<?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-6891290089485403577</id><updated>2012-02-10T07:30:39.387-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mile in My Shoes</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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>180</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8202379793676155210</id><published>2012-02-10T07:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-10T07:30:39.402-08:00</updated><title type='text'>cherishing every details of life</title><content type='html'>MARRIAGE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I’ve got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn’t love her anymore. I just pitied her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn’t have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but needed a month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month’s time and she didn’t want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She requested that every day for the month’s duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told Jane about my wife’s divorce conditions. . She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don’t tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outsidethe door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn’t tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly it hit me… she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it’s time to carry mom out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove to office…. jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind…I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Jane, I said, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed – dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from the whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push thru with the divorce.– At least, in the eyes of our son— I’m a loving husband….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse’s friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Do have a real happy marriage!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don’t share this, nothing will happen to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you do, you just might save a marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8202379793676155210?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8202379793676155210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8202379793676155210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2012/02/cherishing-every-details-of-life.html' title='cherishing every details of life'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-1616368138509169729</id><published>2012-02-05T06:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T06:59:21.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'>naive confession and denial.</title><content type='html'>New year, new beginning. That's probably what I said last year, few years ago, many years back then. As a matter of fact, new year doesn't come with a fresh new start, you can't undo what you've done, or in my case, pretend like the past wasn't any trouble. There were lots of ups and downs during my time in Shanghai, unavoidable fights and dramas. I blatantly claimed that I was mature enough to be independent that time which turns out wasn't so right after all. Made mistakes, learnt my lessons and I guess life goes on. Apparently, I wasn't so lucky with my personal relationship either but thanks to you, I learnt it the hard way and here comes the time where we all should finally settle for what it's worth. For some time, I had no clue where this is going, or any idea how I could get through the hustles but if 'stand still and move on' is my only choice then I presume I'll be just fine like any other broken couple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Given the chance that I've moved back to my hometown where everything won't be the same anymore, I'll take it as a rebuilding opportunity or whatever you people call it. The truth is moving on isn't hard, it's what you leave behind that makes it difficult, how every quick flash of scenes and images draw you back without you even realizing. Anyway, none of that matters now, I'm a grown-up and I shall get back up every time life knocks me down. Thanks to you for forgiving, for the chance and for going through the rough time with me, I can be a better me. Now, if it's not too late to greet everyone a very happy Chinese New Year. Best wishes from Lie's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-knFKbHtkwqc/Ty6Y62voqJI/AAAAAAAAApg/a8FNjWgUOPU/s1600/ff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 293px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-knFKbHtkwqc/Ty6Y62voqJI/AAAAAAAAApg/a8FNjWgUOPU/s400/ff.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705665914820143250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-1616368138509169729?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1616368138509169729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1616368138509169729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2012/02/naive-confession-and-denial.html' title='naive confession and denial.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-knFKbHtkwqc/Ty6Y62voqJI/AAAAAAAAApg/a8FNjWgUOPU/s72-c/ff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-888937328308219261</id><published>2012-02-05T06:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T06:12:40.204-08:00</updated><title type='text'>last 2011</title><content type='html'>I’ve made mistakes in my life. I’ve let people take advantage of me, and I accepted way less than I deserve. But, I’ve learned from my bad choices and even though there are some things I can never get back and people who will never be sorry, I’ll know better next time and I won’t settle for anything less than I deserve.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-888937328308219261?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/888937328308219261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/888937328308219261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2012/02/last-2011.html' title='last 2011'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-827831021481954861</id><published>2011-12-07T01:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T07:15:32.221-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All yours.</title><content type='html'>I tend to view the world with some sort of cynicism. I don’t get well with people I’ve just met because I feel socially awkward around them. Sometimes, I can’t tell if I’m really that way or I make myself out to behave that way as a defense mechanism. Maybe both. I don’t really trust myself or people around me to let my guard down. I feel like the things I say or do may someday be used against me. I am nervous, my fight mechanism is perpetually in overdrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there are certain people who come into my life and somehow manage to break my walls down, slowly but surely. And then the words are tumbling out of my mouth too quick and before I know it my entire being - my feelings, my thoughts, my memories, my secrets, my heart.. Everything is suddenly theirs to keep, to safeguard. And then I get scared. Because those are the people who always end up leaving me, taking parts of me I never get back again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-827831021481954861?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/827831021481954861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/827831021481954861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/12/all-yours.html' title='All yours.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8399132254892858940</id><published>2011-09-20T01:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T01:57:46.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>15degrees and lower.</title><content type='html'>I can feel the winter breezes out of my window and it's fucking September right now. Winter is indeed such a pain in the ass where I'll feel gloomy most of the days during that months. Not being able to wear nice outfits, not the mention the intolerable humidity that obviously impacted on my skin at some point. Well, good thing spring comes after winter where by that time I'll be somewhere close to mommy and daddy. Everything with school went not so good I should say, been skipping few classes due to the improper morning schedule plus most of the teachers here are utterly boring. And each time I managed to attend the morning class, I'll end up sleeping half through the class. Epic, doesn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it made me wonder what the fuck am I doing here. I'm not here to study (goes with the fact I skipped more classes than those I attended), I profoundly spend regular money for unimportant stuff (this one can't be helped). This is seriously ridiculous on second thought, why would I stay far from my beloved ones, why would I waste those kind of money and time, why would I let myself slack through these upcoming 6 months? Where the bitter truth is I could have started working and earned my own money. I hate the way I'm too indulged in the comfort and privileges given by daddy, and often forget that I'm just in the right age to work my ass off instead of keep on spending shit. I demand and give nothing in return :(. Well, pls just wait a bit more, dear mom and dad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8399132254892858940?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8399132254892858940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8399132254892858940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/09/15degrees-and-lower.html' title='15degrees and lower.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2769717824701330940</id><published>2011-09-15T04:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-15T04:06:33.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>always do, always will.</title><content type='html'>So long my friend! I'm desperate for a good and proper internet connection over here. My lame connection in the dorm is one of many reasons I get furious so often these days. I don't know how to start, but let's begin it this way. Well, I'm currently here in Shanghai, finishing my last half year of Chinese studies. Been here a few times, and now that I get to stay here for quite some time, I realize this is just another great city to live in. Ever since I get here, things are just great, good foods, nice friends, incredible shopping venues, beautiful city and amazing many new things to be learned. I like it here, not a bad place to spend my last half year of fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong though, things aren't all so great here. Apparently I left to China just one day after my mom and dad left to Africa for their vacation so I kinda missed the thrill of kissing them goodbye. And worse part of being alone, far from my family is that it makes me sort of emotionally unstable. And yeah, what's worst than a long distance relationship? Number one reason why people giving up on love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Misunderstandings, over-possessiveness, massive insecurities, they are just another shits I wish to kick outta my life. Being in this kind of relationship makes me assuming the worst out of everything and I hate myself for being so negative all along. Not to mention the big fight where we thought we lost respect to each other, where we tried to defend ourselves and keep blaming the other for causing such a mess. Question is who survive LDR? There are some, but most of them, they don't make it no matter how hard they hold on. Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength. Well anyhow, I believe things are gonna work out just the way I want it to be. Happy one and a half boy !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2769717824701330940?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2769717824701330940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2769717824701330940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/09/always-do-always-will.html' title='always do, always will.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6250742424588637727</id><published>2011-08-23T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T20:49:56.318-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ain't goodbye yet.</title><content type='html'>Few hours left until my flight to Jakarta and I get all upset that I have to leave lovely people behind. Well, it's just for 6 months though, a very short period of time. I've never once love staying at my hometown, but this time I really had a great time. There was few farewell party and dinner before I left. I shall thank my cousins for the quality time we had, and of course the fun party the other day. Thanks to my high school mates too, who purposely scheduled a day-out with me. Another thanks to my girls for the last memorable night in Medan. Lastly, thank you mom and dad for nagging, yelling, and complaining all the time, I'll sure miss you both. Well, half year it is and I'm done. I'll get to see them as much as I want, I'll get to call them anytime and we'll have so much fun at the end of the day. Take care everyone here, I'll see you guys again in a bit xx ♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6250742424588637727?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6250742424588637727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6250742424588637727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/08/aint-goodbye-yet.html' title='ain&apos;t goodbye yet.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-1239949267094214914</id><published>2011-08-22T08:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-22T09:41:46.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>go to hell irresponsible people</title><content type='html'>I guess the title of the post explains everything. No one is ever born irresponsible. It is inside us, the consciousness to become responsible individual that gain respect from other people. But I guess the consciousness does not live in everyone. Some people make decision for themselves, some people do something for themselves, and most of the time, those people do not realize they hurt and cause pain to their surroundings for being so selfish themselves. Doesn't matter though ! Everyone is selfish, it's just the degree of selfishness that differ. My personal judgment, being selfish is okay, but being irresponsible is not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're not living this life by ourselves, we need people around, that is why we have family, relatives, acquaintances, friends, and most importantly life partner. Often for the sake of selfishness, we hurt too many people and worse, not even feel sorry about it. But what's worst? IRRESPONSIBLE. Yes, being irresponsible is far way more disrespectful than being selfish. I hate it when people did something awful and act like it's no big deal. Come on shallow people, can you just stop hurting other's feeling? This world does not fucking revolve around you. So please, just please think twice for every decision you're making.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, what I'm trying to say is sort of twisted and difficult to explain. An example or illustration could do better description. Let's say you're finding a partner to start a business, you got the deal, signed a contract, and every decision in future are made by two of you. You can't simply act like you wish and think your partner will be okay with it, that's absurd. Good thing is, there is a law ! You can always sue your partner for breaching the contract under tort or negligence. Thus for every loss you suffer, you'll be compensated in some way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, there is this partnership that does not based on any contract. You both decide to form a strong bond together and that's it ! Just you and me. I could acted like an asshole and there's nothing you can do about it. Dang ! How unfair is that? Right, very unfair. There's no effing law you could use to sue me, nothing. You either deal with it or break up. This is why I wish nothing but responsibility from my partner.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-1239949267094214914?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1239949267094214914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1239949267094214914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/08/go-to-hell-irresponsible-people.html' title='go to hell irresponsible people'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-5675639789193445929</id><published>2011-08-21T23:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T23:31:41.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>6 months</title><content type='html'>Leaving house in 2 days doesn't feel so right, I get so upset and scared. This time is 6 months, more or less. Well, mom is always mom, dad is always dad, brothers are always brothers, cousins are always cousins, regardless of how frequent we contacted each other, nothing will change. But someone is not always someone. Today we're stranger, the next day you're my date, the day after tomorrow we could pretend like we never knew each other. Sucks big time. Apparently, 6 months is definitely a very short period of time, but you know, when people changed, 1 day is more than enough, we never know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-5675639789193445929?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5675639789193445929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5675639789193445929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/08/6-months.html' title='6 months'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2392524484039952852</id><published>2011-08-18T06:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-18T06:49:02.833-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If eyes could speak</title><content type='html'>Standing close to me close enough to reach perfect time to tell her&lt;br /&gt;But I can't even put the words together&lt;br /&gt;Bevelizing eyes getting in my disguise&lt;br /&gt;Can't you see me hiding?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I afraid of a finding?&lt;br /&gt;I know what I'm thinking&lt;br /&gt;But the words won't come out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If eyes could speak&lt;br /&gt;One look would say everything&lt;br /&gt;About the way you smile,&lt;br /&gt;The way you laugh&lt;br /&gt;The way you dress,&lt;br /&gt;The way your beauty leaves me breathless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If eyes could speak&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't have to talk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we go again trying to pretend My hand is steady&lt;br /&gt;The way she looks tonight isn't helping&lt;br /&gt;Vision's getting blur gotta calm my nerves, it's now or never&lt;br /&gt;There's only one way to the answer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what to tell her&lt;br /&gt;But the words won't come out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If eyes could speak&lt;br /&gt;One look would say everything&lt;br /&gt;About the way you smile,&lt;br /&gt;The way you laugh&lt;br /&gt;The way you dress,&lt;br /&gt;The way your beauty leaves me breathless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If eyes could speak&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't have to talk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I can finally care of us&lt;br /&gt;Finally get the nervous people mind&lt;br /&gt;And tell you the things I can't say&lt;br /&gt;And baby I would look into your eyes&lt;br /&gt;And maybe you will finally realize&lt;br /&gt;Words are just words anyway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If eyes could speak&lt;br /&gt;One look would say everything&lt;br /&gt;About the way you smile,&lt;br /&gt;The way you laugh&lt;br /&gt;The way you dress,&lt;br /&gt;The way your beauty leaves me breathless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If eyes could speak&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't have to talk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell you all about&lt;br /&gt;The way you smile,&lt;br /&gt;The way you laugh&lt;br /&gt;The way you dress,&lt;br /&gt;The way your beauty leaves me breathless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If eyes could speak&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't have to talk&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2392524484039952852?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2392524484039952852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2392524484039952852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/08/if-eyes-could-speak.html' title='If eyes could speak'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-7700224091665193179</id><published>2011-08-18T06:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-18T06:51:24.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'>marry me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RP1d9iPVVFI/Tk0NtDDJomI/AAAAAAAAApE/o-A8oggZx-c/s1600/tumblr_llv5p4dZQz1qaobbko1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RP1d9iPVVFI/Tk0NtDDJomI/AAAAAAAAApE/o-A8oggZx-c/s400/tumblr_llv5p4dZQz1qaobbko1_500.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642180975728894562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forever can never be long enough for me, to feel like I've had long enough with you. Forget the world now we won't let them see, but there's one thing left to do. Now that the weight has lifted, love has surely shifted my way. Marry me, today and every day ♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-7700224091665193179?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7700224091665193179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7700224091665193179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/08/marry-me.html' title='marry me'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RP1d9iPVVFI/Tk0NtDDJomI/AAAAAAAAApE/o-A8oggZx-c/s72-c/tumblr_llv5p4dZQz1qaobbko1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3133766506945149752</id><published>2011-08-09T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T09:53:15.