumblr_kylx28QLz71qa1nfuo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIaVCDMOfI/AAAAAAAAADs/5d_Jt8j9RCo/s400/tumblr_kylx28QLz71qa1nfuo1_500.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Another confession, I really wanna hug her sometimes, especially when she cries, but I don't have the guts to do that. Well, at the very least I tried to calm her down. HAHA &lt;strike&gt;such a good sister me.&lt;/strike&gt; OH NO NO NO I wouldn't want my family to read this post, I'd be really embarrassed. I hope everything will turn out smoothly between us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-7179122514928592483?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/7179122514928592483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/she-is-as-beautiful-as-princess-she-is.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/7179122514928592483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/7179122514928592483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/she-is-as-beautiful-as-princess-she-is.html' title='She is as beautiful as a princess. She is smart.  She is the one who let&apos;s me down.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIV9HvARNI/AAAAAAAAADk/M7ybT9uqlI0/s72-c/tumblr_lcb2qrf7HW1qbmy3eo1_500-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-7667642959505130463</id><published>2010-12-10T03:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T03:40:23.119-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Too much to ask, too much to care, too much to ignore.</title><content type='html'>"You gotta give me some answers.." - Bella Swan, Twilight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIM3BhokzI/AAAAAAAAADY/9UO8_-rCY0o/s1600/tumblr_lb79kwxKVC1qdod69o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIM3BhokzI/AAAAAAAAADY/9UO8_-rCY0o/s400/tumblr_lb79kwxKVC1qdod69o1_500.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;How I wish my holidays aren't this boring. LOL &lt;strike&gt;this is bad&lt;/strike&gt;. I've been going to the same malls all over Batam with my dad, didn't seem to find anything interesting. Oh, I watched Narnia yesterday with dad, in 3D. It is sooo amazing! You guys should go watch though, it's really worth it. Anyways, since this is Skandar Keynes' last movie in Narnia, he's the Edmund guy. I personally love the whole idea of this movie, and watching them grow up, it's really amazing, bah! LOL I'm talking like a mother!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIOWoXy7FI/AAAAAAAAADc/sS4x3dA-8bY/s1600/tumblr_lanqdu7mgX1qdouuio1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIOWoXy7FI/AAAAAAAAADc/sS4x3dA-8bY/s400/tumblr_lanqdu7mgX1qdouuio1_400.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Anyways, I've been thinking a lot about family picnic, but i can't think where are we gonna have it. It's &lt;strike&gt;really complicated here.&lt;/strike&gt; I don't know. I wanna spend my time having fun with my family - whoo I'm such a family girl huh? - watching movies or dine outside but I wanna spend my time with my boyfriend too. OH NO, I'm rumbling and bubling and lalala-ing. Sorry readers, this is how I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIQsZ3lgQI/AAAAAAAAADg/7JKhzabvNEs/s1600/tumblr_lcj106YYJ21qe8wmxo1_500.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIQsZ3lgQI/AAAAAAAAADg/7JKhzabvNEs/s400/tumblr_lcj106YYJ21qe8wmxo1_500.png" width="400" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Anndd, I got it all planned out with my boyfriend, for tomorrow. We're going to hang in a mall, catch a movie - Narnia again i hope, have our lunch at Pizza Hut. I just wanna have fun tomorrow, since we've been arguing about some stupid problem.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;WHY ARE MY POST SO RANDOM?! &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-7667642959505130463?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/7667642959505130463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/too-much-to-ask-too-much-to-care-too.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/7667642959505130463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/7667642959505130463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/too-much-to-ask-too-much-to-care-too.html' title='Too much to ask, too much to care, too much to ignore.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TQIM3BhokzI/AAAAAAAAADY/9UO8_-rCY0o/s72-c/tumblr_lb79kwxKVC1qdod69o1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-1786625076631753325</id><published>2010-12-08T01:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T01:28:32.463-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Being insane and abnormal is not a sin, it's a creativity.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I don't care how gay he is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP9O3mR0fuI/AAAAAAAAADI/UrItAUOKrMI/s1600/the-female-form.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="443" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP9O3mR0fuI/AAAAAAAAADI/UrItAUOKrMI/s640/the-female-form.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I saw a picture of you &lt;br /&gt;Hanging in an empty hallway &lt;br /&gt;I heard a voice that I knew &lt;br /&gt;And I couldn't walk away &lt;br /&gt;It took me back to the end &lt;br /&gt;Of everything &lt;br /&gt;I tasted all  &lt;br /&gt;I tasted all the tears &lt;br /&gt;again &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside the rain's fallin' down &lt;br /&gt;There's not a drop that hits me &lt;br /&gt;Scream at the sky but no sound &lt;br /&gt;Is leavin' my lips &lt;br /&gt;It's like I can't even feel &lt;br /&gt;After the way you touched me &lt;br /&gt;I'm not asleep but I'm not awake &lt;br /&gt;After the way you loved me &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't turn this around &lt;br /&gt;I keep running into walls that I can't break down &lt;br /&gt;I said I just wander around &lt;br /&gt;With my eyes wide shut because of you &lt;br /&gt;I'm a sleepwalker walker walker &lt;br /&gt;I'm