<?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-5529734083190440367</id><updated>2011-07-31T11:00:21.424+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pale Into Insignificance</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-2207789342583722149</id><published>2010-05-26T00:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T00:48:10.613+08:00</updated><title type='text'>of towering heights</title><content type='html'>I'm condescending by nature,&lt;br /&gt;I destroy any bits of hope that may shine through my tattered mind,&lt;br /&gt;I judge - far more often than I should and they sway me more then anything would.&lt;br /&gt;I dismantle everything and see it by logic,&lt;br /&gt;I'm too curious for my own good,&lt;br /&gt;I question everything all the time,&lt;br /&gt;I'm constricting myself,&lt;br /&gt;I have to hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to be strong,&lt;br /&gt;I have to be supportive,&lt;br /&gt;I have to keep my thoughts to myself,&lt;br /&gt;I have to smile in front of you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-2207789342583722149?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/2207789342583722149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=2207789342583722149' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/2207789342583722149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/2207789342583722149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2010/05/of-towering-heights.html' title='of towering heights'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-2187700687153564416</id><published>2010-01-03T01:16:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T01:23:19.518+08:00</updated><title type='text'>candid</title><content type='html'>time may be moving on but i'm not.&lt;br /&gt;living in the shadow of what billions sought.&lt;br /&gt;i'm already scarred by you, yes you.&lt;br /&gt;buried and i still don't have a clue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i miss you a lot. &lt;br /&gt;if i was just a one time thing, let me know. &lt;br /&gt;put me out of my misery. &lt;br /&gt;you are the one, &lt;br /&gt;always was, &lt;br /&gt;always will be. &lt;br /&gt;but that doesn't mean we can be together. &lt;br /&gt;just wishing for it will not make it happen. &lt;br /&gt;i just pray i still have time.&lt;br /&gt;Mercy Killing please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-2187700687153564416?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/2187700687153564416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=2187700687153564416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/2187700687153564416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/2187700687153564416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2010/01/candid.html' title='candid'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-5009722901828659809</id><published>2009-10-23T00:33:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T01:30:07.582+08:00</updated><title type='text'>nutrition</title><content type='html'>I try to pen beautiful pieces,&lt;br /&gt;Express myself through these tattered pages.&lt;br /&gt;Between lines of fiction and ruses,&lt;br /&gt;Truth tied only to your flawless features.&lt;br /&gt;Amongst the vastness of god's creations,&lt;br /&gt;You must be his prized possession.&lt;br /&gt;I've been down on bended knee,&lt;br /&gt;Waiting to be knighted with your feathered kiss.&lt;br /&gt;On my path long have i treaded,&lt;br /&gt;O so far i don't regret it. &lt;br /&gt;Yes tis true i am not gifted,&lt;br /&gt;Lock me up if your heart allows it.&lt;br /&gt;Dreaming of saving you is foolish,&lt;br /&gt;Alas, i am but only a humble peasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without you, i'm won't be dead. But i wouldn't be living.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-5009722901828659809?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/5009722901828659809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=5009722901828659809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5009722901828659809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5009722901828659809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/10/nutrition.html' title='nutrition'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-400440908633866747</id><published>2009-09-22T21:58:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T23:07:22.340+08:00</updated><title type='text'>ferris wheel</title><content type='html'>it wasn't easy.&lt;br /&gt;to smile when everything was falling apart.&lt;br /&gt;to cover up the truth in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;to trail past you without breaking peace.&lt;br /&gt;to reach the opposite side of your darkened street.&lt;br /&gt;with people telling me we were never gonna be.&lt;br /&gt;with dozen others at my feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was easy,&lt;br /&gt;for me to be captured by your eyes again.&lt;br /&gt;to know falling for you wasn't just a trend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the wait was worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-400440908633866747?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/400440908633866747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=400440908633866747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/400440908633866747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/400440908633866747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/09/ferris-wheel.html' title='ferris wheel'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-5148957833723922994</id><published>2009-08-19T21:51:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T22:26:20.234+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the one in the closet.</title><content type='html'>Morality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If god existed,&lt;br /&gt;would we have lived our lives any different?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the Earth was indeed flat,&lt;br /&gt;could it alter what we believed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the concept of distance wasn't thought of,&lt;br /&gt;we wouldn't have to hide behind numbers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If time stood still,&lt;br /&gt;nothing would be important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If love was absolute,&lt;br /&gt;we would be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-5148957833723922994?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/5148957833723922994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=5148957833723922994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5148957833723922994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5148957833723922994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/08/one-in-closet.html' title='the one in the closet.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-8835032801569499850</id><published>2009-07-18T22:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T22:33:50.262+08:00</updated><title type='text'>say my name</title><content type='html'>Crawl,&lt;br /&gt;your first attempts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stagger,&lt;br /&gt;it's working - keep on going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walk,&lt;br /&gt;it's getting easier now, im one of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Run,&lt;br /&gt;the wind, the freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walk,&lt;br /&gt;the glory is fading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stagger,&lt;br /&gt;crippled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crawl,&lt;br /&gt;everything becomes pointless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-8835032801569499850?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/8835032801569499850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=8835032801569499850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/8835032801569499850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/8835032801569499850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/07/say-my-name.html' title='say my name'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-539178281481046477</id><published>2009-05-25T01:04:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T01:15:22.912+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drowned Eternal.