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'>giving in and committing</title><content type='html'>People said the happiest moment you're gonna go through in a relationship is the time when you first get to know each other. The phases afterwards won't be as thrilling as the initial phase, real talk. It's a stupid cycle when you go from friends to close friends to couple and there are fights, unimportant arguments, misunderstandings, and finally the relationship goes boring/flat/annoying/stressing. It's also when you know both of you are not going anywhere but you tried to keep the relationship going til you end up hurting each other. This is so effing common and I hate that fact I go through the same thing again and again. Just when I thought this time is different, problem comes in, those stupid cycle takes place and dang ! there you go, same ending, same story, same heartbreaking decision, just with a different person. Sad? Don't be. Your friends, family, relatives, siblings and people around you are gonna comfort you, "perhaps he's just not the one" "there are a lot of guy out there, better one" "don't be sad, it's not the end of the world". Well, thank you for the fake concerns, I'll do fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the most ridiculous part ! Despite how many times love fails you, there is always someone who's gonna show up and make your heart falls ten feet out of its place. There will always be one opposite sex who make you go head over heels. Remember the butterflies you feel when he said he kinda adore you? Remember how you blush over his romantic texts? That is how sweet love is, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;at first&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. And please believe me, whatever comes up afterwards are those hell you could never imagine.`Even worse, no single couple is gonna escape this, we all go through the same thing, the same complicated process. I swore and promised myself that I'm not gonna see anybody, I'm not gonna date anyone, I'm not gonna involve in any serious relationship for a certain long time, however, turns out I bailed on myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, I let this happen. For this time God, just for this time, please go easy on me. You are the only one that can see the hell I've been through. I ain't asking for anything, just bless this one. If I get to choose, I wouldn't want to fall in love for they say "never fall in love; fall off bridge, it hurts less". You send him in, You make me say yes, You gotta protect me, make this a beautiful story I'd share to my kids, thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3133766506945149752?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3133766506945149752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3133766506945149752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/08/world-doesnt-revolve-around-you.html' title='giving in and committing'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-39727609299727012</id><published>2011-07-25T08:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T08:55:46.851-07:00</updated><title type='text'>be the man</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Every girl needs a man; the kind that will treat you right as well as others; the kind that has enough respect for himself, family, and others; the one that will change for you to just be with you. The kind that searches for you with his heart, the kind that can be trusted alone with a room full of many other beautiful ladies, the kind that won’t cheat on you cause he knows he’s got all he wants and needs already, the kind that’s willing to be your friend and lover, the kind that doesn’t mind calling early in the morning to say good morning and late at night to say good night; maybe even sing you a good morning and tell you a good night story or talk to you until you fall asleep. That kind that will do anything for you, even if it’s just to buy your favorite kind of candy. The kind that will defend and fight for you, the kind that won’t ditch you for his friends when you need him the most, the kind that won’t leave you lonely and wondering, the one that calls you surprisingly, even if he’s with his friends, just to tell you that he loves you and misses you a lot. The kind that isn’t afraid to smile to his friends every time you’re around and tells them, “She’s the one.” The kind that appreciates you for the things to do for him, even if they’re little. The kind that actually thanks you for the little love notes you leave him, the kind that is willing to wait for you when you’re falling behind, the kind that will actually open the door for you, take you out on dates once in a while and buy you flowers cause it’s a Wednesday. The kind that notices your hair when you just got it cut or done beautifully for him, the kind that reminds you that he loves you and that he’s happy with you in case you forget, the kind that just doesn’t want kisses and hugs but to actually be loved and to love the kind that calls you “beautiful” instead of “hot”. The kind that kisses your forehead when you’re down, the kid that tells you to be strong and not to cry, the kind that will go through thick and thin with and for you, the kind that just loves you for who you are. That kind of man, that’s the kind you keep."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-39727609299727012?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/39727609299727012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/39727609299727012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/be-man.html' title='be the man'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6353589276310397007</id><published>2011-07-25T07:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T07:37:54.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>be the guy</title><content type='html'>"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I want somebody to sleep with for the rest of my life and cuddle up with during a movie on the couch. Stay up all night talking about nothing. Get lost in the woods together. Challenge me, challenge him. Talk about dreams, make dreams. Have fight, the kind that only really matter just as long as you’re having them. Someone I can wrestle with, you know, play hard sometimes and not worry about breaking a nail or an arm. A guy who will bring me flowers once in awhile, maybe a rock too or a shell of some sort. Something he saw that made him think of me, made him think “this might make my girl smile” as he smiles to himself. A guy who wants me, maybe even needs me, just a little, enough to hold onto me with everything he’s got.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6353589276310397007?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6353589276310397007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6353589276310397007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/be-guy.html' title='be the guy'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6468184889085321505</id><published>2011-07-22T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-22T10:19:22.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>better life</title><content type='html'>How are you gonna make today better than yesterday? You wake up at the same time every morning, talk to the same person every day, do the same routine, sit behind the same desk, and drive along the same street almost every single day. How are you gonna make a difference then? To me, and perhaps to most people out there, this is how life is. It's all about repeating the same routines, isn't it? And just when you think that you're not happy with your life, stop there, and think all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing much we can do for a drastic change. You can't turn rich, or turn pretty in a night, but you could still be happy without being rich and pretty. What's more important than being happy itself? Your life might be boring and tedious, but that shouldn't stop you from being a happy person, true? Just realize that life is a school and you are here to learn. Problems are simple part of the curriculum that appear and fade away like algebra class but the lessons you learned will last a lifetime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of my tips to be happy, I don't know if they work on others but they definitely work on me :)&lt;br /&gt;- dream more while you're awake.&lt;br /&gt;- forget issues of the past. there's no use to remind your partner of his past mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;- don't have negative thoughts or things you can't control. Instead invest your energy in the positive present moment.&lt;br /&gt;- don't hate others. Life is short, remember?&lt;br /&gt;- you don't have to win every argument, agree to disagree.&lt;br /&gt;- never compare your life with others.&lt;br /&gt;- forgive everyone for everything.&lt;br /&gt;- always remember that the best is yet to come.&lt;br /&gt;- and the simplest, smile and laugh more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy weekend, sugah !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6468184889085321505?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6468184889085321505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6468184889085321505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/better-life.html' title='better life'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6895744409118028125</id><published>2011-07-21T00:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T00:12:34.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>listen</title><content type='html'>Don't dwell on the past. Your history can’t be erased, but your future has yet to be written. Make the most of what’s going to happen instead of worrying about what you can’t change. Don’t waste your time being sad, because you’re wasting away moments in which you could be happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6895744409118028125?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6895744409118028125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6895744409118028125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/listen.html' title='listen'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2392792187257986505</id><published>2011-07-19T01:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T02:15:42.814-07:00</updated><title type='text'>after 12</title><content type='html'>Last six months, taken on January 2011.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X6Ohq86ZMW0/TiVJQugFhdI/AAAAAAAAAo0/0F8bq6jhnyU/s1600/old.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X6Ohq86ZMW0/TiVJQugFhdI/AAAAAAAAAo0/0F8bq6jhnyU/s400/old.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630987460806018514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night ! we don't change much I guess, just look somehow older. The same cousins bonding time, minus Ahui Ko taking the photo for us. ♥♥♥ (more photos on facebook)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A3NW1qDbAN8/TiVJQ5Gbc4I/AAAAAAAAAo8/auHUDPcENwY/s1600/new.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A3NW1qDbAN8/TiVJQ5Gbc4I/AAAAAAAAAo8/auHUDPcENwY/s400/new.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630987463651193730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2392792187257986505?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2392792187257986505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2392792187257986505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/after-12.html' title='after 12'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X6Ohq86ZMW0/TiVJQugFhdI/AAAAAAAAAo0/0F8bq6jhnyU/s72-c/old.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-489229364936189062</id><published>2011-07-19T01:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T01:51:15.252-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow White doesn't have to go to work.</title><content type='html'>Going back or not going back to Beijing has become a significant issue to me these past few weeks. I honestly feel no thrill to spend another half year over there. Not that I don't like it there, come on who's gonna refuse the chance to have fun far from your parents, spending some time to yourself, dance the nights off, shop till you drop, wake up at 12 and don't feel guilty at all. That was life in Beijing. It was all about having fun and irresponsible. I had no self-control, I let myself drown in the comfort of spending money that I don't earn. I love living my life that way, but I can't and I shouldn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Considering to quit Beijing is such a pain in the ass. I've been thinking about the after-plan if I'm quitting, I'll either end up working of which I'm not ready for or I'll end up taking master degree of which somehow not possible at the moment. Perhaps there's no harm living my fun life for another half year, but still after long consideration, I still come to think that learning Chinese in Beijing is such a waste of time and yes, money. Frankly, I skipped more classes than those I attended. Instead of reading books, I hit the club and shopping malls. Why would I go back to those days? It was insanely fun, indeed. But dad made me feel like I shouldn't be doing that at my age now. To him, life is all about earning money, building family and being responsible to your surroundings. And I'm just in the right age to start realizing and learning. So let me go back and think all over again, bloody September is just around the corner :'(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-489229364936189062?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/489229364936189062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/489229364936189062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/snow-white-doesnt-have-to-go-to-work.html' title='Snow White doesn&apos;t have to go to work.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8818055502871888703</id><published>2011-07-17T06:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T06:32:01.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>classic excuses</title><content type='html'>Isn't this just so very true? I read down the list and I'm amazed at how point 4,5,7,11,14,15,17,18 describe those exact sentences I wanna throw to men's faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ExnhYMPeiLQ/TiLhIrCbjqI/AAAAAAAAAos/XPO0Laez66w/s1600/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 385px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ExnhYMPeiLQ/TiLhIrCbjqI/AAAAAAAAAos/XPO0Laez66w/s400/1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630310023274663586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8818055502871888703?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8818055502871888703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8818055502871888703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/classic-excuses.html' title='classic excuses'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ExnhYMPeiLQ/TiLhIrCbjqI/AAAAAAAAAos/XPO0Laez66w/s72-c/1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8462057630796298915</id><published>2011-07-16T11:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T12:22:41.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>awake and waiting</title><content type='html'>Almost two in the midnight and I'm still wide awake with confusing emotional feeling. The day was spent with bunch of close friends and new acquaintances. I feel great not staying at my room on weekend. Completely exhausted and drained, but I just can't get into sleep at the moment so I tried to rest myself and do nothing. Ridiculously, this stupid brain started to make up images, stories, and lines. They were those unfamiliar stuff running back and forth in my mind and I get very anxious afterwards. My heart beats faster, hoping that what crossed my head earlier wasn't true and not gonna be true. Do you get that often, dear readers? Honestly, it hits me so fucking frequent and I hate how it makes me feel, no kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were those stupid 'scene', which perhaps is not happening or perhaps not gonna happen, but still you're so cautious and aware because we all know that there's nothing hurt more than disappointment and betrayal. Every time I encounter such thing, I'll normally hold back and think 'ohh, I shouldn't trust someone so much' or 'hey, don't expect things'. But this time, I don't wanna give a fuck anymore. I get damn tired of being cautious. It's true that there's simply too much risk in loving someone wholeheartedly. You don't know when he's gonna turn you down, you don't know when he's gonna break your heart, you don't know when he's gonna flip you out. In fact, you do know that one day in future, there's a big chance or I should say an absolute chance for him to break you heart, but you still hand him your heart hoping that he's different. THAT'S STUPID. Well, love is all about being stupid, isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8462057630796298915?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8462057630796298915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8462057630796298915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/awake-and-waiting.html' title='awake and waiting'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3970742232104073999</id><published>2011-07-14T07:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T07:09:15.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I wanna be the reason to his every why</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TUR2ryKfpHk/Th74QlwVcdI/AAAAAAAAAok/GnhqfvdCL84/s1600/qq.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 291px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TUR2ryKfpHk/Th74QlwVcdI/AAAAAAAAAok/GnhqfvdCL84/s400/qq.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629209548156137938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IQtY3et-8tI/Th74QTdphJI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Q9LrUlhil_E/s1600/x2_594e33f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IQtY3et-8tI/Th74QTdphJI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Q9LrUlhil_E/s400/x2_594e33f.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629209543245923474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3970742232104073999?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3970742232104073999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3970742232104073999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-wanna-be-reason-to-his-every-why.html' title='I wanna be the reason to his every why'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TUR2ryKfpHk/Th74QlwVcdI/AAAAAAAAAok/GnhqfvdCL84/s72-c/qq.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6324679613040641933</id><published>2011-07-11T09:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T09:48:55.957-07:00</updated><title type='text'>worst thing</title><content type='html'>“The worst thing is loving someone when you know you shouldn’t anymore. It’s caring about someone, wondering how they are and what they’re up to when the truth is they’ve stopped wondering about you a long time ago. The worst thing is remembering every single detail of your relationship when he’s obviously long forgotten about you. The worst thing is missing him so much when he doesn’t even realize you’re gone, the worst thing is feeling the same as you ever did, knowing you shouldn’t, because he doesn’t anymore.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6324679613040641933?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6324679613040641933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6324679613040641933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/worst-thing.html' title='worst thing'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3800513275559938863</id><published>2011-07-10T22:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-10T22:52:34.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sinful thought</title><content type='html'>We were once a stranger to each other. We had our past. We had memories with others. We both never know that one another exists. We lived our own life. And this, what we have now, is unplanned. We went from awkward introduction and meeting to a comfortable state, which is a good thing. But what if good thing doesn't always fell good? It finally hits me, the comfortable feeling in fact creates space. We don't try to understand each other anymore, we stop running to each other because we know we have each other. Sounds complicated but true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe everyone has been told to put effort in everything you wanna get. You can't just sit back and wait for good things to happen. Apparently, I did my part, I put effort on you, I reserve a spot for you, I let you in, I profoundly let myself occupied and attached. Yet I'm just a normal individual with great self-protection. You set a space between us, you made it clear that I can't go anywhere near you. I can't help but to do something to make myself secure and safe. I'm building my own wall, where even you are not allowed in. Realize it or not, we just made the space between us even wider. So listen, we do not get unlimited chances to have the things we want. And this, we all know. Nothing is worse than missing an opportunity that could have changed your life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3800513275559938863?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3800513275559938863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3800513275559938863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/sinful-thought.html' title='sinful thought'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-1220175374523828365</id><published>2011-07-10T22:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-10T22:12:17.