a sleepwalker walker walker &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me out of this dream &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP9PcAU1w0I/AAAAAAAAADM/D0jidmTcnWk/s1600/newewpic2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP9PcAU1w0I/AAAAAAAAADM/D0jidmTcnWk/s400/newewpic2.jpg" width="308" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Everywhere that I go &lt;br /&gt;I see another memory &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #888888; font-size: 0.75em;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And  all the places we used to know&lt;br /&gt;They're always there to haunt me &lt;br /&gt;I walk around and I feel so lost and lonely &lt;br /&gt;You're everything that I want &lt;br /&gt;But you don't want me &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't turn this around &lt;br /&gt;I keep running into walls that I can't break down &lt;br /&gt;I said I just wander around &lt;br /&gt;With my eyes wide shut because of you &lt;br /&gt;I'm a sleepwalker walker walker &lt;br /&gt;I'm a sleepwalker walker walker &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me out of this dream, dream &lt;br /&gt;Let me out of this dream &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't turn this around &lt;br /&gt;I keep running into walls that I can't break down &lt;br /&gt;I said I just wander around &lt;br /&gt;With my eyes wide shut because of you &lt;br /&gt;I'm a sleepwalker walker walker &lt;br /&gt;I'm a sleepwalker walker walker &lt;br /&gt;I'm a sleepwalker walker walker &lt;br /&gt;I'm a sleepwalker walker walker &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP9PjbC__YI/AAAAAAAAADQ/lBPtx3jhkG4/s1600/newpic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP9PjbC__YI/AAAAAAAAADQ/lBPtx3jhkG4/s400/newpic.jpg" width="328" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;Let me out of this dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-1786625076631753325?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/1786625076631753325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/being-insane-and-abnormal-is-not-sin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/1786625076631753325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/1786625076631753325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/being-insane-and-abnormal-is-not-sin.html' title='Being insane and abnormal is not a sin, it&apos;s a creativity.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP9O3mR0fuI/AAAAAAAAADI/UrItAUOKrMI/s72-c/the-female-form.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-4059826339138670720</id><published>2010-12-08T00:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T00:33:07.207-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm never perfect and I don't wanna be perfect.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"&gt;Hello again strangers, it's good to be blogging again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP86sKDPthI/AAAAAAAAACo/8ipluFQrO68/s1600/dieselintimatefall20103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP86sKDPthI/AAAAAAAAACo/8ipluFQrO68/s640/dieselintimatefall20103.jpg" width="483" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Diesel underwear adds, super cute!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I am so freakingly sorry for not being to update my blog in such a long time. As y'all know, I'm having a first term exam and it quite kept me busy reading and studying my books, so I don't have this much time to blog. No, exams aren't done yet, till tomorrow! Tomorrow's the last day of exam and school will resume at 6th January, &lt;strike&gt;can't wait&lt;/strike&gt;. Now I'm fucking bubling about everything, ya can't tell how excited I am for the holidays. But I'm pretty sure that my holiday's gonna suck, boring and dead, at least I don't have to wake up at 6.30 in the morning. So, where and how you guys gonna spend your holiday? I bet it's gonna be fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP895Gpb_yI/AAAAAAAAACs/_Q01tCdT5Kk/s1600/dieselintimatefall20104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP895Gpb_yI/AAAAAAAAACs/_Q01tCdT5Kk/s640/dieselintimatefall20104.jpg" width="484" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I think I screwed my papers! I didn't study much, I spend my time shitting around tweeting when I'm not supposed to! I just don't understand why did my tweeting mood came back when I should be in my desk memorizing shits. Well, everything depends on the guard - guard, because he/she watches us during the exam - y'all know why, screw you if you don't! And of course there are some teachers who i would like kill, cause they won't even let us blink our eyes! Well, not really like that, but it's somehow like that. Now I'm bubling again. Grr!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Anyways, it's really fun to work together and break some rules, who wouldn't do that? Even Hermione said "it's fun right, breaking rules".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-4059826339138670720?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/4059826339138670720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/im-never-perfect-and-i-dont-wanna-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/4059826339138670720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/4059826339138670720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/12/im-never-perfect-and-i-dont-wanna-be.html' title='I&apos;m never perfect and I don&apos;t wanna be perfect.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TP86sKDPthI/AAAAAAAAACo/8ipluFQrO68/s72-c/dieselintimatefall20103.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-2283486794052141297</id><published>2010-11-15T06:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T06:03:43.003-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life could be so much easier when we do what we wanna do.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TOE89xcoddI/AAAAAAAAACg/thOJWpmHP6o/s1600/tim-burton-fashion-1009-02-de.