</title><content type='html'>Been a while since i last posted anything. Been pretty busy and just plain lazy. I've been thinking non-stop about the past/present at best. This song sums up everything that's been happening for over half a year now. It's beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Fray - Be The One&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're two lovers in the night&lt;br /&gt;Waiting on the sun to rise&lt;br /&gt;Passing ships into the night&lt;br /&gt;Under different skies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you just whisper what you said&lt;br /&gt;One last time&lt;br /&gt;I could have sworn I heard you say&lt;br /&gt;That you are mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faded flowers in your hand&lt;br /&gt;The best that I could do&lt;br /&gt;It's the only way i've had&lt;br /&gt;Of reaching you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never saw it like you did&lt;br /&gt;Didn't know that it was there&lt;br /&gt;You don't see it in your hand&lt;br /&gt;Until the end&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be the one and only, wait for me&lt;br /&gt;Will you be the only one&lt;br /&gt;Will you be, be the one and only&lt;br /&gt;Wait for me, will you be the only one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if I knew how to yell&lt;br /&gt;What would I pray&lt;br /&gt;What if I knew how to tell&lt;br /&gt;What would I say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be the only one&lt;br /&gt;If you say you'll never go&lt;br /&gt;I'll be screaming out your name&lt;br /&gt;From the back of ohhhh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be the one and only, wait for me&lt;br /&gt;Will you be the only one&lt;br /&gt;Will you be, be the one and only&lt;br /&gt;Wait for me; let me be your only one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be the one, be the one and only&lt;br /&gt;Wait for me; let me be your only one&lt;br /&gt;Will you be, be the one and only&lt;br /&gt;Wait for me; let me be your only one&lt;br /&gt;____________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel as though i am Ophelia, reaching out to Hamlet who feigns insanity, destined to drown in this madness of love. I still mean what i said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-539178281481046477?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/539178281481046477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=539178281481046477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/539178281481046477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/539178281481046477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/05/drowned-eternal.html' title='Drowned Eternal.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-5791602323020311557</id><published>2009-04-20T21:20:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T22:30:11.896+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Impetus.</title><content type='html'>Huzzah! English assignment done. Let's all have a read at my literal disaster :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://th09.deviantart.com/fs20/300W/f/2007/228/3/8/_____Divine_Intervention_by_mihai.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether or not God exists is irrelevant because of free will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Free will trumps God and what he represents every time. Period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                           The irrelevancy of God, or religion for that matter, is in fact, a concept that many people fail to see or grasp because they cannot realize that once one can control his or her own state of mind, and therefore having full control of what to and not to believe in; the subject of the existence of a higher being will fail to/cease to make any logical sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Who is God? Or better still, what is the concept of God?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God&lt;br /&gt;-noun&lt;br /&gt;1. the one Supreme Being, the creator and ruler of the universe.&lt;br /&gt;(Definition retrieved on 20th April 2009 from http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/god?qsrc=2888)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Here we have an invisible supreme being that is feared by people who are sold to the concept of religion. The basic idea: “Everything that happens is God’s will and his will is what’s best for you”. People have been shaping their actions to fit the commandments and will of this great thingamajig above. Laws have been formed, cultures have been defined and the body count to uphold God’s will is pretty high too. Of course the word God does not only refer to the one from the Bible, we have the ones referred to from the Al-Quran, Buddhist scriptures and a lot of other religions and beliefs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Every single person’s existence has already been predestined, or if you like to be a little more modern, preprogrammed in accordance to God’s Divine Plan. Meaning that who and what you are is because of God. That’s right, you reading this is also part of God’s will. Your friend who drowned last week is also God’s will. And yes, sadly, Mr. Bigglesworth getting run over by that car yesterday is also the handy work of God. Well, that is only if you believe in such ridiculous nonsense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Do not fret! People are slowly learning to form opinions for themselves and question absurd believes. For the good people of reality, free will should be no stranger to you. In this era, information and the media has made people more aware of their surroundings and each person feel that he/she is in control of their own life and that they have… in a way, reached an age of reason where they can perceive and analyze things the way they see it instead of being told how to by the holy one. This nifty ability is called free will for those who do not know.&lt;br /&gt;Learn’d scholars have been arguing for centuries on the existence of God. As according to the topic, whether or not God exists or not does not matter at all. Free will is the bane of religion. To make things clearer, an example should be used to illustrate this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example A&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;            We have 10 people who have been raised to believe in God. 10 very holy people who believe that everything is predestined and everything happens because of God’s will. One day, some random disgruntled redneck comes along and decides to kill everybody in this house of worship. He slays each and every single one of them in the most gruesome way possible or he could kill them with excessive sneezing for all that matters (it’s a matter of personal preference really). Point is, all 10 of them die. So, is this the will of god? That 10 staunch followers are killed or is it an act of free will by the disgruntled man? Logic would point more towards the man being a killer. The fun part is, if god exists, he goes to hell! If not, he just dies and goes back to the earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Thus, the existence of God really is pointless because free will is what every person possesses and that it is up to the individual on how they use their will. Be it manipulating another individual or individuals to do nasty things like mass suicides or something nicer like “thou shalt not kill” which leads right back to the fundamentals or religion of doing good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-5791602323020311557?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/5791602323020311557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=5791602323020311557' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5791602323020311557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5791602323020311557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/04/impetus.html' title='Impetus.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-6341890974259513752</id><published>2009-04-19T23:11:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T16:47:27.536+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Break out the red bull, it's time to rock mario, old school.</title><content type='html'>*note to self*&lt;br /&gt;edit later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-6341890974259513752?