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>520</title><content type='html'>“I bet you didn’t know that I’m terrified of the dark, &amp; every time I think of you I smile. I bet you didn’t know that I’m terrified of thunderstorms, but I love dancing in the rain. Or how much I laugh with my friends &amp; how much I truly enjoy being happy. I bet you didn’t know how many tears I’ve cried just for you, or how much I doubt myself everyday. I bet you didn’t know how ticklish I am or how I can’t make decisions &amp; how it drives me crazy when you look me in the eyes. I bet you didn’t know that I would do anything to be with you. But mostly, I bet you didn’t know how much I love you.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-1220175374523828365?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1220175374523828365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1220175374523828365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/520.html' title='520'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2548384502537345218</id><published>2011-07-09T00:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-09T00:45:15.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>morning citrus</title><content type='html'>Good day sweeties ! I woke up feeling so good this morning, real good. Until I found out everyone in this house is out, leaving me all alone with no car, no food, nothing. Sucks big time, yeah. Doesn't matter anyway, I love having the time and house to myself, without mom or dad buzzing in and bother the hell out of me. Since I'm freaking free, I went to youtube and abuse the replay button of "The Cataracs - Top of the world ft. Dev", all time favorite, and the video is just so uhh sexy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, I don't feel like blogging right now, can someone just drive me out? I lied when I said I love having the time and house to myself :( I need shopping, good lunch, or just simply hanging out with bunch of friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2548384502537345218?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2548384502537345218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2548384502537345218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/morning-citrus.html' title='morning citrus'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-5758969225664991662</id><published>2011-07-08T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T09:16:25.738-07:00</updated><title type='text'>shithead !</title><content type='html'>Ever feel that mad, like super mad when you wanna slam the door so fucking hard? No, it wasn't like that. Even madder, like you wanna drive at 160 and crash the car in front of you? Or even like you wanna set fire and burn someone alive? Yeah, it's that mad. Ironically, you're tearing while being mad. Funny how you were so happy and cheerful at one minute then when someone let you down, you gone so uncontrollable at the next minute. I guess it's just me being so unstable or it's you being so inconsiderate. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been this pissed off for some time, and I hate feeling this way all over again. That is it, I told myself so many times that shits happened, and like it or not, I have to deal with it. No one's perfect, you can be wrong a lot of the time, we can fight and get mad at each other but nothing, nothing gonna change the fact that I love you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's alright for you to bail on me, it's alright for you to let me down, it's alright for you to have so much fun while me typing this and repeatedly considering to slam my lappy to the floor, it's alright for you to laugh while me crying. But it's not alright for you not to feel sorry at all. Whatever, I don't care, as long as you eventually come home safely, call my name, say sorry and hug me, everything will be fine. Goddamn, I hate myself for being so hell stupid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-5758969225664991662?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5758969225664991662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5758969225664991662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/shithead.html' title='shithead !'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8012509095842291188</id><published>2011-07-04T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T21:10:37.884-07:00</updated><title type='text'>explain how, tough question.</title><content type='html'>I don't understand how you can smile all day long but cry yourself to sleep at night. How pictures never change but the people in them do. How your best friend can become your worst enemy, or how strange it is when your worst enemy turns into your best friend. How forever turns into a few short months that you'd do almost anything to get back. How can you let go of something you once said you can't live without. How even though you know something is best for you, it just hurts the same. How the people who once wanted to spend every seconds with you, think a few minutes of their time is too much to spare. How people make promises despite knowing how common it is for promises to be broken. How people can erase you from their lives just because it's easier than working things out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8012509095842291188?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8012509095842291188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8012509095842291188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/explain-how-tough-question.html' title='explain how, tough question.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8482290966051208888</id><published>2011-07-03T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T09:00:54.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'>unfolded fact</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gV6QxjvP-B4/ThCR2D0QKZI/AAAAAAAAAoU/ycJvoD5z18M/s1600/1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 336px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gV6QxjvP-B4/ThCR2D0QKZI/AAAAAAAAAoU/ycJvoD5z18M/s400/1.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625156292509182354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8482290966051208888?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8482290966051208888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8482290966051208888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/07/unfolded-fact.html' title='unfolded fact'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gV6QxjvP-B4/ThCR2D0QKZI/AAAAAAAAAoU/ycJvoD5z18M/s72-c/1.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2587439378834063954</id><published>2011-06-29T07:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T08:32:46.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'>act like a grown up, think like a grown up</title><content type='html'>We were all young and free back then, but when you hit 21, you know some thing doesn't stay like the way it was when you were 17. We messed things up, we screwed people, we lied, we caused drama, that was all legal and normal when you were teens. You had all the time being a bitch but when you blew your candles on your 21st birthday, you know things changed. You can't just messed things up and expect your parents to clean the shits you caused, that's being a grown up. Hitting 21 isn't a bad thing at all, people started to listen to your opinion, you even get the right to speak out your thought. Mom and dad didn't yell at me as much as they did back then, good thing. That's the changes we see from people around us, how they treat and see us. And what's the changes come from yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started to take responsibility for whatever I did, I don't cry or get upset easily like I used to. I accept the fact that sometimes thing just won't go the way we want it to be. Whatever it is, there's always a reason behind everything happened. Just like now, when God destined us to meet, yet He separated us miles away. I wanna complain, I wanna ask Him why, but none of it gonna make it better. The truth is that nothing worth having is ever easy, and all the best things in life are the result of pain. In the end that's what makes the good things so great and that's what make it all worth the struggle. That's being grown up too, when you choose to fight instead of giving up. When you choose to go through the pain just to make it all worthwhile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remembered how I pushed everyone away just because it's too complicated to handle, just because I can't give the commitment they wanted, that was being innocent and irresponsible. I had no intention to make anyone stay, I was happy being all alone, I felt great seeing people begging and me acting all ignorant and arrogant, that was being a bitch. Well, you can't continue being a bitch when you grown up, so you change and wish when the time you're sincere and true, there's someone worth it stepped in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2587439378834063954?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2587439378834063954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2587439378834063954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/06/act-like-grown-up-think-like-grown-up.html' title='act like a grown up, think like a grown up'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-4245947032492411358</id><published>2011-06-28T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T09:03:12.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>when it comes knocking.</title><content type='html'>Nobody gets to define what love is. Not you, not me, not anyone. But you'll know it's love when it comes knocking. You don't need an explanation, not a reason, not even a logic thought, you'll let it comes in just like that. You know it is it when you wake up in the morning, checking your phone and wish he's there, first to text you. Then it grows stronger when one day you set his photo as your wallpaper, just that you'll remember how he looks like every time you unlocked your phone. Moreover when he's someone you don't get to see that often, you have to do whatever it takes to keep his face well-remembered. You used to keep your phone in silent mode day and night, yet now you changed it to 'loud' and 'vibrate' so that falling asleep isn't the reason not to reply his text. And there are times when you think saying prayer is just a waste of time, so you'll keep it short and clear.. yet now, you slipped his name inside without bothering if it takes 2 or 3 minutes longer. Those little things you did, it's love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did those things mentioned above. Sometimes, it went even more terrible, just like those 15 years old teenagers, I flip my magazine to the last page and see what the astrology says about us, smile when it's good, frown when it's bad and comfort myself that it's not always true. Unfortunately, after all those stupid things you did, someone still doubting how you feel about him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-4245947032492411358?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4245947032492411358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4245947032492411358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/06/when-it-comes-knocking.html' title='when it comes knocking.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-509494366955023479</id><published>2011-06-25T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T20:59:50.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tumblr speaks out</title><content type='html'>I can't believe I just gave up. I just let you drop out of my life. I tried to make you stay, then one day it got too hard and I saw what you really wanted was a life without me. So I gave up and now you're really gone. I wish I could make you come back but tears, wishes and reminiscing do nothing but make my heart break a little bit more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You thought I couldn't do this without you, but guess what, I sleep great at night now. I don't hurt because you're not here. I just had to learn to accept it and move on, and I did. But you, you're the one who keeps crawling back. So next time you think, "oh hey, she's happy, gotta mess that up". It's not gonna happen, because this time, you're not gonna get what you want. This time, I'm gonna get what I want and what I want, is not you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-509494366955023479?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/509494366955023479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/509494366955023479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/06/tumblr-speaks-out.html' title='tumblr speaks out'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2958226058337633675</id><published>2011-06-24T08:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T08:22:41.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>damn, you moved on fast.</title><content type='html'>No, I've just learned to let go quicker. I choose not to waste too much time sulking in my own misery. Just because I bounce back quick, doesn't mean anything I ever felt for that person wasn't real as it gets. It just means I'm getting used to being let down. It doesn't hit me as hard anymore. No one ever set a specific amount of time before getting back into the game anyway. Besides, if someone special came by, it's not like I'm going to just push them away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2958226058337633675?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2958226058337633675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2958226058337633675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/06/damn-you-moved-on-fast.html' title='damn, you moved on fast.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2795986496138825960</id><published>2011-06-23T04:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-23T05:21:04.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>22nd of every June, I'm celebrating.</title><content type='html'>I've been living my holiday without internet access and hurray I survived without logging in to facebook. The holiday has finally come to an end, and soon I gotta go back to dad and all his office stuff. Well, it's not a bad thing. I honestly prefer working for dad instead of flying all the way back to Beijing and learn Chinese. Not that I don't like Chinese, but there are some reasons to why Beijing isn't an option any longer. Same thing with master degree. I know exactly I'm gonna regret it for not doing what I want, but what if something better come into your life and it left you no choice but to give up the earlier plan. Obviously, having the chance to complete the further degree is like a dream comes true to me. However, if I have to trade 'you' for that, I might as well forget that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Idk if you're gonna worth my dream, but I believe meeting you isn't a meaningless coincidence. For what I believe, for what I have faith in, for what I feel, and for whatever it takes, I'm staying. I'll find another way of doing my degree, most probably in some locals university. Don't question me why, don't question me if it's worth it, because idk too. One day, we'll all come to know the worth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, thank you for how you made me feel, thank you for how you keep me so secured and safe, thank you for being real, thank you for not taking me for granted, thank you for the most comfortable hugs and kisses, thank you for making me so great, thank you for every single little thing you did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2795986496138825960?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2795986496138825960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2795986496138825960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/06/22nd-of-every-june-im-celebrating.html' title='22nd of every June, I&apos;m celebrating.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2367155543734484507</id><published>2011-06-19T07:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T07:55:54.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'>kind of a joke</title><content type='html'>There are times when you don't know what the fuck is going on, when you can't find any explanation to the situation you're going through and mostly all those times, you wish there's someone by your side, helping you to figure out. What it is to you when one day you wake up knowing that there's someone out there who was once no one, yet now become someone who's getting more important each day. Without realising it, that someone occupied most of your brain cells and like it or not, he became the only person who you'll think of before sleep and when you wake up the next morning. You hate it being too occupied by someone, you tried to convince yourself that he might be just another 'stranger' who walked in and walked out eventually, but he isn't. He's too significant to be ignored. He's fast. No one has ever attracted you that way. His existence eliminates every guy on the waiting list, no one is worth to be a rival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what it is when you let everyone wait it the line, but you created a 'short-cut' for him. With others, you never say 'yes', but with him, you can't wait to say 'yes'. This is strange and completely unusual. You changed the game, you changed the rule, you changed the prize, you changed almost everything for him. Ridiculously, he's someone you met only once. I feel like shouting out loud, 'You gotta be kidding me, dear God'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2367155543734484507?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2367155543734484507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2367155543734484507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/06/kind-of-joke.html' title='kind of a joke'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-7052606344457009031</id><published>2011-06-08T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T22:36:54.879-07:00</updated><title type='text'>waking up on dance floor</title><content type='html'>Man, I just flushed the finals down with the shits. Here's the good thing about learning foreign language, (red. Chinese), you don't really have to stay up late and memorize every single little thing in your textbook. I barely spent 30 minutes to prepare for the final, and I nailed it just right. It was 11 am when I stepped out from the exam hall and run back home. Ditched the textbooks, get ready to shop and party. Sadly, I get too tired to hit the club that night so I decided to sleep the night off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I practically think it was a good thing to hit the bed instead of the club. Plus it was just 3 days ago when we last party on the dance floor. Well, I sort of trying to stop going to club, you know, when your dad and mom weren't so happy about it and leave you with no choice but to listen. I mean, they're cool with the fact I go to club, but once a week? Nah, they'll kill me. Think about it, aren't those 'not-supposed-to-be-done' stuffs often happen when you get too much drink? It never happen to me though, I'm pretty responsible to keep myself sober all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excuse my personal judgment, but I totally think drunken people are ugly, inside out. And girls? Ohh come on ! You step in the club looking gorgeous with high heels, tight dress, glowing hair and eyes. Then you have to go home clinging to guys with your arms around their shoulders and neck because you're too drunk to walk on your own feet? That's a turn off. And sometimes when they got to lift you up high to avoid the crowds while at the same time, your skirt was pulled up and there goes the free show of your underwear. That's gross sweetie ! Count yourself lucky if you went with your friends, as in real friends. Not those perverted bastards trying to steal your kiss or have a grasp on your boobs and ass. Not to mention that awkward moment when you wake up the next morning and remember nothing. And you get to hear the stories from your friend about how drunk you were last night, and how your lips touched with 'you-don't-know-whose' lips? Now who said all girls are beautiful? I'm gonna stand in the first line to disagree. Count in the manners and attitude.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-7052606344457009031?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7052606344457009031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7052606344457009031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/06/waking-up-on-dance-floor.html' title='waking up on dance floor'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3753943011844782841</id><published>2011-06-06T05:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T09:42:26.458-07:00</updated><title type='text'>perfect denial</title><content type='html'>It was a casual meeting, introduction, and hand-shakes. Who thought someone I knew not long ago could mean a lot to me few months later. With all the flirts, sweet-talks and jokes, I tried not to fall into them. I command my heart to stay still and not to move even the slightest bit. I win. Until I found out that I can't keep on pretending like this. Waking up to your texts and morning greetings are the best things I could think of right now. And when you stop doing so, the day isn't so great anymore, regardless of how many texts and morning greetings I received from the others. Guess it's just about time to stop denying. And please don't tell me it's too late. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AMUJqe0amWE/TezJC3P5hSI/AAAAAAAAAoE/foOBQEmKHzY/s1600/qq.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 218px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AMUJqe0amWE/TezJC3P5hSI/AAAAAAAAAoE/foOBQEmKHzY/s400/qq.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615083886451721506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3753943011844782841?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3753943011844782841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3753943011844782841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/06/perfect-denial.html' title='perfect denial'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AMUJqe0amWE/TezJC3P5hSI/AAAAAAAAAoE/foOBQEmKHzY/s72-c/qq.