<?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-484396551693916767</id><updated>2011-08-01T06:31:38.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Need To Talk.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harlequinchick7.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/484396551693916767/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harlequinchick7.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>harlequinchick7</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05870755801370260337</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/-7s0q9Yfh9G0/ThdaUapS0GI/AAAAAAAAAfk/icWZqLGam_o/s220/Picture0008.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-484396551693916767.post-5438568826005834189</id><published>2011-07-11T04:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T05:24:52.759-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Productive, yet unsatisfactory.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Brandon Boyd - A Night Without Cars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indeed. Finished a term paper, placed some calls, had a solid practise session, rehearsed for presentation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have to study for a quiz an print out two term papers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Piece of cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently pissed off at everyone who is politically involved. Ever since the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;Bersih&lt;/span&gt; rally, I've read too many stories of people not happy with everything under the sun. Overnight, we've all turned into a bunch of cynical jaded bitter sarcastic dissatisfied citizens of Malaysia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. Let me see this from the protesters point of view :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The authorities arrested people who were planning to practise their free speech.&lt;/span&gt; I say 'planning' because they arrested them BEFORE any shit went down. They weren't guilty of anything yet, except probably for wearing yellow t-shirts. This is the first time ever I've heard the government be proactive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The police first said they didn't receive any permit application for a rally. &lt;/span&gt;Then they said it's approved to be done at a stadium. Then they revoked the permit. THEN they gave it back. On Saturday they tried to block everyone from reaching the stadium. +10 for being proactive, -15 for an intense case of indecisiveness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Police brutality was apparently rampant.&lt;/span&gt; The policemen were also rude, rough, and unjust. In Malay, I guess the proper word is 'biadap'. Or 'perangai macam babi'. Whichever is fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Can't think of anything else actually. Mmmm. Brownies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right. Now, from the bad guy's side :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The rally is going to disturb the peace and could be violent etc.&lt;/span&gt; Pretty true actually, I mean, not all 10000 (5000 if you're the Malaysian government and 25000 if you're CNN) protesters are good-spirited, kind, honest people, I'm sure. Plus, they pretty much ruined some Malaysians' much-awaited weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; They do not have a permit....&lt;/span&gt;. Well. They did. Or not. No one really knows, actually. Why is the voice in my head reading all this with a British accent?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's a political cover by the oppositions to incite violence and blablabla...&lt;/span&gt; I don't think all the guys who protested wanted the PR to be in power or something. They just didn't want any corrupted bullshit to happen during elections. Well, some of them wanted that. A lot of others were just there for fun. And to update their FB statuses/Twitter. However, I think maybe there was a hint of political motive there. I mean, anything to undermine the government, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The cops were just doing their jobs&lt;/span&gt;. True, I guess. I mean, they were pissy cause you kinda spoiled their Saturday too. They were brutal, I guess, because they're men who believe that violence is always the answer. If you let policewomen join the front line, everyone will just be nagged to death. The protesters will run, I tell you, RUN at the sound of a woman's high-pitched scoldings. OR if they get beaten up they'll never make noise because a) You never hit a woman and b) You'll lose your man-card if you admit a woman beat the crap out of you. Guess the cops never thought of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I don't like it either way because&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) The government isn't really doing a good job at the moment&lt;br /&gt;b) The citizens are a little bit too dissatisfied&lt;br /&gt;c) Unstable government + unhappy citizens = Chaos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I shall stop thinking about this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cliched rhetorical question : Why can't we all just get along?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;x&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/484396551693916767-5438568826005834189?l=harlequinchick7.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harlequinchick7.blogspot.com/feeds/5438568826005834189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://harlequinchick7.blogspot.com/2011/07/productive-yet-unsatisfactory.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/484396551693916767/posts/default/5438568826005834189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/484396551693916767/posts/default/5438568826005834189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harlequinchick7.blogspot.com/2011/07/productive-yet-unsatisfactory.html' title='Productive, yet unsatisfactory.'/><author><name>harlequinchick7</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05870755801370260337</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/-7s0q9Yfh9G0/ThdaUapS0GI/AAAAAAAAAfk/icWZqLGam_o/s220/Picture0008.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-484396551693916767.post-1963491660468234683</id><published>2011-07-08T11:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T12:27:17.007-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nostalgia and Clarity.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Nostalgia hit me big time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on Youtube looking back at the old videos I loved, and there were the usual Jason Mraz, Panic! At The Disco, Il Divo songs from my young teen days, but a couple of them really hit me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Always Love by Nada Surf. The song of my teen years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/22HFxS7dGX0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="425"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Paper Shoes by Incubus. I can't believe I loved them from 4 years ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/9VnMZobIAwg" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="425"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;The best two videos were from MSSM 2008 in Kuching, Sarawak with the best bunch of friends I've been blessed to have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/02wnElm-ZDk" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="425"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/E6FbXIr7VMs" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="425"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Watching those videos, after 3 years still made me laugh.. and almost cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I had a knot in my chest from watching it. I couldn't believe how far we've come.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We've all grown up so much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Some of us aren't on talking terms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Some of us see each other once a year, whereas we used to play at least 5 tournaments a year together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Some of us have changed so much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Amanda&lt;/span&gt;, who is the smartest girl among our group, is now on her way to an Ivy League school on a full scholarship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Joanna&lt;/span&gt; is studying in Australia, probably going to graduate soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sharon&lt;/span&gt; is a rising sophomore in US.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Abhi&lt;/span&gt; is studying law in New Zealand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;? I'm headed Sharon's way soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;It really just hit me that those two weeks in Kuching can never be recreated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Living in the past is no good, but to be able to remember it is beautiful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We aren't the same people we were 3 years ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We matured. We faced the typical teenage problems. We grew apart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We have different views, different opinions, different beliefs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We grew to become individuals in our own right, with our own identity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We have different responsibilities.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We have a different set of friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We have a different life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Yet, looking back, I wish I could relive those moments. If not for the photos and videos, I think none of us would remember what exactly we did, said, and went through. For that, I thank you Jo. It upsets me that those moments can never happen, ever again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I guess we still do have a friendship, a bond, but on Facebook? That doesn't count. That's the most communication I have with them nowadays. I was so excited to meet Amanda last week, but it didn't happen. I vow to see her again, even if I have to go all the way up north. It's not considered holding on to the past, it's a continuation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I remember Sharon and her well.. eccentric dressing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Amanda's turtle face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Jo's songs.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; "Called her on the phone and she touched herself.."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Our IC photos, Abhi and I.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Scoops.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The time Sharon, Amanda and I were in Melaka for training, and Bali for ASEAN School.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The training camps under MALGA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Walking to Times Square.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;That was so long ago. Wow. All of us have been so busy moving forward with our lives, looking to the future, that we rarely stop to think of the things we did in the past. The good things. Somehow I don't remember the bad memories. Maybe they weren't even there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I guess I need these people from the past to bring with me into the future&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Today's song? Rope by Foo Fighters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/484396551693916767-1963491660468234683?l=harlequinchick7.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harlequinchick7.blogspot.com/feeds/1963491660468234683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://harlequinchick7.blogspot.com/2011/07/nostalgia-hits.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/484396551693916767/posts/default/1963491660468234683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/484396551693916767/posts/default/1963491660468234683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harlequinchick7.blogspot.com/2011/07/nostalgia-hits.html' title='Nostalgia and Clarity.'/><author><name>harlequinchick7</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05870755801370260337</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/-7s0q9Yfh9G0/ThdaUapS0GI/AAAAAAAAAfk/icWZqLGam_o/s220/Picture0008.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/22HFxS7dGX0/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