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/6341890974259513752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=6341890974259513752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/6341890974259513752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/6341890974259513752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/04/break-out-red-bull-its-time-to-rock.html' title='Break out the red bull, it&apos;s time to rock mario, old school.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-5892060886832874064</id><published>2009-03-31T00:06:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T00:20:21.012+08:00</updated><title type='text'>C'est La Vie</title><content type='html'>I'm duped;guilty am i&lt;br /&gt;I'm failing;impotency prevails&lt;br /&gt;I'm losing;caring's my bane&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying;helpless against her&lt;br /&gt;I'm suffering;to not impose&lt;br /&gt;I'm alive;she shunned away&lt;br /&gt;I'm dead;the reaper's embrace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-5892060886832874064?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/5892060886832874064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=5892060886832874064' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5892060886832874064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5892060886832874064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/03/cest-la-vie.html' title='C&apos;est La Vie'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-2289955836399356119</id><published>2009-03-28T00:51:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T01:23:33.273+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Insatiable.</title><content type='html'>E-A-R-T-H. our home! Everyone's gonna do their part for earth hour~ but it's so ironic. Turn off the lights but light candles. LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's imagine earth hour was forced. Meaning the government turned off all power generating sources and we'll be living like primitive people. No phones, no internet, no lights and the like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Experiment 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Forced Earth Hour - Cutting off electricity for an hour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Results. Wouldn't be very interesting or beneficial to the earth in any sense and people would just go on living their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Experiment 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earth Day - Cutting off electricity for a day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Results. People would get fucking pissed and thought it was some bad joke and treat it like nothing happened the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Experiment 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earth Week - Cutting off electricity for a week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Results. People get very annoyed and start walking the streets because there isnt anything else to fucking do. When power resumes they would definitely appreciate electricity more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The results are short but i'm too lazy to type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW, lets go out on a limb here and say that fossil fuels have already run out. So, no electricity around the globe. Banks open up because the security system fails. People, now deranged and absolutely bonkers run around the streets filled with dead cars and just go for the money which MIGHT be of use if they haven't embraced their primal nature yet. If they do, they'll be thinking about survival. Killing people just to get to the last banana (imagine the horror). They form small groups, burning wood for fire and warmth. Talking becomes obsolete because it drains energy. People revert to spastic blinks and grunts. These different groups slowly evolve to have similar traits, bigger hands, stronger bodies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention before this, the maximum security prisons and loony bins opening up and releasing those fiends into society once again (stolen from George Carlin). Then let's see where humanity has gone to now. When all the cattle and sheep and sources of food are depleted, cannibalism starts. oh.. your parents look pretty delicious now don't they? The whole world reverts back to the stone age and we start all over again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly discovering, slowly evolving again. Inventing, building, burning, cutting. Alas some nitwit found a new source of energy. Oh no no, it's not the green type it's one that requires the burning of water (Water can be burned. It's proven) and the whole fucking cycle starts again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We really need to learn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-2289955836399356119?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/2289955836399356119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=2289955836399356119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/2289955836399356119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/2289955836399356119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/03/insatiable.html' title='Insatiable.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-8394896515482691328</id><published>2009-03-24T21:38:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T21:52:46.552+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall On Me</title><content type='html'>Can i stop by to annoy you?&lt;br /&gt;Pry open your brain and pick at it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can i look into your eyes and dream,&lt;br /&gt;tell you that nobody comes close?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can i trip over your lies&lt;br /&gt;And pick myself up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can i tell everyone that you take my breath away,&lt;br /&gt;Never caring for what they say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can i come up and kiss you,&lt;br /&gt;would you disintegrate my pride?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can i listen to you breath,&lt;br /&gt;And try to work out what life means?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can i?&lt;br /&gt;Can i?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-8394896515482691328?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/8394896515482691328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=8394896515482691328' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/8394896515482691328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/8394896515482691328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/03/fall-on-me.html' title='Fall On Me'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-944203491395251297</id><published>2009-03-09T15:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T15:17:05.057+08:00</updated><title type='text'>When The Fat Lady Sings</title><content type='html'>Tonnes of shit have been happening in my life this past week. Haven't been texting her because i dont want to distract her from uni and stuff. If i'm going to be here, might as well not distract her. But i'm afraid she'll forget about me and that i'm here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reminiscing the days where i sang her to sleep :3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-944203491395251297?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/944203491395251297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=944203491395251297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/944203491395251297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/944203491395251297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/03/when-fat-lady-sings.html' title='When The Fat Lady Sings'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-42944144554946296</id><published>2009-02-23T13:58:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T14:33:59.894+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Abbreviation.