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8200735998886036784</id><published>2011-06-04T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-04T10:39:41.979-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shattered.</title><content type='html'>Trust me I never plan to go this way, it didn't even cross my mind before. It just happened. Being strong and tough are something I referred as "I used to". Watching you walk away just like that, it breaks me. They say there's always 'the first time' in everything, so here's mine, broken-heart. While I pretend that everything's okay, while I smile at you and say "don't worry", while I act like it's no big deal, I cried inside out. Just when I thought I'm ready enough to move on, I find myself all caught up in you. So tell me how am I supposed to act, darling?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8200735998886036784?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8200735998886036784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8200735998886036784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/06/shattered.html' title='Shattered.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8349731983667810996</id><published>2011-05-19T07:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-19T07:50:54.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>grateful bitch</title><content type='html'>So long after the absence, I've been trying to keep myself busy and occupied so I  could just get the depression outta my head. Good news, bad news, all strike at once. I can't remember the last time I actually laugh or smile maybe? Well, mom always told me to believe in the power of God. And time. She's right, here I am, finally stand strong in front of you people. I could feel a big and bright day ahead waiting for me. But this all ain't anything without my friends, and family. Thank you for the endless support and motivation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, here's the catch up while I'm gone these few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;1. I went for a short trip with the gang last week and it's so damn awesome.&lt;br /&gt;2. I got to meet few fellas few weeks ago in the club and we've been good friends up to today.&lt;br /&gt;3. Mom finally showed me the design of our new house. Designed by one well-known architect in Medan, Awong. Here's one of the image for my future walk-in-closet. I think it's pretty good but I want my closet with glass sliding door. Guess, I'll just talk to him in person this coming June.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rzQpTLGgP84/TdUtf-UKCUI/AAAAAAAAAnw/F9Z16R1hbHc/s1600/d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rzQpTLGgP84/TdUtf-UKCUI/AAAAAAAAAnw/F9Z16R1hbHc/s400/d.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608438938286557506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Oh yes, I booked a flight back home this 11 June. I'll be staying in Jakarta for about two weeks waiting for the renewal of my US visa.&lt;br /&gt;5. I just went so broke and penniless. It's like 3 months salary for some people, and I spent it in 3 hours. How careless I am :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, dear mom and dad, I can't stop thanking for the unlimited privileges you gave me. I promise when I'm returning these privileges, it's gonna be double the blast. Love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8349731983667810996?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8349731983667810996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8349731983667810996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/05/grateful-bitch.html' title='grateful bitch'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rzQpTLGgP84/TdUtf-UKCUI/AAAAAAAAAnw/F9Z16R1hbHc/s72-c/d.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3568006563546263133</id><published>2011-05-06T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T22:32:50.809-07:00</updated><title type='text'>every good things should come to an end.</title><content type='html'>All the pains and damages you caused, left me speechless. Everything we had is gone. You said you love me, you said you'll never leave me, maybe I just heard you wrong. I'm damaged, don't know what to do. Well, I'm about to move on and leave. All I got to tell is how you left me so damaged.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3568006563546263133?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3568006563546263133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3568006563546263133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/05/every-good-things-should-come-to-end.html' title='every good things should come to an end.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-5697273413739625202</id><published>2011-05-03T08:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T08:37:57.631-07:00</updated><title type='text'>xx</title><content type='html'>Isn’t this the moment where one of us is supposed to say: Look, this is ridiculous, we love each other, all couples go through this, let’s give it another try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-5697273413739625202?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5697273413739625202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5697273413739625202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/05/xx.html' title='xx'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-7705361689234404692</id><published>2011-04-28T00:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-28T01:21:40.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bore and random.</title><content type='html'>A long weekend it is. I don't know what are we celebrating exactly, but we got what we called 'May Day' over here and it means holiday ! We're supposed to be in Shanghai right now if it wasn't for the 'fully-booked' tickets during this holiday season. So I'm spending my long weekend just at home and I'm bored. And since I'm so bored, I took some random pictures for fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how it was at first, we shared the same cup for our toothbrush and toothpaste. Then it gets very packed afterward when my housemate increases the population of her toothbrush. Every early morning when I'm about to take quick shower and rush to school, I'll simply grab my toothbrush and dropped everything inside the cup, which means I'll spend another 1 minute to put everything back in place again and it happens every morning, lol. It's only two of us in the unit, and we have like 5 toothbrushes, of course, one's mine and four others are hers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AI6ldYBJTnU/Tbkcs9NcMEI/AAAAAAAAAng/pb53Le68zrA/s1600/IMG_0241.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AI6ldYBJTnU/Tbkcs9NcMEI/AAAAAAAAAng/pb53Le68zrA/s400/IMG_0241.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600539170282680386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After some time, I decided to migrate mine to another corner to avoid the same 'grabbing-dropping-putting back' activities that takes few minutes. So this is hers and mine RESPECTIVELY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F6VCmyVifaQ/TbkcsgdkcxI/AAAAAAAAAnY/7IPid918uEk/s1600/IMG_0238.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F6VCmyVifaQ/TbkcsgdkcxI/AAAAAAAAAnY/7IPid918uEk/s400/IMG_0238.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600539162565702418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o1Mi6onMf-w/TbkcsFVu67I/AAAAAAAAAnQ/cu49y10nDwg/s1600/IMG_0237.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o1Mi6onMf-w/TbkcsFVu67I/AAAAAAAAAnQ/cu49y10nDwg/s400/IMG_0237.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600539155285076914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mine looks kinda lonely in it's new corner but it's okay, it'll get used to it. HAPPY MAY DAY !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-7705361689234404692?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7705361689234404692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7705361689234404692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/bore-and-random.html' title='bore and random.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AI6ldYBJTnU/Tbkcs9NcMEI/AAAAAAAAAng/pb53Le68zrA/s72-c/IMG_0241.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-7512826310776619110</id><published>2011-04-26T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T08:28:44.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>unrevealed truth</title><content type='html'>Some feelings are better left undelivered. Some words are better left unspoken. Some pressures are better left unsaid. Some truth are better left unrevealed. I realize that there are some time when we can't have everything we want. There are these times when things turned out not the way we want it to be, but that's life. Like it or not, we have to cope with it, true? As how I'm going through this difficult phase of life, I learned that you can't force someone/something in your favor. So, here comes the hardest part, sounds so simple and easy, but, by the time you blink, it ain't that simple at all, it is what we called "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;letting go&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the sake of my 21 years of living, I swear I haven't been into a very confusing moment like this. Yet today, I learned how to push my ego down, and be mature instead. Because I know someone is better off without my presence. Let's admit it, the most heartless people you've ever known actually does have a heart and it's broken right now. It's okay, it doesn't matter now, she is a complete adult and she solves broken heart with smile and heads up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-7512826310776619110?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7512826310776619110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7512826310776619110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/unrevealed-truth.html' title='unrevealed truth'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6963206880751363963</id><published>2011-04-19T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T22:11:16.602-07:00</updated><title type='text'>baffle.</title><content type='html'>Never know where life's heading, we all follow the flow and see how things turn out in future. Same thing with me. After years of degree and courses, I can't seem to decide where my future is. I keep on playing and having fun like it was 2008. My heart and brain are floating with zero gravitation, staying in the same place with no direction to head. I used to be someone with big ambition, clear and sharp destination but it ain't like that anymore. Let's start with the brain: it was once so focus and competitive, yet it turns out very inspirited nowadays. There are lacks in a lot of aspects, lack of focus, lack of attention, lack of spirit and lack of motivation. No way it'll keep going on like this, I need to get them fixed and rule. So until then, I'll be taking some time off working things out. Enjoy your mid-tests, Beijing !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6963206880751363963?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6963206880751363963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6963206880751363963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/baffle.html' title='baffle.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6349760430073067157</id><published>2011-04-18T20:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T22:17:02.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>pain in the ass</title><content type='html'>They say I am that ignorant, arrogant, feeling-less woman just because I don't wanna get committed in every relationship I'm engaging. Well, at least the feeling shared between me and 'someone' is true and &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;not fake&lt;/span&gt;. It's undeniable that commitment is something that I would wanna avoid, not because that am irresponsible but more to the reason that I hate being controlled and I'll take one hundred steps backward when one guy started to fall so deep. What I'm saying is, people tend to judge me without looking at themselves. So yes, I'm cruel, cool, and again feeling-less, and whatever hell you're saying I am, but... I do not play ! I did not and will never take someone for granted. At the very least, I made it clear from the start that I might somehow hurt him in future and there's no way for us to be bound by any form of relationship status. Unless he agrees to the term and condition, we'll never go further than friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I feel like an idiot trying to explain something than you stupid people wouldn't understand. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;To avoid any misunderstanding, 'you' refers to those spreading non-sense and judgmental arseholes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6349760430073067157?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6349760430073067157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6349760430073067157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/pain-in-ass.html' title='pain in the ass'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-4906105795347839765</id><published>2011-04-17T22:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-17T22:48:39.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>shallow/stupid/uneducated</title><content type='html'>Had this stomach cramp since morning and I can't get off the bed so I pull my laptop to my lap and start browsing on bed. After few hours of browsing, I unintentionally found the Facebook accounts of some employees working in dad's office. It shocked me when I read one of their status "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;bulan tua bos mw mrhhh..ja,,cpk bgt!!!mendingan mrah'a bln muda!!&lt;MARAH JA MA TEMBOK&gt; ya ntr kusuru dy ngmong ma bibir sy ja....sekali2 dy btuh d ksh ke nikmatan....iih ga kbyang de&lt;/span&gt;" I swear this is the nastiest status I've ever read, and they're taking my dad as a joke. Believe me, this employee as I reckoned, was the sweet, obedient and  pretty hardworking. So I scrolled down to the comments and they started to mention my dad's name in a ridiculous way and laugh their ass off. How the fuck is it possible that some university graduands turned out to be so shallow, and inappropriate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I know working people never like their boss/es. Even when you respect them so much, there must be times when you can't take their pressures and commands. But this is just too much. Instead of notifying my dad about this, I take the liberty to remain silent, indifference. But I ain't forgiving. I prefer revenge, and I promise it's gonna be sweet. Let's see if you prefer working under my dad or me. Until June, bitches.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-4906105795347839765?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4906105795347839765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4906105795347839765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/shallowstupiduneducated.html' title='shallow/stupid/uneducated'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8178807484450652275</id><published>2011-04-17T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-17T11:31:09.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>all over me.</title><content type='html'>It kept me thinking :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8178807484450652275?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8178807484450652275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8178807484450652275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/all-over-me.html' title='all over me.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6142316027087130536</id><published>2011-04-17T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-17T09:55:06.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a night with me wouldn't go flat !</title><content type='html'>Just another weekend, same companions, same laughter, different venue. This is clearly the last weekend to have fun with before the mid-test coming on Thursday and as you might have guessed, I haven't done any preparation for it. Screw the test, doesn't matter how least attention I put on my mid-test, I believe I'll do just fine. So, this is the new club we hit on last Saturday, not bad, great service, cool DJs, and we're their VIP Gold Member :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MTBDXBB9Y-s/TasWBKa5sGI/AAAAAAAAAm4/JnbMMmDln3Y/s1600/DSC01814.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MTBDXBB9Y-s/TasWBKa5sGI/AAAAAAAAAm4/JnbMMmDln3Y/s400/DSC01814.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596591171170840674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3P6NLYcR1pE/TasWtTWFTRI/AAAAAAAAAnA/7WpugPPpWZM/s1600/DSC01837.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3P6NLYcR1pE/TasWtTWFTRI/AAAAAAAAAnA/7WpugPPpWZM/s400/DSC01837.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596591929480793362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were celebrating the birthday of our sister who is obviously the happiest woman on earth that night, no? I mean, come on, having her boyfriend flying all over from Indonesia to Beijing? I'd die for happiness if it's me ! Happy 23 sweetie ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R1VdsnQiq6w/TasXsZ7xEfI/AAAAAAAAAnI/ODCuy1mV-Eg/s1600/DSC01843.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R1VdsnQiq6w/TasXsZ7xEfI/AAAAAAAAAnI/ODCuy1mV-Eg/s400/DSC01843.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596593013581222386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above are some of the photos taken that night. We all know when we went to club, party the night off and wake up the day after, we'll eventually realize that some photos taken are not supposed to be published. All the embarrassing poses, tipsy faces, weird dances and uhh ! What happened in the club, ALWAYS stay in the club.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6142316027087130536?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6142316027087130536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6142316027087130536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/night-with-me-wouldnt-go-flat.html' title='a night with me wouldn&apos;t go flat !'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MTBDXBB9Y-s/TasWBKa5sGI/AAAAAAAAAm4/JnbMMmDln3Y/s72-c/DSC01814.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8185328100323562866</id><published>2011-04-17T08:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-17T09:07:31.599-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the notebook.</title><content type='html'>"That’s the problem with us. We’re both stubborn asses and always want to get our way. We both hate to be wrong and love to be right. But that’s the thing about love. No matter what happens, we always come back for each other, one more time."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8185328100323562866?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8185328100323562866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8185328100323562866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/notebook.html' title='the notebook.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8622855526122265673</id><published>2011-04-11T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T19:52:22.938-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Husband</title><content type='html'>Dear future husband,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's too early to even mention this, but I love you. And I would be happy if you could build me a house like this &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XuoRghfRGqk/TaO9pdRsc5I/AAAAAAAAAmY/KYMdsXrXyrw/s1600/1a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XuoRghfRGqk/TaO9pdRsc5I/AAAAAAAAAmY/KYMdsXrXyrw/s400/1a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594523682055418770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0jfefuTDpE0/TaO9pMnphNI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/Rj85Iv5uqk0/s1600/aq.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0jfefuTDpE0/TaO9pMnphNI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/Rj85Iv5uqk0/s400/aq.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594523677584098514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r-aeZWWkhC4/TaO9o5mbSyI/AAAAAAAAAmI/-NX93XxGpZU/s1600/aa2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r-aeZWWkhC4/TaO9o5mbSyI/AAAAAAAAAmI/-NX93XxGpZU/s400/aa2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594523672478698274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and this kind of interior? please. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1oaeDm-WGBo/TaO-Dw1naiI/AAAAAAAAAmw/6fBTcNUBL88/s1600/bq.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1oaeDm-WGBo/TaO-Dw1naiI/AAAAAAAAAmw/6fBTcNUBL88/s400/bq.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594524133982956066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P2_JU22aTWI/TaO-DnFV52I/AAAAAAAAAmo/GpIT7F2xN-4/s1600/aaa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 324px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P2_JU22aTWI/TaO-DnFV52I/AAAAAAAAAmo/GpIT7F2xN-4/s400/aaa.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594524131364562786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ty-NsQ6lmW8/TaO-DXYnV1I/AAAAAAAAAmg/1WF2c3g-u2A/s1600/1b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ty-NsQ6lmW8/TaO-DXYnV1I/AAAAAAAAAmg/1WF2c3g-u2A/s400/1b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594524127150430034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Wifey&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8622855526122265673?