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TOE89xcoddI/AAAAAAAAACg/thOJWpmHP6o/s400/tim-burton-fashion-1009-02-de.jpg" width="312" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;What was left when that fire was gone? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I thought it felt right but that right was wrong &lt;br /&gt;All caught up in the eye of the storm &lt;br /&gt;And trying to figure out what it's like moving on &lt;br /&gt;And i don't even know what kind of things I've said &lt;br /&gt;My mouth kept moving and my mind went dead &lt;br /&gt;So, picking up the pieces, now where to begin? &lt;br /&gt;The hardest part of ending Is starting again.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TOE9lKRs1II/AAAAAAAAACk/MHXYo1dFn5U/s1600/tim-burton-fashion-1009-09-de.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TOE9lKRs1II/AAAAAAAAACk/MHXYo1dFn5U/s400/tim-burton-fashion-1009-09-de.jpg" width="312" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-2283486794052141297?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/2283486794052141297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/11/life-could-be-so-much-easier-when-we-do.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/2283486794052141297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/2283486794052141297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/11/life-could-be-so-much-easier-when-we-do.html' title='Life could be so much easier when we do what we wanna do.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TOE89xcoddI/AAAAAAAAACg/thOJWpmHP6o/s72-c/tim-burton-fashion-1009-02-de.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-7756251383920166963</id><published>2010-11-15T05:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T05:52:56.141-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not gay, if you don't believe me you may ask my girlfriend, she's right outside.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TOE5EDpOtfI/AAAAAAAAACc/04zyX4FK2sM/s1600/Haute_Fashion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TOE5EDpOtfI/AAAAAAAAACc/04zyX4FK2sM/s640/Haute_Fashion.jpg" width="456" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;Real tiring Monday. Just finished my art tuition a while ago and it went well as usual, but I got sleepy towards the end. Guess I'm bored with the details and colors, I wish I could do something different though.&lt;br /&gt;I'm really tired and I wanna go bed, then never wake up again. Uhh, this is &lt;strike&gt;rest in peace&lt;/strike&gt;. Anyways, I just wanted to keep my blog updated, peace and love guys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-7756251383920166963?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/7756251383920166963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/11/im-not-gay-if-you-dont-believe-me-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/7756251383920166963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/7756251383920166963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/11/im-not-gay-if-you-dont-believe-me-you.html' title='I&apos;m not gay, if you don&apos;t believe me you may ask my girlfriend, she&apos;s right outside.'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TOE5EDpOtfI/AAAAAAAAACc/04zyX4FK2sM/s72-c/Haute_Fashion.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-6150428163340129327</id><published>2010-11-14T03:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-14T03:11:56.502-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When Freedom is Prison</title><content type='html'>I don't have the fucking freedom to post and write whatever I want to, cause someone's afraid that i might become bad.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have the fucking freedom to make friends, cause someone's afraid that I might end up lost with them.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have the fucking freedom to go to a party - a birthday party in fact - and I've got a fucking curfew! Cause someone's worried that himself wouldn't feel good if I go home at 10pm.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have the fucking freedom to do what I wanna do, cause someone thinks I might do something bad or make him upset.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have the fucking freedom to express myself, cause someone thinks it's bad.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have the fucking freedom to wear what I wanna wear, cause someone thinks my outfit is too open - for Christ sake please, I know it myself which is short which is not.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have the fucking freedom to be free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I am fucking controlled by my closest human being around me. I don't wanna waste my 16 for those unimportant, unreasonable NO FREEDOM shits! Why? *sob* but this is not entirely his fault, I should blame myself for not being mean and selfish enough to pursue my dreams and freedom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-6150428163340129327?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/6150428163340129327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/11/when-freedom-is-prison.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/6150428163340129327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/6150428163340129327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/11/when-freedom-is-prison.html' title='When Freedom is Prison'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-1440185081975614012</id><published>2010-11-14T02:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-14T02:23:25.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Daddy's Got His Jean Paul Gaultier Parfum All Over The House</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN-w5VPP9UI/AAAAAAAAAB4/tBnRqoTdD1k/s1600/acdb79cce9b0ce92_vogue_italia_5.preview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="427" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN-w5VPP9UI/AAAAAAAAAB4/tBnRqoTdD1k/s640/acdb79cce9b0ce92_vogue_italia_5.preview.