</title><content type='html'>Discussion in English class today was rather intriguing. Discussed about the story "The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas". The group did a pretty good job on the story and pointed out the pretty obvious themes but when they tried to give examples and applied it - someone say EPIC PHAIL. Funny thing was they contradicted themselves with the examples and the themes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presentation wise, ideas were brought across quite clearly. the rest, well... let's say maka is not funny. period. OH and no one gives a shit when you say hi or not, really. Time to get over yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to story, given that the argument &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;was that the ones who walked away from Omelas were those who did not want to be part of the atrocities done in order for them to have prosperity. They were those that tossed it aside whilst those who stayed were able to ignore the fact of the ill-treated child and live with guilt in their minds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;point 1&lt;/span&gt;, the people who walked away were merely turning a blind eye and being ignorant with the fact that they &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;knew&lt;/span&gt; but didnt want anything to do with it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;point 2&lt;/span&gt;,the ones who stayed = heartless whores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They did point out that as a reference to people in society and that the ones who stayed were the westernized businessmen who enjoy their wealth while being ignorant to the suffering of the others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the question was posed to us - "how we live our lives with the comforts knowing of the abuse of human rights, be it adults or children?" Everyone was saying they wouldn't use the items and boycott it to free themselves of the guilt. BULLSHIT. Like any of them can live without the comforts they think they deserve. They were being contradictory to themselves yet they had the cheek to make themselves seem righteous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maka even told us not to ask him as it was complicating for his moral values. Rightttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt. As if his oversized arse didnt use any items that have shady backgrounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pitcher plant was actually there talking about that point and trying to get the point across to others and let them reflect on it and the rest of the class were still going 'WHUT?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, moving on. Looking into human nature and naturally, values. Human values for my English assignment. The only point that i have managed to squeeze out is appreciation. Well, it's not exactly a value but it is a point to ponder. To stop for 5 minutes in our "hectic" schedules which is just binding us in the rat race and that job they have is just another name for being someone's bitch, and take a step back and just be happy and grateful with what we have - after all, it might not be there in a day, or even a minute later. That would surely make life seem more appealing and worth living for won't you say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to go, life beckons.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-42944144554946296?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/42944144554946296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=42944144554946296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/42944144554946296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/42944144554946296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/02/abbreviation.html' title='Abbreviation.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-6560660968733056390</id><published>2009-02-23T00:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T00:48:16.475+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love The Way She Closes One Eye When She's Eating.</title><content type='html'>missing her like crazy everyday. havent spoken to her in what seems to be a trillion years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to talk to her on msn, tag her on facebook, text her maxis number but i CANT. i dont want to fuck up what microscopic chance i have of the slightest affection i can get for her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to have a nice chat with her, just talk. but on one hand she might not appreciate it and i want to give her her space. argh what's going through her mind. i sure hope she reads this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-6560660968733056390?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/6560660968733056390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=6560660968733056390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/6560660968733056390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/6560660968733056390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-love-way-she-closes-one-eye-when-shes.html' title='I Love The Way She Closes One Eye When She&apos;s Eating.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-3806140717090770482</id><published>2009-02-21T02:52:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T03:06:24.774+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Mice And Men.</title><content type='html'>Come home baby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tear this wall between us down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me hear your laughter once more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't leave me out here alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been waiting for so long now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                    what went wrong?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-3806140717090770482?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/3806140717090770482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=3806140717090770482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/3806140717090770482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/3806140717090770482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/02/of-mice-and-men.html' title='Of Mice And Men.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-4002065375866506805</id><published>2009-02-19T01:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T01:18:23.084+08:00</updated><title type='text'>All We Are.</title><content type='html'>I'm Broken, I'm Lost, I'm Dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;Havent had contact with her for so long. dont think i've ever missed anyone or anything so much. everything i do somehow reflects her and the times we shared.&lt;br /&gt;I'm still wondering what went wrong. She said;take it slow and we'll be okay. yet something doesnt feel right. I'll have to continue acting like i don't want to know. &lt;/3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                   It's not over right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-4002065375866506805?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/4002065375866506805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=4002065375866506805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/4002065375866506805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/4002065375866506805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/02/all-we-are.html' title='All We Are.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-3988414469384847734</id><published>2009-02-13T00:14:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T00:41:16.409+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Romeo x Juliet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s375.photobucket.com/albums/oo196/blizprince/?action=view&amp;current=DSC00443-2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i375.photobucket.com/albums/oo196/blizprince/DSC00443-2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even above the bushes of roses&lt;br /&gt;Even under the moon so close&lt;br /&gt;You're trapped with beauty alone&lt;br /&gt;I kneel with my heart exposed&lt;br /&gt;Risking abandonment into sorrow&lt;br /&gt;Escape with me, your would-be romeo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i actually wrote this during my lunch break when i had a cold. just random but i wanted to draw something for it heh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-3988414469384847734?