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8622855526122265673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8622855526122265673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/dear-husband.html' title='Dear Husband'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XuoRghfRGqk/TaO9pdRsc5I/AAAAAAAAAmY/KYMdsXrXyrw/s72-c/1a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2968171177073949863</id><published>2011-04-11T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T11:05:50.038-07:00</updated><title type='text'>suffocating</title><content type='html'>This is exactly the point where all my armors fall down. I finally get defeated, in a very miserable way that no one could ever imagine. All these times, all these fucking years, I've been strong for so long, and it left me with nothing today. I repeat it, nothing. Who said I'm that tough girl that doesn't cry? Who said I'm that wonder girl that barely has feeling? For once, this heart soften and beg for forgiveness. I lose and I wave the white flag high. Doesn't mean I'm giving up, just that I'm tired of all these games, these mazes, and life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're there to listen, my dear God, please give me the strength and faith to get through all these. I ain't asking You to make it easier for me, just please give me power to remain strong. Often in the night, I ache for someone's hugs, cares and loves. I know best that mom's could be a big help but I just can't pick up the phone, call and make her worry. So here I am, talking to myself in a quiet dark room, crying the hell out, and keep wishing tomorrow will be a better day. Now you know, this bitch ain't as strong as you thought she is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2968171177073949863?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2968171177073949863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2968171177073949863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/suffocating.html' title='suffocating'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-9166151785492534319</id><published>2011-04-10T00:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T00:32:37.368-07:00</updated><title type='text'>not so sunday.</title><content type='html'>For this weekend, I want nothing to do with school, homework and diet. So the gang and I went to had big dinner 'cheesy chicken' ! Beijing sure is a food paradise, they cook some delicious dishes you can't taste elsewhere. Then we headed for 'solju' and 'maguoli', both are Korean's alcohol. Well, since there are too much in my mind, I actually thought that maybe I could use some beer. It was 11 pm last night after the drinking and karaoke session. And nobody goes home at 11 on Saturday night so we headed to McD and suddenly decided to hit another bar on the block. It is a new bar, offering free beer and roses on their grand opening that day. The atmosphere were great, they even serve 'Shisha' ! Yet, the best part is still the free beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone's enjoying the night I bet, until one of my friends got into fight for some girls and ended up very ugly. Even worse, I got hit on my left eye and it gets very red afterward. Bitter sweet night it is. And since I've spent all the night having enough fun, I need to go back to my studies. Mid test is just around the corner, not so Sunday?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-9166151785492534319?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/9166151785492534319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/9166151785492534319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/not-so-sunday.html' title='not so sunday.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2937036432499568083</id><published>2011-04-08T21:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-08T21:43:36.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>nothing goes right anymore</title><content type='html'>Bright shiny sun yet cold wind breeze out there, supposed to be a good day for everyone, plus it's Saturday. Not for me, I've been spending the night crying out loud for hours. It has been some time since the last time I actually cry, so it feels like some relieving therapy after all the chaos and hectic life. There's too much in my mind, waiting for me to sort them out and when I couldn't take it anymore, I get angry, upset, disappointed and mad. Locked myself in the room, quiet and calm, then I force the brain to start working it's logic but failed. They say most of the times thing does not turn out they way we want it to be, so I realized. Perhaps this is how life works, and I need to move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't be grieving over and over again, there are a lot of stuff waiting to be settled. So hey listen, sorry for never been a good one to you, sorry for the mistakes and flaws, sorry for the burdens and pressures. And obviously, thanks for everything. Everything that no one could give. Until then, love. Be good, be happy :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2937036432499568083?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2937036432499568083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2937036432499568083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/nothing-goes-right-anymore.html' title='nothing goes right anymore'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3008230968565952995</id><published>2011-04-06T18:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T19:00:26.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>winter slash spring</title><content type='html'>good day people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;spring isn't so spring after all, it's shitty cool here and I hate wearing coat ! For it's heavy, plus you look fat in it. true? anyhow, it's supposed to be warmer in no time, so let's wait til we could wear short skirt and tank top. I've been visiting H&amp;M stores few times and I think their collections are dope ! very very much the same material with TOPSHOP with cheaper price. however, you wouldn't like to purchase anything in this store during weekends cause you should wait approx. 1 hour queuing in the '&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;fitting&lt;/span&gt;' line. how sucks is that? well, applause to 'online store' where you don't have to squeeze with hundreds of other visitors BUT you know the consequences, no trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;enough with H&amp;M, now i need everyone's help to find me this JuicyCouture watch. It was an old collection few seasons ago and by now it should be either 'sold out' or 'stop production' but if you guys could find one pls let me know :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-weJzoj1-FKw/TZ0aoRNPgrI/AAAAAAAAAmA/7zX0y8U4f_o/s1600/02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 221px; height: 310px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-weJzoj1-FKw/TZ0aoRNPgrI/AAAAAAAAAmA/7zX0y8U4f_o/s400/02.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592655591380058802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3008230968565952995?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3008230968565952995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3008230968565952995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/04/winter-slash-spring.html' title='winter slash spring'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-weJzoj1-FKw/TZ0aoRNPgrI/AAAAAAAAAmA/7zX0y8U4f_o/s72-c/02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3449210333178771646</id><published>2011-03-31T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T19:12:42.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>takethechance</title><content type='html'>For all the stories you tell about her, I'll smile and say 'she must be one great girl'. For all the smiles you put in your face every time you mentioned her name, I'll say 'i can see that you really loved her'. For all the memories you keep about her, I'll tell you 'it's okay, i don't mind'. Let me tell you what's not okay, it's the pain you create inside me. Abstract and strong. I remain silent while the heart screams 'fuck you'. So baby, come and listen, this is not the chance everyone would have. This is a gamble on a big green table ! By the night the game finished, you either win or lose. Take the chance before the clock stops, unless you wanna hear me whispering "hey baby, don't waste your whole life trying to get back what was taken away".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3449210333178771646?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3449210333178771646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3449210333178771646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/03/takethechance-d.html' title='takethechance'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-5607309023554425676</id><published>2011-03-31T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T10:19:52.768-07:00</updated><title type='text'>no, thanks.</title><content type='html'>Stop preaching me on how I should stop being a bitch, I already get the theory. I just don't know how to get it practical. Instead of sitting in front your notebook and typing all the non-sense, please just avoid me. I already told you that I'm not there to please you all the time. I sincerely thanks God for knowing you but perhaps the paths we're going to cross are just different and contradicting, at least that is how I think it is and how I want it to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-5607309023554425676?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5607309023554425676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5607309023554425676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/03/no-thanks.html' title='no, thanks.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3548033133888922802</id><published>2011-03-30T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T20:25:20.049-07:00</updated><title type='text'>break your heart.</title><content type='html'>Ask me again what kind of girl I am, I'll sit back and shut, didn't know what to reply. Take a look or listen to the lyrics below and you'll know exactly what kind of person I am. As simple and as complicated it can be, it explains the complete and real me so much that I can't even believe how could the lyrics reflect me so honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now listen to me baby&lt;br /&gt;Before I love and leave you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;They call me heart breaker&lt;br /&gt;I don't wanna deceive you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;If you fall for me&lt;br /&gt;I'm not easy to please&lt;br /&gt;I might tear you apart&lt;br /&gt;Told you from the start, baby from the start&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm only gonna break break your break break your heart&lt;br /&gt;I'm only gonna break break your break break your heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no point trying to hide it&lt;br /&gt;No point trying to evade it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;I know I got a problem&lt;br /&gt;Problem with misbehaving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you fall for me&lt;br /&gt;I'm not easy to please&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;I might tear you apart&lt;br /&gt;Told you from the start, baby from the start&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;And I know karma's gonna get me back for being so cold&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Like a big bad wolf, I'm born to be bad and bad to the bone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you fall for me, I'm only gonna tear you apart&lt;br /&gt;Told you from the start&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm only gonna break break your break break your heart&lt;br /&gt;I'm only gonna break break your break break your heart&lt;br /&gt;I'm only gonna break break your break break your heart&lt;br /&gt;I'm only gonna break break your break break your heart"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3548033133888922802?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3548033133888922802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3548033133888922802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/03/break-your-heart.html' title='break your heart.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8026005803936342604</id><published>2011-03-28T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T09:50:28.777-07:00</updated><title type='text'>because guilt kills.</title><content type='html'>It is true that I've always been rude and harsh, I ain't care how people judge and comment on me. I do whatever I wanna do, I talk and walk just the way I like. And most of times, I never really care how people feels being around me. But now I know, and i think i could die anytime of guilt. So here it goes, sorry everyone if I've ever offended you in any ways, sometimes I talked shit. When I get annoyed of your attitude and manner, I might as well split out some unpleasant sentences but trust me, I never really meant it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long story it is that I've now come to realize how bad I was. I'll keep today as a reminder and I hope when we meet again in future, you'll see the difference me. Be good and have a good life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8026005803936342604?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8026005803936342604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8026005803936342604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/03/because-guilt-kills.html' title='because guilt kills.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3929212971693449972</id><published>2011-03-27T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T22:06:49.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>emotionally confused</title><content type='html'>Everything is as blur as morning fog. It has almost been 9 consecutive years of being in relationships and I find no thrill in them, I fall in love, I love, I love, then I fall out love. The cycle seems to repeat from time to time and I'm kinda trapped in it. God knows how many guys I've brokenhearted but I just couldn't get committed. The feeling isn't as pure as before and that we all know karma exists, I freaked out. They said try your best to stick to one guy, try to get committed, try to respect people's feeling, try to be serious in a relationship you're having..and so on. I feel like fucking yell at them and say "I tried, I just can't". Call me the bitch, the player, I care no more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3929212971693449972?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3929212971693449972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3929212971693449972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/03/emotionally-confused.html' title='emotionally confused'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8849465592612411582</id><published>2011-03-23T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T10:00:49.774-07:00</updated><title type='text'>brokenfirstlove.</title><content type='html'>I was too young and innocent. You said you love me and you'd want to go further than just friends so I asked my dad if it's okay. He shook his head and so you left. Fifteen years old thought that maybe you'd stay no matter what but you didn't. It was 10 years ago, and when you meet me again, everything changed. Remember when you saw me with the bangs and bicycle? Remember when I told you "I love you too, but maybe this is not the right time"? Don't be stupid. It was fucking 10 years ago and the thing between us doesn't stay the same. Why the hell you think that maybe after all these times, I could still keep the feeling even after you turned your back? Well, now I know first cut is always the deepest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We meet again after years, you stand in front of me, smile, and tell me how beautiful and grown up I am now. You felt sorry for leaving that time and thought that maybe now is the right time for us. It's 10 pm now and I'm standing in front of you, occupied by massive shaking mixed feelings. I try to stay cool calm and collected but I failed. I looked nervous and pale but I managed to get my mind working right. "Sorry, I was never and will never be yours", I replied.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8849465592612411582?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8849465592612411582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8849465592612411582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/03/brokenfirstlove.html' title='brokenfirstlove.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-5128431703408695440</id><published>2011-03-23T09:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T09:32:54.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>comeback.</title><content type='html'>Let's hope this is a real comeback. Ever since I had my ass landed in China, I haven't had any time to update anything on my blog, my bad. Life's great over here ! Unlike what others told me, China is surprisingly comfortable enough to live in, great foods and amazing cheap stuff all over Beijing. Plus, friends here are totally perk to hang out with. I shall say I'm having the time of my life over here. However, it doesn't change the fact that mom and dad live thousand miles away and I often wake up missing them to tears. Four years it is, living far away from them and it's amazing how I can always feel them around every morning I rise and every night I set. Cliche, I miss them every ticking second.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-5128431703408695440?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5128431703408695440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5128431703408695440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/03/comeback.html' title='comeback.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-4864439376150450179</id><published>2011-02-14T09:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T10:01:34.435-08:00</updated><title type='text'>V for Valentine's</title><content type='html'>First of all, of course, happy valentine's people :) Wish you had a great day with beloved ones. I myself, went here and there at noon and then spent all the night long at home. So not special huh? Well, actually there are few dinner invitations but I couldn't decide which one to say yes to so I turned all of them down. Apart from that, I already had one great celebration on Sunday, pre-valentine day at Arya Duta, of course with my special someone. But on the V-day itself, nothing, so nothing special. However, there'll be another post-valentine dinner with friends on the next day so I hope it'll heal my loneliness a bit hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, for all the roses, cakes, teddies and valentine greetings, thank you so much guys. You know I couldn't give the respond you wanted but I am truly appreciating each and everyone's efforts. So unlucky, we girls are allowed to respond merely to only one guy, so in order to respect everyone's feelings, I'm treating everybody the same :) Wish everyone has a great day, spread the love !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-4864439376150450179?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4864439376150450179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4864439376150450179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/02/v-for-valentines.html' title='V for Valentine&apos;s'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-1508027066545892146</id><published>2011-02-12T06:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T07:21:46.832-08:00</updated><title type='text'>counting down</title><content type='html'>Still counting down to the day I left, I HAVE NOT packed anything yet and mom has been yelling from day to night asking me to prepare myself for the -9 degree Celcius winter in Beijing. I guess my luggage would be mostly filled by coats, jackets and sweaters. Uhh, I hate winter. Meanwhile, my life has been so great over here. Post-university life is truly relaxing, meaning that I'm no longer bound to assignments, exams, and late night sleeps. But well, I miss my university life already !! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I have mentioned so many times before, I'm making use of my 'holiday' to the maximum, enjoying it to the last bits so that when I left, there will be no regrets over wasting the holiday time. Mostly spent with hanging out with families, cousins and friends and some spent with playing computer games, watching dvds and EATING NON-STOP. I'm so gonna turn into fatty beast ! Here are some photos taken recently. Well, facebook always have the completer version babes :) Good night ;p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zyI3XAODoAE/TVajZtEPJvI/AAAAAAAAAl0/C-iwK1Uxs5o/s1600/IMG00217-20110204-2156.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zyI3XAODoAE/TVajZtEPJvI/AAAAAAAAAl0/C-iwK1Uxs5o/s400/IMG00217-20110204-2156.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572821250906990322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-stuwltHSRuM/TVajZVOyoNI/AAAAAAAAAls/5YJHoKwcEnM/s1600/IMG-20110210-00122.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-stuwltHSRuM/TVajZVOyoNI/AAAAAAAAAls/5YJHoKwcEnM/s400/IMG-20110210-00122.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572821244508807378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uZ_mcgEpO_I/TVajZXAlz7I/AAAAAAAAAlk/FPWZrxXYyNE/s1600/c3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uZ_mcgEpO_I/TVajZXAlz7I/AAAAAAAAAlk/FPWZrxXYyNE/s400/c3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572821244986118066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TKgwb4eq630/TVajZEvdTHI/AAAAAAAAAlc/E1KB5ppk_wE/s1600/IMG01768-20110210-1714.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TKgwb4eq630/TVajZEvdTHI/AAAAAAAAAlc/E1KB5ppk_wE/s400/IMG01768-20110210-1714.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572821240082418802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY WEEKEND :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-1508027066545892146?