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Parents are always the major problem for all of us teenagers, why? Because they don't understand us that is. Yes, I have younger sister who's kinda &lt;strike&gt;bitchy&lt;/strike&gt; to me, blame on her brilliant brain! She's really smart, knows what to say or do, now this is fucking unfair. Unfair because I lose on every arguments, even with my parents. But now, everything will change. I tried to answer back every time when they're wronging me or in every arguments. I don't know, I think I should stood up, and stop myself from being a coward - not coward actually - or stupid. I should try to say something that would make them think I'm not afraid of you mom and dad, and so I did. I started answering them back. This is something good, but i have to do this, I'm not a 6 years old girl who puts on innocent face and being wronged by them, I'm sick and tired of being obedient all the time, I shall now stand on my own.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN-0BpzOt5I/AAAAAAAAAB8/yJcDgqNb-kE/s1600/e0b62b4e9fbb0904_vogue_italia_4.preview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="466" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN-0BpzOt5I/AAAAAAAAAB8/yJcDgqNb-kE/s640/e0b62b4e9fbb0904_vogue_italia_4.preview.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;All right, I think I should stop whining about my parents, since I don't really care that much. So, daddy smells so good with his Jean Paul Gaultier, I don't know which collection it is in, but it smells really great. I really do hope I live in the US, just because there's 4 seasons there and you don't wear uniforms to school. That is the greatest thing for the kids who lives in Indonesia, I guess. I wanna wear Dolce &amp;amp; Gabbana's scarf, Burberry Prorsum's black leather coat, Dries Van Noten's dress, Dior high heel boots, and a Chanel purse. This is what I call heaven! And I'm going to pursue this very dream of mine, hopefully I could be a successful business woman in the future.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Stop stop stop, I'm really thinking so far, from parents to fashion attire to successful business woman. Really, I am dreaming HUGE.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN-3Kfiv79I/AAAAAAAAACA/xnu7JlTFiPs/s1600/699a5db7cbd09501_vogue_italia_7.preview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN-3Kfiv79I/AAAAAAAAACA/xnu7JlTFiPs/s640/699a5db7cbd09501_vogue_italia_7.preview.jpg" width="474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;First Semester exam is coming soon, just a couple of weeks away. And I haven't really studied THAT much, and I'm still here, shitting around like a mother fucker. History paper is held on this Thursday, that's just too fast is it? Well, my History teacher will be going home to her hometown, she's gonna get married soon. I wish her good luck and happy wedding!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-1440185081975614012?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/1440185081975614012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/11/daddys-got-his-jean-paul-gaultier.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/1440185081975614012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/1440185081975614012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/11/daddys-got-his-jean-paul-gaultier.html' title='Daddy&apos;s Got His Jean Paul Gaultier Parfum All Over The House'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN-w5VPP9UI/AAAAAAAAAB4/tBnRqoTdD1k/s72-c/acdb79cce9b0ce92_vogue_italia_5.preview.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8775945997116294442.post-6071286011407784722</id><published>2010-11-13T18:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-14T02:28:10.747-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Start of a New Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9MfzQtAYI/AAAAAAAAABk/B4EQPHkuqtA/s1600/vogue1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="290" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9MfzQtAYI/AAAAAAAAABk/B4EQPHkuqtA/s400/vogue1.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;How many times will I have to do this? Keep questioning myself why and that's way too stupid cause I had like 5 or 6 unactive blogs. And now I'm starting &lt;strike&gt;anothe&lt;/strike&gt;r blog. Hopefully this blog goes well as planned and updated - that's like the most important thing - and I want this blog to be entirely myself, get what that means? Well, incase if you don't, I have the freedom and I have the rights to write and post whatever I want, I don't need your permission do I?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times;"&gt;Well the I guess this is it. The first post, and it's done. LOL what am I doing? Anyways, there'll be updates - &lt;strike&gt;crossing my fingers&lt;/strike&gt; - yes, imma update soon. Oh and the best part! I'm going to post some interesting pictures, I don't what, boobies I guess?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8775945997116294442-6071286011407784722?l=dancingdead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/feeds/6071286011407784722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/11/another-start-of-new-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/6071286011407784722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8775945997116294442/posts/default/6071286011407784722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingdead.blogspot.com/2010/11/another-start-of-new-blog.html' title='Another Start of a New Blog'/><author><name>Nicole Lorenza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00446604435601809296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9Gr4GM__I/AAAAAAAAABE/1_vCxAdIpu8/S220/40124_1573431389185_1637555429_1356572_5227401_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4ym4ALx3t3E/TN9MfzQtAYI/AAAAAAAAABk/B4EQPHkuqtA/s72-c/vogue1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