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/3988414469384847734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=3988414469384847734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/3988414469384847734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/3988414469384847734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/02/romeo-x-juliet.html' title='Romeo x Juliet'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-839991529238867216</id><published>2009-02-03T22:11:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T22:47:59.408+08:00</updated><title type='text'>pin this on someone.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-839991529238867216?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/839991529238867216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=839991529238867216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/839991529238867216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/839991529238867216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/02/pin-this-on-someone.html' title='pin this on someone.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-5128065195601621741</id><published>2009-01-31T00:46:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T00:52:19.501+08:00</updated><title type='text'>till death do us part... or whoever kills the other first.</title><content type='html'>i feel an implosion of emotions coming soon. MEHHHHHHHHH. it's the lunar new year and for some reason all feelings of festivities are replaced with this little messed up annoying feeling. she went AWOL on me again. lol, here i was, happy for 1/2 a day that she texted me. HA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wishful thinking eh. whoever came up with nice guys finish last ain't kiddin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;i may not be the only one for you, but you're the only one for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-5128065195601621741?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/5128065195601621741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=5128065195601621741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5128065195601621741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5128065195601621741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/01/till-death-do-us-part-or-whoever-kills.html' title='till death do us part... or whoever kills the other first.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-1625281940921225783</id><published>2009-01-22T23:24:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T23:53:27.545+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Any slower it'd be going backwards.</title><content type='html'>ugh, another mindless rant coming :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lol we finally texted. that was only because i was right smack in front of her. LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL. pathetic isn't it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what is she afraid of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a wall forming between us,&lt;br /&gt;built up by your undecided indecisiveness.&lt;br /&gt;strange it seems i've always been here,&lt;br /&gt;fencing with insanity and tears.&lt;br /&gt;you shy away from my wide open arms,&lt;br /&gt;waiting for your day to come.&lt;br /&gt;you've been my Juliet all along,&lt;br /&gt;i'm your romeo - complete my heart's song.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-1625281940921225783?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/1625281940921225783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=1625281940921225783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/1625281940921225783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/1625281940921225783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/01/any-slower-itd-be-going-backwards.html' title='Any slower it&apos;d be going backwards.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-7169256664236522442</id><published>2009-01-19T01:48:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T01:54:44.968+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heart.</title><content type='html'>argh. what i'd give to hear her say she misses me. she ain't gonna stop me from loving her though. i'll wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s375.photobucket.com/albums/oo196/blizprince/?action=view&amp;current=JuLiIllus-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i375.photobucket.com/albums/oo196/blizprince/JuLiIllus-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was something i drew for her. god i miss her so much. i wonder if she forgot how it feels like to be with me. hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here i am staring at perfection waiting for my promise to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-7169256664236522442?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/7169256664236522442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=7169256664236522442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/7169256664236522442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/7169256664236522442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/01/heart.html' title='Heart.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-7012934538352472244</id><published>2009-01-02T23:38:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T23:50:50.092+08:00</updated><title type='text'>breakthrough</title><content type='html'>realized something today, was trying to lie to myself but today, i knew it was true. sigh. too tired to blog or even think about anything. if not i'll just end up in tears again. endure it is then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-7012934538352472244?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/7012934538352472244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=7012934538352472244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/7012934538352472244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/7012934538352472244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/01/breakthrough.html' title='breakthrough'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-1295934047725905212</id><published>2009-01-01T23:39:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T19:04:57.964+08:00</updated><title type='text'>if it kills me</title><content type='html'>怎么我的心那么痛？&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我安静一个人窝在角落，&lt;br /&gt;反复两人间不明的承诺。&lt;br /&gt;默默期待彼此温柔疼爱，&lt;br /&gt;只见我心理承受的伤害。&lt;br /&gt;好想问你说好的辛副呢，&lt;br /&gt;但不知能不能接受事实。&lt;br /&gt;不知为何要帮你找借口，&lt;br /&gt;也许是真的真的爱上你。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;really hurting right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-1295934047725905212?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/1295934047725905212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=1295934047725905212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/1295934047725905212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/1295934047725905212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2009/01/if-it-kills-me.html' title='if it kills me'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-2195898271946316657</id><published>2008-12-31T00:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T01:09:15.856+08:00</updated><title type='text'>worth.</title><content type='html'>do men really think that their self worth is somehow directly linked to the size of their penis in any, ANY way at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With 2008 fading with every passing second, people tend to look at the past year and scratch off things in their old new-year-resolution lists (if they have one)and try to see if their goals were fulfilled --- Did i lose 10 pounds? Did i treat my family better like i'm always telling myself to? Did i make preparations for the down payment of the car?