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1508027066545892146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1508027066545892146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/02/counting-down.html' title='counting down'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zyI3XAODoAE/TVajZtEPJvI/AAAAAAAAAl0/C-iwK1Uxs5o/s72-c/IMG00217-20110204-2156.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-9041266396321206385</id><published>2011-02-11T09:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T06:50:59.811-08:00</updated><title type='text'>first love</title><content type='html'>Good night people ! I used up my sleep time to blog at this midnight since I can't seem to get into sleep right away. It is just one week away until my departure, and I don't feel like leaving just yet :( I will miss Medan and Kuala Lumpur so much, their sunny dayy could hardly be found in Beijing even during the summer, sigh. If only I can just stay here and start getting my ass to work, dad would stop nagging me to fly over there. So I heard Blackberry services are totally prohibited in Beijing which means I won't be able to update anything through my BB. Moreover, the internet connection in my dorm sucks so much, I'm not sure if I could survive without my BB, facebook, twitter page and all the social interaction media :( But I promised, I would post up an update in every possible opportunity. Deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now guys, I believe each of you have ever been falling in love, even when you're still in primary class, right? Which we often called as the mystical 'first love'. They say first love is the sweetest of every loves you'd ever fall into. And so I recalled mine, it was when I was 12 back then. It was of course, the first time my heart beats for some guy :) I remembered watching him from far and when his eyes met mine, I'd get very very nervous and have this unstoppable adrenaline rushes. Then start worrying if I looked okay or did he noticed that I was watching him for some time already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I recalled the moments, I'd smile at myself and get some sudden excitement, first love is indeed the sweetest. Well, he happened to live in my neighborhood but he then moved away after few years. And I never get to see him again afterwards, either at school or at neighborhood. Sad ending huh? well, we never know what gonna happen in future, I  always wish I'd be able to meet him again some day. So what's your story?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-9041266396321206385?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/9041266396321206385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/9041266396321206385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/02/first-love.html' title='first love'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-5763981626406965795</id><published>2011-01-31T10:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T10:41:26.951-08:00</updated><title type='text'>goodbye</title><content type='html'>January was so emotional, exciting yet upsetting. Well, it wasn't that bad after all, it just makes me learn things the hard way. We all realize that once in a while, everything seems so wrong and that was exactly how I felt about the stuff hitting me at the beginning of the month. I barely step out from my room and speak a word for weeks until I decided to clear my head off by booking one-way ticket to Jakarta and left the mess behind. Days in Jakarta was spent with many of my beloved ones and I feel healed afterwards. Things turned out to be great when I learned how to forgive and forget. Wasn't exactly forgetting the mess yet but I'm trying hard to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now that I'm back in Medan, let's settle the unsettled things. Full preparation has been made before I left to Beijing in 2 weeks time. And another delightful preparation with mom, granny and my supermaid for the upcoming Lunar New Year. Sadly, I just lose one of my uncles few days ago but dad keep telling us that there's nothing to cry of, nothing to be sad about because he believes that Uncle is happier there than here. And he made us believed that as well. May you rest in peace dear Uncle, we're all happy that you're finally free from all the sufferings and pains this earth has caused you. It's such a loss to missed you for this Chinese New Year celebration for there'll be no one making such jokes to laugh at anymore...so goodbye already, we'll miss you, Uncle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, let's get ready for the big rabbit year, fellas ! My two brothers will be back for the celebration and that's awesome :) we haven't celebrated CNY with the complete family members for a while. So this year is gonna be hit ! Red celebration is everywhere, with the typical red lanterns, pink cherry blossom flowers, greeting cards, and most importantly, angpaos ! Happy Chinese New Year my dears :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TUcCKFzxcxI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/b2dMC2zyCpA/s1600/22.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TUcCKFzxcxI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/b2dMC2zyCpA/s400/22.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568421836648182546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TUcCJ1wgCjI/AAAAAAAAAlI/Q5L83QLtMMg/s1600/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TUcCJ1wgCjI/AAAAAAAAAlI/Q5L83QLtMMg/s400/1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568421832339491378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-5763981626406965795?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5763981626406965795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5763981626406965795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/01/goodbye.html' title='goodbye'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TUcCKFzxcxI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/b2dMC2zyCpA/s72-c/22.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6404459897205030869</id><published>2011-01-13T06:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-13T07:04:43.558-08:00</updated><title type='text'>annoying shits</title><content type='html'>There are times when we feel so annoyed of something happened around us and often it would just ruin our mood. Well, I encountered a lot of stuff and events that really turned me off recently. Most of the times are when member of my family asked about my ex. I was like 'why are you guys keep asking about him?'. It's not like I hate him or whatever but that was past times and I'm now happy with the man I'm seeing. I hate it when people keep asking about him. For the fact that I have nothing to do with him anymore, so please stop asking already. SIGH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8TAtZaVqI/AAAAAAAAAkY/1H75PZFw-cY/s1600/header.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 139px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8TAtZaVqI/AAAAAAAAAkY/1H75PZFw-cY/s400/header.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561684967732958882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8TBEU04QI/AAAAAAAAAkg/2LeltZLH2pE/s1600/1%2B%25281%2529.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8TBEU04QI/AAAAAAAAAkg/2LeltZLH2pE/s400/1%2B%25281%2529.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561684973887742210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8TBScETlI/AAAAAAAAAko/La0Ty-WMkIg/s1600/1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8TBScETlI/AAAAAAAAAko/La0Ty-WMkIg/s400/1.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561684977676209746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8TBkjXwSI/AAAAAAAAAkw/ae0kdWzVL-o/s1600/3.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 234px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8TBkjXwSI/AAAAAAAAAkw/ae0kdWzVL-o/s400/3.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561684982538682658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8TB5TXOPI/AAAAAAAAAk4/rIQ1_aw2teQ/s1600/4.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 202px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8TB5TXOPI/AAAAAAAAAk4/rIQ1_aw2teQ/s400/4.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561684988108683506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8T9U0D8bI/AAAAAAAAAlA/-_iw_wm5FUI/s1600/end.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 57px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8T9U0D8bI/AAAAAAAAAlA/-_iw_wm5FUI/s400/end.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561686009105871282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6404459897205030869?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6404459897205030869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6404459897205030869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/01/annoying-shits.html' title='annoying shits'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TS8TAtZaVqI/AAAAAAAAAkY/1H75PZFw-cY/s72-c/header.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-5928348246678472838</id><published>2011-01-06T07:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T08:29:58.759-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So much about 2011</title><content type='html'>A bit late to greet everyone Happy New Year 2011 ! But I sincerely wish everyone out there having their best this year and may everything turns out the way we want it to be. When it comes to new year, we normally get excited of new beginnings, new exciting experience and new stories to be shared with loved ones. Pretty much like everyone, I'm hoping that 2011 will be nice and superb although I already had bad days to begin with in this year. There were fights, lies and sickness along with my celebration of new year. I was pretty sure that this might be a bad sign for me until I realize there are another 360 days to go through until 2012 and I believe they won't be that bad. Let's build the spirit of new year, and do something even better than last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I'll be spending my 2011 with another year attending school, a short-term studies of Mandarin. I'll soon be leaving for Beijing in mid-February after the Chinese New Year and will only be back one year afterwards with the full preparation to enter the working-life. As for now, I'm so much doing nothing. Mom and dad do not seem to be very happy with my long holiday because they got to see me around at the house almost all the time doing nothing and that annoys them. Mom has been pushing me to join some kind of intensive class for preparation before China, while Dad keeps asking me to help him at the office. Well, I'll do both. After the flu, headache and bad cough gone, I'll help Dad at the office and attend an intensive class after office hours. Not a story of interesting summer holiday, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TSXqgCK2JMI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/KpHJfgp0Qtc/s1600/dec2010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TSXqgCK2JMI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/KpHJfgp0Qtc/s400/dec2010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559107151117821122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;celebrating new year's eve with high-school mates (only few of us left in Medan)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also at the mean time, mom and I have been working on the design of our new house. We already had three different designers helping with the construction but mom does not seem to be quite satisfied with the results yet. There were a lot of disagreements that make me doubt the construction will be finished in 2 years. Well, our new house sure is much more spacious than our current residence, and I'll have my own walk-in-closet later on, isn't that just great? Yes to that, I'll post the pictures soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-5928348246678472838?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5928348246678472838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5928348246678472838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2011/01/so-much-about-2011.html' title='So much about 2011'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TSXqgCK2JMI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/KpHJfgp0Qtc/s72-c/dec2010.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3274675100773448578</id><published>2010-12-20T00:20:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T00:44:22.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'>month of the year</title><content type='html'>Hey bloggers, I see it's finally the end of 2010 and who doesn't love December. All the great things are here, school holiday, summer-break, Christmas delight,and New Year Eve. I heard people are not having great time during 2010, well, mine wasn't great too but I love this year. It is the year where my long exhausting university life has finally come to an end. Graduating is one big thing in my life, and I couldn't be any happier of having to finish my degree just on time. Which also means, tougher and more challenging future is waiting out there. I've gotten myself ready though ! So thank you dear God who have helped me through all the hard times and kept me strong. Thank you my parents who obviously supported me all these times, financially, physically and spiritually. Also thank you bf, brothers and all dearest friends out there :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I am now enjoying my long holiday before the new chapter of life which is still a long way to go. Apparently, I cancelled all my application for master degree although I know it is a great chance to lose but I've made a better future plan for myself. I believe the result of going the other way will be much more promising than sitting another 1.5 years in university again (hope this answers those who were asking around why I cancelled my earlier plan). Honestly, I think I might regret this decision one day but screw it, I know my God has a better plan for me. Again, thank you mom and dad for letting me decide where I am heading, although I honestly know they really want to have their children pursuing master degree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I can feel my next chapter of life will be much funner than sitting in university. I'll keep you guys updated ! Until then, take care and have a great December !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3274675100773448578?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3274675100773448578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3274675100773448578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/12/month-of-year.html' title='month of the year'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-4941356626655525640</id><published>2010-11-15T05:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T06:09:05.161-08:00</updated><title type='text'>clear my head off.</title><content type='html'>I'm turning into someone else I don't even know, I lose control over myself and lucky, by the time I realized, it ain't too late yet. Ever since my final exam, I've been pampering myself through shopping and eating. I practically ate like a horse and need to stop before I turned into scary beast, so hello 'empty stomach' ! I won't allow anything get into my mouth after 6pm. That's the deal, well, except the BBQ party tomorrow :) that's gonna be a blast. We had lotsa people coming and lotsa foods on the way, and yes, Le Cordon Bleu chef will be serving us, lol. Talked to mom about my spending pattern and she started to worry that I'm turning into those bimbo girls who are (sorry to say) expert in make up and style but big zero inside the brain. Honestly, I started to worry myself ! *kata orang syndrom kehilangan jati diri*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom then said I should be someone like her, like my dad, like my brothers, because we are one family. That stuff she told me, hit straight to my face, and made me realize, I've been different. I demanded almost everything without giving anything ! I kept complaining how lucky my brother is, he could get new Macbook, new Ipad, new BB, new this and that so easy, but I apparently, forget the fact that he worked hard to make himself deserve all those privileges. He deactivated his facebook for study reason, he made use his time wisely, scored first rank two years straight ever since he landed in Singapore, and yes, I admit it, he deserves what he got.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now compare that to me, I woke up at 11am, watched every new movie coming out in cinemas, had fine dinner almost every week, spend 80% of my allowance on shopping, and I DID NOT WORK HARD TO GET THAT. Screw me, useless creature :( And the worst part is, I just reserved fucking tons of stuff at topshop this evening. Well, I'm not gonna get that anymore, I'll just pick up something necessary. I shall remind myself that everytime I lose control on handling my cash, I should think DO I EVEN NEED THAT? The amount I spent in 15 minutes in one shop equals to my driver's one month salary, now you tell me if my brain still working right. *sigh big time*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is basically what dad told me on phone, "you think I'm proud of you spending that much money and looking good? Girls look good when they're actually beautiful herself, If she's damn fcking ugly, then whatever topshop mango (idk how he knows topshop and mango -.-) WILL NOT HELP. I'll only be proud of you when my only daughter has finally graduated with satisfying result, having proper job and become someone. And now, you're just no one yet, so why don't you just sit back and think of what I've said". Then he hang up. I was like ..... okay, you're so mean, daddy, but you're right. Thanks for reminding me, but you have to know, there are things from me that you should be proud of. I don't have to tell it here, you know that and I know you'll be so goddamn proud of me someday :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-4941356626655525640?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4941356626655525640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4941356626655525640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/11/clear-my-head-off.html' title='clear my head off.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-7507945281185584936</id><published>2010-11-13T05:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-13T05:26:38.932-08:00</updated><title type='text'>stargazing.</title><content type='html'>Happy weekend readers ! How's your week? I finally conquered my exam's tough time and now enjoying my long summer holiday to the fullest. Everything has been so great, having to wake up very very late (as in 11 am), slacking in my room and watching series all day long. Ahh, apparently I haven't got time to enjoy that all since I spend my days looking for graduation flowers, and teddy bears. But now that the graduation ceremony has passed, I should put my total focus on shopping ! I'll let myself spend up to thousands of ringgit for shop this time :p It's kind of my way of pampering myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Booked a ticket flying back home on 24th November yay ! Today has been really great, no kidding. I received an email of my conditional offer letter from University of Queensland, my dreamed university, saying that I'm completely eligible for continuing my master degree there :) And yes, another great thing is now we have an Ipad for family, lol. Basically, my brother scored another 1st rank in his class and 4th in the entire batch so he got to buy everything he wants. He got himself a BB torch and an Ipad for the family, I repeat for the FAMILY (I'm so gonna take over the right of possession, HAHAHA). While I'm gonna get myself Iphone4 soon, real soon. Is that all really happening?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh btw, I'm not saying that I'm going to UQ yet, I decided to take some time to think carefully, without any rush, will that gonna be worth it? I mean all the time, money, hardwork, is that all gonna be paid off when I graduated ? Lemme go back to my cubicle and think that right :) Have a nice weekend guys. Graduation photos will be uploaded by my friend, until that time, please be satisfied with just my writings, kay?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-7507945281185584936?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7507945281185584936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7507945281185584936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/11/stargazing.html' title='stargazing.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-1134907444493342443</id><published>2010-11-05T08:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T08:56:52.645-07:00</updated><title type='text'>smokers never win.</title><content type='html'>This is one big issue where we could take part and make a better living. You guys think smoking is 'okay', or perhaps cool. I myself hate smoke although I did try to be honest, twice and that's all which tasted awful. I have no particular issue dealing with people smoking around me, might sometimes get annoyed with the smell though - and well, I don't plan to die faster than the smoker. But am cool, I don't do judging. The thing is sometimes when we saw random girl smoking, the bad impression might be there, somewhere in your mind although you don't speak it out. I used to think the same few years back then but now that I am here surrounded by smokers all around, what can I say ? Nothing. Not a thing come to my mind, am no one to judge, just that want to let you know, you have better life ahead without one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I encouraged people around me to stop smoking, immediately. To all the people I love, I did my best that they shall give up on it. I did a little &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;google&lt;/span&gt; on smoking and found some interesting facts on it. I am telling you, once again, smoking do no good, it kills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TNQkHSgVr6I/AAAAAAAAAkE/Y4wjxgk_RuM/s1600/113.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TNQkHSgVr6I/AAAAAAAAAkE/Y4wjxgk_RuM/s400/113.