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically things that make people feel good about themselves. Things that make them feel less like shit LOL. So, with people scratching off their to-dos and using blanko on the rest, it made me start thinking about how our worth is measured, whether monetarily or other forms, lets say emotionally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, i would say that emotions are more important and how i value relations more than money. Point being, feelings = important for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, just received OMG-WTF-ROFLMAO-HINDENBURG news. But let's not let that get in the way of me blogging (: where were we... oh! Feelings, value and worth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How i gauge myself to be a man is whether i can satisfy my partner's  needs, again, emotional and monetarily. I am golden when my partner can come to me for whatever reason without worries. That i can be her shoulder, her ear and her embrace. I tend to have a very male oriented view on that and i'm very, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;VERY&lt;/span&gt; happy when she opens up to me, even if it's things that hurt me. It's only then where i find myself worthy of being there for her and that i am the one she can always turn to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My post seems to be trailing off into senseless babbling as per normal so it seems right that i should end this post soon heh. 2009's coming, time does fly doesn't it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't tell me if i'm dying cause i don't want to know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-2195898271946316657?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/2195898271946316657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=2195898271946316657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/2195898271946316657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/2195898271946316657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2008/12/worth.html' title='worth.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-940297007967735925</id><published>2008-12-25T01:35:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T02:06:56.187+08:00</updated><title type='text'>noose.</title><content type='html'>argh, i deserve to stop breathing right this very minute. i was mean to my baby. it was so annoying that i was mean to her. but but it wasn't like it was without reason. ever since i left for hk, i feel that she doesnt miss me, even though she says she does, her actions dont seem to tally. i mean, if you miss me, text me for crying out loud. Whereas i was in hk fretting over how to get a sim card, using patrick's phone and even using his msn. I actually spent 130 RMB / 65 ringgit on the sim card in shen zhen and we had less than 10 texts. trying to put in all the effort i could. scouring hk, macau and shen zhen before finding the forever friends bear. thankfully i found it on the last day. sure was hard as hell finding a hallmark store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then then she goes out and no text for 6 hours. so i was waiting for her text and when she finally did it was 11pm and she just got home. So she comes home and goes online as per usual and like a zillion msn conversations again, of course im left here idling alone. even though im supposed to be important to her, i do not feel that way at all. not talking or showing your feelings to someone doesnt mean they know how you feel. im no freaking psychic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my primitive male brain comprehends that when you miss someone, you text or call them even if you're busy. you fork out time from the oh so hectic schedule and spend 5 minutes tops to text them. it's the little things that count right? im not so unreasonable and going to say that you should text me every 5 minutes, but 6 hours is a little overboard i would think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND i think she thought i was hinting something on facebook. right. Anywhos, i told her that i felt that being her friend was better IN THE SENSE that they get more attention from her. like she tells me to hold on and just goes on chatting for 15 minutes before coming back to me after i prompt. i haven't spoken or texted you much the whole day, i'm just too excited to see you. i should tone it down shouldnt i? lest she finds me annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, being the unbelievable retard i am, i was being a jackass and a jerk. unforgivable and it didnt help at all. in fact i think it made things a whole lot worse. fancy that for my christmas gift. sigh. so if you guys will excuse me, time to hang myself with guilt and rethink about my personality for a bit. toodles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-940297007967735925?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/940297007967735925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=940297007967735925' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/940297007967735925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/940297007967735925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2008/12/noose.html' title='noose.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-7970273181304412778</id><published>2008-12-24T23:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T00:12:40.960+08:00</updated><title type='text'>gingerbread disaster.</title><content type='html'>Rain's streaming down on this christmas night,&lt;br /&gt;Pulsing, my feelings not meant to come to light.&lt;br /&gt;Looking back to see if i had been naughty or nice,&lt;br /&gt;Thinking of you not twice but thrice.&lt;br /&gt;Pondering if snow would fall in my life,&lt;br /&gt;If hope would ever melt away my plight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;meh. just some random stuff. merry christmas everyone (:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-7970273181304412778?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/7970273181304412778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=7970273181304412778' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/7970273181304412778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/7970273181304412778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2008/12/gingerbread-disaster.html' title='gingerbread disaster.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-1846768732282783136</id><published>2008-12-23T17:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T23:10:27.189+08:00</updated><title type='text'>barely breathing</title><content type='html'>ahoytharmatey. Seems like irony's laughing it off at my face. Evidently, he's her safest place to hide. I was so happy to just be back at the house, but i wasn't really welcome. Sometimes it does deem like my existence is so meager and pointless. i think i'm getting too close for comfort. Now i feel like im a fool. meh. i'm not okay. i feel like im pushing daisies while im still walking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But later on she did confide in me a little and it did make her feel better. i feel like superman to be able to make her smile (: but there's this nagging question in my head that keeps biting down on me. "Did she kiss him when they were out?" I'm afraid to ask her lest i make her feel uncomfortable. But it is a reasonable issue for me to know right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss her so much right now. i can't even spend christmas with her. if only she knew how much i missed her in Hong Kong, how everything i did reminded me of her and unconsciously i was saying to myself 'how i wish she was here;she'd love this place so much;i want to hug her and adore her' and i was pacing through the streets staring at my phone and holding it in my hands just waiting for her text. felt dumb after 3 hours of holding it in my hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to bid goodbye for now, christmas eve coming soon! in the meanwhile, be good!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-1846768732282783136?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/1846768732282783136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=1846768732282783136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/1846768732282783136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/1846768732282783136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2008/12/barely-breathing.html' title='barely breathing'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-1267385563591657309</id><published>2008-12-05T22:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T23:56:05.039+08:00</updated><title type='text'>我们，不是你和我</title><content type='html'>peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewww BOOOOOOOOM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the sound of the crashing of my attempt to form a bond between us. Never a bright day in my life lol. this shit is sad. Tried to get her to talk about getting the elephant out of the way and she said that it was her problem to solve and she didn't want to talk about it. I mean it is our problem and i want to do whatever i cant to help. Apparently, me shutting up works for her lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're in this together but we're not dealing with it together. I tried to understand it from her point of view. | I'm in a relationship with a boy which i met again in sg. But i have a over compulsive and very possisive boyfriend... oh i mean ex. I'll figure out my next step if the sg boy can come to kl, i'll find an excuse to break up with kl dude! |  kl confirmed, still dont see anything different. Guess i have to wait abit longer, be more understanding. Opportunity arises for her to make it clear to the ex, to bring things to the light! --------- CONFOUNDED! FEELINGS HAVE THRAWTED HER PLANS. At least that's what i think is happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting paranoid, i don't know what's what anymore. I need her to show me how she feels, what she's thinking. I'm getting blocked out from "OUR" first real problem "TOGETHER". Apparently it didn't occur to her that it is against my pridea and my principles to just sit idly and watch freaking chernobil go into meltdown and eradicate the very meaning of relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here i am tucked away in the corner of my living room wrapped in my blanket and up to my head with emotions that would make a drama queen gape in fucking awe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-1267385563591657309?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/1267385563591657309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=1267385563591657309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/1267385563591657309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/1267385563591657309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2008/12/blog-post.html' title='我们，不是你和我'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-5227704456194679092</id><published>2008-12-02T21:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T23:31:02.251+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Indecent Exposure</title><content type='html'>Howdy howdy howdy has been a while hasn't it - since i felt the need to whine and pour all my emotions into an electronic diary. She was quarreling with her ex again. I didn't exactly hear what it was about and history tells me that attempts to pry would lead to a wall longer than the great wall of china. soooo, being the incredible nice guy i am, i had to suck it up and keep my fly trap closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After their argument, i told her that maybe it was time for her to tell him to sod off. I mean she's enjoying the best of both worlds right now. That shouldn't be the case. It's either one or the other right? RIGHT? She has me to be her emotional support, and when im lucky enough to be in KL, i can be her physical support too. Why in the name of all that's good would she need him? "it's hard to break up with him she says" MEH. Shove it in his face and tell him it's fucking over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said it was kind of impossible for her to tell him to bugger off. My heart instantaneously shattered into billions of pieces, each minute piece bleeding everthing of me as i smiled on. Doesn't she know how much it hurts me? How it feels to be caught in this mess?! If she was any other girl i would've kicked her all the way to saturn by now. But she isnt some other girl, she's everything i have ever wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told me that she would find some excuse to break up with him... and till now, the only excuses i've heard are those she made for him. I'm not a religious man but i'd sure as hell start praying to god if it helped even the slightest bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm simple guy, i don't ask for much nor does it take the national treasury to satisfy me. I just want her to be mine - wholly. Sucks to be me right now. I would post more, but my brain is pretty much fried. *exhales*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, i have to be calm and patient. I'm here clockwatching this beautiful mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.&lt;br /&gt;Hooked up my laptop to the home theater system... sounds friggin awesome! Now i can submerge myself in emo music - with surround sound goodness!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-5227704456194679092?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/5227704456194679092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=5227704456194679092' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5227704456194679092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5227704456194679092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2008/12/indecent-exposure.html' title='Indecent Exposure'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-2783802551698556624</id><published>2008-11-21T22:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T23:18:30.851+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Emotional Torrents.</title><content type='html'>w.t.f. i just got back from kl and i have so much crap raining down on me i feel the grand canyon is gonna overflow. Shit doesn't stop for anything does it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recollection about the trip. Let's just focus on the key points here. Most of the days were spent with my girl (: apart from that it was just mindless hours of hanging at the Cyber Cafe hoping to get any bit of satisfaction and self worth through killing some newbs. Another highlight of the trip was meeting Lionel. First time meeting him but he's a really cool guy. One who has experience in life and has knowledge to share with others. ferreal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, after Gan knocked out, Lionel and i talked about what college life would be like and about future temptations. He was telling me that i should enjoy myself but be smart about it. Also told me that he was almost raped by some college girls, interesting as it sounded, he pushed her off. I respect him for that because he has his own principles. Kind of like me. Ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Made my head spin a little though and it wasnt the chivas. I went through a roller coaster of internal conflicts - namely self doubt. But i did get the answer i was searching for. I should just be myself and stay strong in my beliefs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smoking seems to be the big issue between my girl and I right now. But the underlying issue would be my will power and if i would change. I kind of feel she's expecting me to start smoking and go astray even after i tell her i wont and she'll be there in front of me to slap me with a I-TOLD-YOU-SO sign so hard on my forehead i'd feel it for a fucking century.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of realized that don't really know each other that well yet. Kind of hurtful to know but it did give valuable insight on what has been happening and how insecure i've been. I have to give her some space before i smother her. Really does suck when one realizes his affection has been twisted into something uncomfortable. Sometimes i just don't feel that she cares for me or my opinions. It really is depresssing to feel that way ya know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My only hope is to get to kl soon and be able to shut them all up :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bottom lineeeeeeeeeeeeee is : I know myself well, i know what i'm capable of, i have my principles and i have my morals. Nothing is gonna make me lose sight of my goals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TADA *clap clap*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-2783802551698556624?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/2783802551698556624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=2783802551698556624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/2783802551698556624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/2783802551698556624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2008/11/emotional-torrents.html' title='Emotional Torrents.