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536089549590343586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Smoking facts:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) There are 1.1 billion smokers in the world today, and if current trends continue, that number is expected to increase to 1.6 billion by the year 2025.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) China is home to 300 million smokers who consume approximately 1.7 trillion cigarettes a year, or 3 million cigarettes a minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Worldwide, approximately 10 million cigarettes are purchased a minute, 15 billion are sold each day, and upwards of 5 trillion are produced and used on an annual basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Five trillion cigarette filters weigh approximately 2 billion pounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) It's estimated that trillions of filters, filled with toxic chemicals from tobacco smoke, make their way into our environment as discarded waste yearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) While they may look like white cotton, cigarette filters are made of very thin fibers of a plastic called cellulose acetate. A cigarette filter can take between 18 months and 10 years to decompose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) A typical manufactured cigarette contains approximately 8 or 9 milligrams of nicotine, while the nicotine content of a cigar is 100 to 200 milligrams, with some as high as 400 milligrams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) There is enough nicotine in four or five cigarettes to kill an average adult if ingested whole. Most smokers take in only one or two milligrams of nicotine per cigarette however, with the remainder being burned off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Worldwide, one in five teens age 13 to 15 smoke cigarettes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) Approximately one quarter of the youth alive in the Western Pacific Region (East Asia and the Pacific) today will die from tobacco use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) Half of all long-term smokers will die a tobacco-related death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12) Every eight seconds, a human life is lost to tobacco use somewhere in the world. That translates to approximately 5 million deaths annually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13) Tobacco use is expected to claim one billion lives this century unless serious anti-smoking efforts are made on a global level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TNQkHAQ9kQI/AAAAAAAAAj8/yi_pom1LqxM/s1600/112.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TNQkHAQ9kQI/AAAAAAAAAj8/yi_pom1LqxM/s400/112.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536089544694010114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TNQkGwxRB7I/AAAAAAAAAj0/PaHmb6DDSy4/s1600/111.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TNQkGwxRB7I/AAAAAAAAAj0/PaHmb6DDSy4/s400/111.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536089540534536114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tobacco offers us a life of slavery, a host of chronic, debilitating illnesses and ultimately death. And think about it: We pay big bucks for those "benefits." Sad, but true. So take your life back, my friends !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;If you're a smoker wishing you could quit, make your mind up to dig your heels in and do the work necessary to get this monkey off your back now. You'll never regret it.&lt;/span&gt; Be bless :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps. I didn't google the photos above, it was somewhere in my folders and I just checked them out. I got them from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;kaskus.us&lt;/span&gt; last year if I'm not mistaken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-1134907444493342443?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1134907444493342443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1134907444493342443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/11/smokers-never-win.html' title='smokers never win.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TNQkHSgVr6I/AAAAAAAAAkE/Y4wjxgk_RuM/s72-c/113.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-1369350170338952021</id><published>2010-11-04T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T08:24:48.545-07:00</updated><title type='text'>holding on :)</title><content type='html'>I bet everyone around are having their exam period just like me. I remembered I always spare some time to write a motivational post to myself and everyone else during each and every exam period. Well, I didn't have the chance to do so this sems since my timetable is pretty squeezed up and I need to catch up before it's too late. I still have one more paper if it still counts :) Good luck people ! My last paper will be Auditing on Wednesday and that would be the last paper ever for me in Monash. All I gotta do is wait until 3rd of Dec when exam result is released and there we go ! I'll tell you my plan after that, big one ! Take a deep breath, it's something exciting I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not as what I promised in my last post, I won't upload any photos just yet since I haven't taken one for quite some time but in exchange of that, here is a video I love so much that I could die. Initially found it on facebook from one of my friend, unfortunately, the video was then locked for some reason. I can't even access it through its official website, it needs some sort of code to watch. So one day I was chatting with my old room mate and she sent me a link of a website where I could download any facebook video and here it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="364" height="300" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-b2be936a0567b68e" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v19.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db2be936a0567b68e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331449397%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D72A2AF4579FDE640B90F1A55941E48BA0CE84FC0.14511BB594314A3696326DDBA399C604DED03244%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db2be936a0567b68e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DLgVRMvskDBDpKBv1AlGK7I7sAKc&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="364" height="300" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v19.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db2be936a0567b68e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331449397%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D72A2AF4579FDE640B90F1A55941E48BA0CE84FC0.14511BB594314A3696326DDBA399C604DED03244%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db2be936a0567b68e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DLgVRMvskDBDpKBv1AlGK7I7sAKc&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously the quality is very lame but whatever ! If you understand mandarin then you'll get my idea, the vows are insanely sweet and even better, the bride is way too pretty. I'm not sure if you guys could read the subtitle down there, I'll try to find the original copy and post up the link if possible so at the mean time, just enjoy what I got for you. Ahh last comment, the setting was in Bali ! Paradise in everyone's heart :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-1369350170338952021?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1369350170338952021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1369350170338952021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/11/holding-on.html' title='holding on :)'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2811630569489746879</id><published>2010-10-17T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T10:21:41.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>October '10</title><content type='html'>I know I haven't posted anything this month and sorry about that. So in order to make that up, I'm right here typing this post in the middle of late night with heavy sleepy eyes. Nothing much happened, just you know small things and routines. It bores me here. Feels like moving out to elsewhere, anywhere would be good. AH ! I always had Gold Coast in mind, like ever since my high school time. Nope, I've never been there but I heard a lot from friends and websites. Apparently, bachelor study is going to end very soon and I've been planning on all these master programs which are not final yet. I might or might not be going for 'master degree' but I would really like to go ! And as you know, I'm trying to find one good university near Gold Coast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds so ridiculous huh? Dad even asked me whether am going to study or holiday. Well, ended up I found one. Pretty good one actually, it's University of Queensland. Without a doubt, it's the third best university in Australia and is one of top 50 universities in the world. I always had my eye on this university ever since I checked them on line. Unfortunately, I might not be able to attend UQ :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silly reason. I believed I fulfilled their entry requirements and everything. It's just you know, they had this kinda stupid policy whereby students are not allowed to take specialization that has already been taken in their undergraduate studies. Meaning that I wouldn't be able to major in finance for master since I'm doing both finance and accounting already in my bachelor degree. Nah, am not gonna do other major, not accounting, not IB, not econs, nothing but finance. All this time I found myself enjoying finance subjects and have interest to study more about it but other subject?? I don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all, everything is not final yet. I still have other options, UK and US sounds pretty good but the idea that I'll be staying in the other part of the world is kinda creepy. So I guess I gotta think all over again and yeah, hope it's not to late for 2011 enrolment. Wish me luck :D for my final exams too !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I realized I haven't posted up photos for such long time. I will in my next post, okay? Have a nice day people :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2811630569489746879?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2811630569489746879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2811630569489746879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/10/october-10.html' title='October &apos;10'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6791638664908880608</id><published>2010-09-27T04:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T05:14:27.925-07:00</updated><title type='text'>matter of time.</title><content type='html'>Guys, am terribly sorry for lack of updates. Kinda busy enjoying my mid-semester break ! Time flies, it's just a month away to my final exam. Timetable is pretty good..28 oct, 29 oct, 4 nov and 10 nov ! I know I should start revising, but I just couldn't help the joy of being free from uni life for a week. Been spending so much money these few days and guess what? it's just the beginning of mid-break... sigh :( May I remind you this post is gonna be a lil bit dry, am not in the mood of writing anw. I'll just write random few things that come to my mind, alright?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, in order to put off some weights, i'm planning to avoid soft drinks for the rest of my life. Don't laugh yet ! am serious. I was about to stop having fast food like McD and his friends, but bf laughed and said 'talk to the hand'. So let's make it more realistic, soft drinks seem like possible ! Well, am not a big fan of soft drinks though so must be no problem. I'd really like to start consuming healthier food, but I don't think it would be possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing is about this whole 'moving-on' things face by one of my best friends. She's kind of stuck upon her ex and being stupid all the time, lol. I've been telling her, "stop thinking about him" like 1000000 times, and she won't listen. Well, I always believe that 'moving-on' might be difficult to certain people but it's not impossible. I was once in a relationship for 6 years with a very very nice man, I should say. Everything was so perfect, friends were jealous with our relationship but I turned him down. Things changed, and so we experienced what so called "post-break-up" problems. Mom and dad forced me to patch back, friends were like 'it has been 6 years, dear. you should give it another chance'. It was so horrible that time that I could hardly concentrate on other things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know at that time, that one day I might be regret, leaving such a great man. But you know, life goes on. And I made a choice, no way am going back there. No solid reasons could make me stay. I believe there's still a long way to go, I could make another story happens, so why stuck in some fairy tales? Truth be told, I always think that there's no way am gonna find someone like him. Lucky, am that 'don't care too much' kind of person. By now, I can proudly tell I found a better someone. And that would be the last thing I could ever wish for. Trust me, 'moving-on' is a start to new things. It might be better or worse, just go through it and believe in whatever God designed for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Monday ! Loves :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6791638664908880608?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6791638664908880608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6791638664908880608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/09/matter-of-time.html' title='matter of time.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3448611031168773</id><published>2010-09-04T07:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T09:14:11.965-07:00</updated><title type='text'>an easy way to be happy.</title><content type='html'>Happy Saturday first of all guys :) Well, am sorry to all of you following my twitter if you happened to read some of my harsh tweets. Obviously, I don't think there's a need to clarify all these but I just feel like doing so. Starting from Friday, it has been hectic since morning. Woke up in the morning finding my boyfriend is miles away having fun by the beach. At the same time, I have lotsa replacement classes to attend, plus days were mad hot ! Also at the moment, I've been spending whole days thinking of perfect gift for bf birthday and still couldn't find one. How sucks was my day? Wait for it, it's not that bad until I received thousand of phone calls, messages, and voicemails. Turned out certain people are in some serious trouble and only God knows why, those people come find me as if I'm part of the trouble. Enough with those pressures, I was then innocently complain in twitter on why people messing up on Friday, which I think it should be a beginning of nice weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, that simple tweet raised some misunderstandings and turned out so bad, terribly bad. And there goes people responding to my tweet, some were with me, thinking that Friday shouldn't be a mess, some were offended by my last tweet because he/she is apparently in that trouble itself. I called to personally say sorry if my last tweet has offended him/her. Unfortunately, it turned out the same, nothing is solved. Disregard of whether it is my fault or not, I have put my ego down to say sorry and I think that count for something. But if my apology is not accepted, and this misunderstanding has to go on then let it be. At least I've put my effort to explain and I have nothing to lose. People know I can be a bitch, I could says those harsh words and curses anytime I want but I just choose not to, isn't it just so last year?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, thank God I am a 'happy-go-lucky' type of person so I choose to put all those behind and now good news ! Bf is coming back tonight, mom and brothers are coming for visit tomorrow, dad is coming the next day after that and we're all going to have some fun. I learned that sometimes we just need to be selfish, why bother how other feels when they don't give a shit on how you feel. True? Instead of looking so pathetic, I choose to take it easy, remains untroubled and relaxed. If by the end of the day, we all choose to let go the misunderstanding and be friend, I'll be pleased to do so. But if not, then I afraid my apology earlier would be such a waste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay now ! On the bright side, I can see so many people out there that actually care for me. I used to tell everything to bf, only bf. But now that he's not here, I found another ears that listen, shoulders that comfort, and hearts that care :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3448611031168773?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3448611031168773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3448611031168773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/09/easy-way-to-be-happy.html' title='an easy way to be happy.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-203293799589385015</id><published>2010-08-31T22:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T23:05:19.192-07:00</updated><title type='text'>31st of August</title><content type='html'>It is no ordinary 31st, no ordinary August, it's the independence day of Malaysia. Well, it's not like I care actually. Malaysia itself is not my country, I just happen to be stranded to this 'neighbour' of my home country for education reason. I know lots of you think that having my ass landed in this country to pursue further education is not the right choice. To be honest, I am no fans of Malaysia. It does not offer safety at the first place. Like most of you, I also thought that Malaysia is lame, too near to our home town, does not offer anything extraordinary, no fun, no life, and boring. But believe it or not, I experienced and learnt the most of everything in here. You can't find friendly staff in Singapore, Medan, Australia or any other western countries. You don't get to feel the shopping paradise in elsewhere. Try Singapore, I bet we offer you same quality of goods with lower price. How does that sound? Okay, I'm not here to promote this country so I may as well stop here. But before you judge Malaysia, try stay here and then you talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from what I just said, may I remind you Malaysia is so not safe ! I don't get it why they &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;ALWAYS&lt;/span&gt; steal, rob, snatch, or kill when Hari Raya is coming. I honestly think if you happen to be poor, no money to buy new dress or whatsoever, you should have worked harder then. Thief is not a job, not a profession. sigh. I don't feel like talking about those shallow people or else I'll get myself out of control and cursed them to death. You guys get lost and go to hell, brainless moron -.-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After rambling so much, now I have to mood to continue this post. Such a distraction, I was about to tell you my plan for holidays. Perhaps I'll save that for next post. Have a nice day :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-203293799589385015?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/203293799589385015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/203293799589385015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/08/31st-of-august.html' title='31st of August'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-4304296099998413340</id><published>2010-08-24T08:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T08:21:32.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'>katy perry - teenage dream</title><content type='html'>nice video, nice music, nice lyrics, and stunning katy. just right completing my night :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425px" height="360px" &gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"/&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=106181541,t=1,mt=video"/&gt;&lt;embed src="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=106181541,t=1,mt=video" width="425" height="360" allowFullScreen="true" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&amp;friendid=14157218" style="font: Verdana"&gt;Katy Perry&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a href="http://music.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=videos" style="font: Verdana"&gt;MySpace Music Videos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-4304296099998413340?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4304296099998413340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4304296099998413340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/08/teenage-dream-katy-perry-myspace-music.html' title='katy perry - teenage dream'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-7872699711357921696</id><published>2010-08-23T04:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T05:20:08.271-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't know how to spell "Mounday"</title><content type='html'>Could hardly focus on my study, I seriously need a motivation! It is week 6 of my last semester already, and I am obviously required to put a lot of work this semester. Yet, It's still the same old me who would normally slack till week 11 something then start to rush and panic. Well, I am working on it, seriously. So there are these two assignments I need to complete and submit on Wednesday and Thursday. It's Monday now and I haven't done even one of it, not even 50%. You know, I kinda bring back the mood of holiday from my last weekend. Speaking of that, I regretfully announce that I have no photo to be uploaded at this moment since my mom took the memory card with her. Err, next month perhaps?