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5529734083190440367.post-5184187112346285278</id><published>2008-11-19T03:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T04:43:43.648+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Strength.</title><content type='html'>This is a story about a boy who found what he was searching for all his life. Exaggeration? Heck no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all traces back to the innocent time of their primary school days. He first noticed her in primary 4, which was what? 10 years old? Every single day he would go to school by bus and ponder if he would catch a glimpse of her on the bus or at the checkpoint - no matter how fleeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her smile would always send him to places only angels exist. (It still does today)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For reasons unknown, he was elected to be a prefect in school and to his greatest joy, she was one too! One can only imagine how he felt then~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Primary 5 and 6 whizzed by and the boy was still getting butterflies in his stomach whenever he saw her, even from afar or to just walk past her. But was contented with him just being able to see her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On his 12th birthday, he plucked up all the courage he had to ask her to come to his party... and she did! heehe. His birthday is on the 19th of August and hers, with all the grace of god was on the 20th of August. If that wasn't a sign, what else is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the party, the PSLEs quickly came along and they were both busy mugging and in the blink of an eye, they both graduated from primary school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the boy's dismay, she was enrolled into a different school from him. He was heart torn of course, but he thought that it wasnt so bad because he could still contact her online and if he was really good, he would be able to steal a glimpse of her during the break of dawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the cold sleepy mornings of secondary two, the only thing that would warm his heart was nowhere to be seen. Curious about why he hasn't seen her for a while, he asked around and what he unearthed crushed his little world of happiness inside - she had moved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadness pummelled into him like squeezing the universe in a box. The boy was rightfully about to implode when he thought about his crush, his world, had moved elsewhere. His joy of looking at her walk pass at the checkpoint or imagine she was smiling to him whenever she was laughing was obliterated from his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unknowingly, years slipped by between them and two years later he was able to meet up with her in kl. He was still young, only 16 when they met up. He was crushed when he knew she was meeting her boyfriend after him. Though it was a brief meeting, he got to saw her again and it was all that really mattered. Then he knew that their lives were built on parallel worlds, never crossing each others paths again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he was in the car leaving kl, she texted him "i miss you". The boy was confused because he didnt know what it meant. Did she really miss him? Or was it a friendly gesture which was meant to be casual - like "oh hey! i miss you friend!" Though unsure of what it really meant, he was still smiling from his heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 more years skipped by and they had both grown up into mature teenagers or so the boy would like to think. haha. Through some miracle, their lives would cross paths again - She was going to Singapore for a month. The boy was lost when she appeared in his life again. The boy took the initiative to meet up with her. Though scared and still shy as ever, he opened his mouth and talked to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy looked different from what he did before, he sounded way different too! He was becoming more english oriented than his peers and was not sure if the girl would like this "new" him. To his surprise, she was so similar to him it was either WAY TOO FREAKY or WAY COOL (FCKYEAH!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They hit it off so well too hehe. As time passed with every outing they had, he rediscovered feelings he thought were lost.He got to know her a lot better than what he had ever and he was loving it.His affection for her grew exponentially and showed no signs of stopping too! Her smiles would still send him to heaven and her voice would melt away fatigue and make everything seem better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon, he was holding her hands. For the boy, it was a lifelong dream come true. Little did he know was in store for him. They shared their first kiss together under the moonlit sky, one that was filled with so much passion it would move the world and stop world hunger...least he thought so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His heart skipped two beats everytime he saw her (note: it's one more than other people :D) He knew she was the girl for him and that she deserved the best he could offer, so he started changing himself. The boy started going to the gym, picked up the guitar and even made plans to go to kl with her. heehe. He got to know her better and found out that she has a very complicated thing with her ex/boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; At any rate, he was prepared to accept the tests/trials ahead of him, ahead of them. The girl, on the other hand was uncertain about their relationship at that moment. But the boy could only bear with it and do whatever he could to let her feel his sincerity. He stood by her whenever she quarrelled with her ex, trying to be the only shoulder she'd ever need, though she never really relied on him. It was nice of her to not rely on him, but it killed the boy inside knowing that he couldn't be there for her, that he was not that important to her yet. Still, the boy told himself to keep smiling so that she would never see him cry and never let her be upset because of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy chose a life with her knowing it wouldn't be a walk in the park and there were times where he was riddled by doubt and felt weak inside but somehow, he always managed to pull through. The girl still didn't go to him for support or let him into her other life. For the boy who was madly in love with her by now,  it was like his heart is being stabbed with a rusty knife and left to bleed in open air, hanging by the arteries hopefully dying of tetanus if he doesn't bleed to death first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet again, he somehow managed to smile and offer his hand to her, all she has to do is take it. He became more in tune with his feelings and that he knows that he could spend the rest of his life with just her in his life. The boy realised then that he loved her and would be here beside here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's in kl this week, from the 14th November - 21st November and it's the 19th November. That boy is writing his story into this blog with hopes that he can feel better by writing it out and that if she ever stumbles upon this, understand what he's feeling inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you baby &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5529734083190440367-5184187112346285278?l=clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/feeds/5184187112346285278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5529734083190440367&amp;postID=5184187112346285278' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5184187112346285278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5529734083190440367/posts/default/5184187112346285278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://clockwatchingbeautifulmess.blogspot.com/2008/11/strength.html' title='Strength.'/><author><name>Evan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06897897426878439597</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