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like everyone else, I went to Universal Studio Singapore. I can tell 80% of the visitors are Indonesian. Typical rich Jakarta city family who spent their every weekends abroad for shopping or whatsoever. Anyway, the USS isn't as nice as I imagine, it was pretty small and has less to offer compared to those in other countries. It is obviously much smaller that those in Florida and Japan. Took one short round inside and I already came back to the main entrance, and gasped "Ahh, is that all??". After all, it still worth to go for a short holiday :) And yes, it would be best if you stay in Festive Hotel or Hard Rock Hotel next to Sentosa and USS. Their hotel rooms rock. Trust me !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the one and only photo left with me, taken with my brother's mac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/THJlf2JfKYI/AAAAAAAAAjk/GRR1AGW0htw/s1600/aaaaaa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/THJlf2JfKYI/AAAAAAAAAjk/GRR1AGW0htw/s400/aaaaaa.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508576892013193602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Used photoshop to combine those 4 pictures into 1, and tried edit the color a bit. Does it look okay or failed? Anw, I guess I need to get back to work, have a nice day everyone :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-7872699711357921696?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7872699711357921696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7872699711357921696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-dont-know-how-to-spell-mounday.html' title='I don&apos;t know how to spell &quot;Mounday&quot;'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/THJlf2JfKYI/AAAAAAAAAjk/GRR1AGW0htw/s72-c/aaaaaa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8636669269769803938</id><published>2010-08-11T04:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T04:55:28.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>choices</title><content type='html'>You might not always ask for the advice you're given, but some of it’s certainly worth listening to. Here are just a few words of wisdom that I live by:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-It doesn't matter if you fail as long as you've tried your best.&lt;br /&gt;-When a person shows you who they are, believe them the first time.&lt;br /&gt;-Never settle for less than what truly makes you happy.&lt;br /&gt;-Don't stress the small stuff.&lt;br /&gt;-Eat dessert first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8636669269769803938?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8636669269769803938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8636669269769803938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/08/choices.html' title='choices'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2266390420000883780</id><published>2010-08-07T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T11:35:43.011-07:00</updated><title type='text'>black on both sides.</title><content type='html'>Been busy doing my assignment for upcoming Wednesday, and believe it or not, I haven't rest my mind even for a minute since noon. If you're wondering why suddenly I transformed into a diligent bitch, well, I have to. I have to finish at least two of my assignments this week so that I could meet my family up in Singapore by this weekend. How does that sound to you ? Holiday in between the hectic weeks, yay right ?? Okay, so let's wish I could finish up all these. It's not easy, I tell you, dealing with figures and theories at the same time. What the hell with AASB, frameworks, journal entries, financial statements. Ohh, eat that shit ! This is also an absolute and definite reason why I prefer finance to accounting. And if I ever got the chance to work as an accountant, I'll screw that job. I have had enough, really. Yet anyway anyhow, people said when you put your heart in doing something, you'd get the best result out of it. So let's love accounting and roll it way down the street (for the sake of graduating) :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yeah, you guys must have noticed that I changed the whole layout of my blog. I actually picked one of those templates provided by blogger and modified a bit. It's my first trial doing my own header, which is why I keep it simple. Unfortunately, I have no 'adobe photoshop' installed on my laptop and that made me need a lil more extra work. I'd do another &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;better and nicer&lt;/span&gt; header later perhaps, if I have a photoshop and the skill to use it, obviously. Finally, a brand new title to my blog, "&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;A mile in my shoes&lt;/span&gt;", chosen to represent so much of my writings. Simply means, you should try to understand someone before criticising them. Isn't that so true ?? So you guys are all welcomed to visit my page, but thousand pleases, don't judge and misuse it in whatever ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's all it for tonight. I guess tomorrow gonna be another long day with paperwork, good night you all. Have a nice weekend ♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2266390420000883780?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2266390420000883780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2266390420000883780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/08/black-on-both-sides.html' title='black on both sides.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-5679590645216285730</id><published>2010-08-06T09:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T10:06:24.009-07:00</updated><title type='text'>yellow snow.</title><content type='html'>Life isn't about keeping score. It's not about how many people call you, and it's not about who you've dated, are dating, or haven't dated at all. It isn't about who you kissed, what sport you play, or which guy or girl likes you. It's not about your shoes or your hair or the colour of your skin or where you live or go to school. In fact, it's not about grades, money, clothes, or colleges that accept you or not. Life isn't about if you have lots of friends, or if you are alone, and it's not about how accepted or unaccepted you are. Life just isn't about that. But life is about who you love, who you hurt. It's about how you feel about yourself. It's about trust, happiness, and compassion. It's about sticking up for your friends and replacing inner hate with love one else's in a way that could never have been achieved otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TFxA8EispwI/AAAAAAAAAjc/QoD6sts6epM/s1600/221.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 324px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TFxA8EispwI/AAAAAAAAAjc/QoD6sts6epM/s400/221.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502344245495506690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TFxA7niCu_I/AAAAAAAAAjU/tWqlU3Yc-Jo/s1600/112.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TFxA7niCu_I/AAAAAAAAAjU/tWqlU3Yc-Jo/s400/112.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502344237708131314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-5679590645216285730?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5679590645216285730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5679590645216285730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/08/yellow-snow.html' title='yellow snow.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TFxA8EispwI/AAAAAAAAAjc/QoD6sts6epM/s72-c/221.gif' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-5782217571969834233</id><published>2010-08-05T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T09:58:17.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>before forever ends.</title><content type='html'>As long as my memory will faithfully serve, countless people have come and gone to touch my short life. I have said hello and goodbye to; waved and smiled at; shook hands and ate dinner with; too many people yet unbelievably, I still remember each and every one of their names and faces because each has giving me a moment in time. What I can not recollect as well are the abundant memories that once preoccupied all of my thoughts and dreams during those treasured days. Some of these people have made me very happy, some have even made me feel on top of the world; however, others have made me very angry, some have even made me feel down right sad. Specifically, these people have brought to me some of the greatest joys and pains, emotions that pertain to winning and the losing, giving and then receiving, but most importantly loving (unconditionally).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I occasionally sneak a peek back in time, close my eyes, drift and live a pleasant thought for a moment. Although I will always remember names and faces of certain people, occasionally I forget, regretfully, some of the memories I cherished with certain people. Help me not doubt that a friendship or relationship in real life is the most meaningful and most valuable treasure in the world. If nothing lasts forever, at least let me believe that during the limited time before forever ends, a true friendship or relationship can withstand the trials of time and last forever, and ever before forever ends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-5782217571969834233?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5782217571969834233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5782217571969834233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/08/so-it-is.html' title='before forever ends.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-4382319517223654041</id><published>2010-07-23T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-23T20:33:14.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the last semester starts.</title><content type='html'>Hi guys, sorry for not updating regularly. Holidays are over, and I had my ass back in KL to complete my last semester and finally graduate soon with "BBusComm" behind my name. If I managed to pass all my subjects, which I have quite confidence on it, I'll be then graduated by March 2011. Any plans after that is still under consideration, haven't made up my mind to either pursue further education in China or go for master degree instead. So, the schedule this sems is pretty hectic, with all killing subjects set together, I'm so gonna die. Seemingly, am enrolled in &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;auditing, accounting theory, financial accounting issues and international financial management&lt;/span&gt;. I heard the last one is quite easy, but the rest of it could anytime cause you a mental breakdown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom was here few days ago, accompanied me fly back to KL, cleaned up my room, and even shopped for me :) It was so nice if mom could just stay with me here, she bought me another Burberry, Louis Vuittons, and Braun Buffel. Tell me, how could my life can be any happier? Well, to those who asked, the Louis Vuitton wallet is fake, but the bag is original. lol. I initially bought the original wallet for RM 2700 (+/- 7.5 million Indonesian rupiah). Then mom and I walked around KLCC and found this Indian guy selling exactly the same wallet only RM 100. Apart from the idea that it's fake, you can hardly recognize it in a blink and merely by touching it. Even all the compartments inside are soooo similar. I was like 'wtf?' then a bit disappointed and down. So the next day mom and I decided to buy the fake wallet and changed the original one to bag. So that is how I got a fake Louis Vuitton wallet and an original bag of it, lol. In just one day, I had 5 people asking me whether it's fake or original, hahaha. Trust me, it's fake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TEpeLcohWhI/AAAAAAAAAiY/cRh2Reya5rA/s1600/IMG01216-20100719-1350.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TEpeLcohWhI/AAAAAAAAAiY/cRh2Reya5rA/s400/IMG01216-20100719-1350.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497309845916834322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TEpeLOjrf2I/AAAAAAAAAiQ/14d_SnJUlJw/s1600/IMG01212-20100718-2101.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TEpeLOjrf2I/AAAAAAAAAiQ/14d_SnJUlJw/s400/IMG01212-20100718-2101.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497309842138431330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anw, I'd like to apologize for my last post. I can hardly control myself when I was mad, madly mad, you know. Like someone pissed you off and you just 'boom' ! I don't feel like clarifying anything at the mean time, but perhaps I will in the future. The only thing I could say is people deserve chances, and so do him. Then happy weekend guys !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-4382319517223654041?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4382319517223654041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4382319517223654041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/07/last-semester-starts.html' title='the last semester starts.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TEpeLcohWhI/AAAAAAAAAiY/cRh2Reya5rA/s72-c/IMG01216-20100719-1350.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8322391884096334261</id><published>2010-07-09T08:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T08:40:23.884-07:00</updated><title type='text'>100th post</title><content type='html'>Can't believe my 100th post should be filled with unhappiness. Let's be very honest here, I hate liar. Lies are something I can't tolerate and when people lies, I believe they have their own reason, and we should somehow understand the position of liar. But to me, once liar, always liar. Swear to me and God that you gonna learnt from mistakes and stop lying, I replied "go fuck yourself". And the worst part from you is that you never know how to say sorry, how to feel regret, and how to ask for forgiveness. you're way too self-centered, too selfish and too arrogant. So I think perhaps this gonna be a perfect time to let go, I wanna care no more, I wanna hurt no more, I wanna hear lies no more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have never been this disappointed, honestly. To whom this post is referred, may you be forgiven by God and karma. May you have the chance to correct yourself before it's too late. This heart gonna aches no more, I believe we both suffer enough from your lies. And if you gonna keep the lies up, go ahead. You big bastard please stay away from me. Fuck !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8322391884096334261?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8322391884096334261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8322391884096334261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/07/100th-post.html' title='100th post'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-694878297532860232</id><published>2010-07-06T11:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T11:46:03.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>mobile post</title><content type='html'>It's late at night and am wide awake, waiting for the world cup semifinal match. Plan to wake my brother up then watch together, yet I end up have no mood to drag myself watch the match and choose to sleep instead. Days have been quite tiring and I need a good sleep urgently ! Went to nursing home this noon. It has always been the same, everytime I came back for holiday, dad would spend one day bring me to visit the old people. I like it that way, giving more attention to them but there's always something uneasy inside me everytime I visit there. Wish they have a better care and attention yet I can't help a thing :( &lt;br /&gt;Anw, enough for that. I really need a sleep now. Good luck for ur exam tomorrow dear.&lt;br /&gt;Loves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-694878297532860232?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/694878297532860232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/694878297532860232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/07/mobile-post.html' title='mobile post'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-1720765636080775244</id><published>2010-07-04T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-05T00:07:19.957-07:00</updated><title type='text'>after one long weekend.</title><content type='html'>Ever since I had my feet stepped on Medan, never a day I spent without hanging out. The hectic week has finally bring me to the limit and I need to get my body a rest. Two consecutive days were spent with parents on movie, shop and food. Next day was cousins' catching up session after 5 long months. And the rest of the week with high school mates on trip to Brastagi for 3 days and 2 nights. Well, I should say that was so much entertaining and blast ! Holiday is another 2 weeks to go and finally my last semester begins. On the fact that I'd graduate soon this year give me a thrill and excitement yet nervous. Let's talk about the new semester some other time, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So err, the trip I mentioned earlier turned out quite fun after all, there were only eight of us to keep the trip private and solid, 3 boys and 5 girls. Photos were taken and after several trial, we finally captured great pictures. Most of the pictures gonna be uploaded in facebook by Alvin, leaving some other pictures taken by pocket camera of mine, here : (sorted out the 'acceptable' photos only)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;At Alvin's Villa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TDGB4PKab6I/AAAAAAAAAiI/tmPEvw68jVY/s1600/P1010294.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TDGB4PKab6I/AAAAAAAAAiI/tmPEvw68jVY/s400/P1010294.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490312223884210082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the girls (me-ching-shindy-ivonny)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TDGB3se4dbI/AAAAAAAAAiA/UCvsIAVGs7w/s1600/P1010301.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TDGB3se4dbI/AAAAAAAAAiA/UCvsIAVGs7w/s400/P1010301.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490312214574822834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TDGB3OZpAmI/AAAAAAAAAh4/bJQ4bK-peQM/s1600/P1010271.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TDGB3OZpAmI/AAAAAAAAAh4/bJQ4bK-peQM/s400/P1010271.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490312206499775074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TDGB2mh0q3I/AAAAAAAAAhw/tpLJELdTGv0/s1600/P1010306.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TDGB2mh0q3I/AAAAAAAAAhw/tpLJELdTGv0/s400/P1010306.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490312195796675442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eight of us (alvin-jeniffer-ching-me-shindy-aguan-ajo-ivonny)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TDGB2PC1RuI/AAAAAAAAAho/8go_OdN6d0A/s1600/P1010322.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TDGB2PC1RuI/AAAAAAAAAho/8go_OdN6d0A/s400/P1010322.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490312189492676322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow will be a visit to 'nursing home' with mom, dad and some relatives. Daddy's routine each year ! see ya guys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-1720765636080775244?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1720765636080775244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1720765636080775244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/07/after-one-long-weekend.html' title='after one long weekend.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TDGB4PKab6I/AAAAAAAAAiI/tmPEvw68jVY/s72-c/P1010294.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2642756057450244421</id><published>2010-06-29T09:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-29T09:31:53.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hey sugar rush !</title><content type='html'>Been back in Indonesia for 2 days and life has been good. so good indeed ! Schedule is full at least until next week, spent some time with friends, cousins, families and other friends again. Back to home town means back to be daddy's lil girl. Lucky, am the only daughter he has and thanks God for how he loves me to bits. Was joking to ask him buying me a new diamond ring to replace my old one which I lost it somewhere couple months ago, and he was like, "okay, just don't lose it again." hahahaha, love ya dad. No, not because you bought me another ring. I love you with or without diamond rings. I love you with or without all the material and financial support. You have always been the best to me regardless how people see you. You have always been the best to me and brothers. And for everything you've given to me, I promise to double it for you, promise you a happy, peaceful and best old days that a daughter could ever give :) same thing goes to you mom. This daughter is gonna make you proud, make you held your head high and shed tears of happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I attended a friend's brother wedding party last Sunday, soon after I landed in Medan, and met couple of old friends. It was fun, relaxing and nice to have them around. Here are some pictures taken by Kervin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCofEnXdeBI/AAAAAAAAAhg/lrCHxshx-70/s1600/4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCofEnXdeBI/AAAAAAAAAhg/lrCHxshx-70/s400/4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488233260051691538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCofEDblYHI/AAAAAAAAAhY/te_DlhtDihc/s1600/3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCofEDblYHI/AAAAAAAAAhY/te_DlhtDihc/s400/3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488233250405310578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCofDwy6SVI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/88SV3GT7lCU/s1600/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCofDwy6SVI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/88SV3GT7lCU/s400/2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488233245402876242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCofDYbw23I/AAAAAAAAAhI/hgPOCPa8Yr0/s1600/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCofDYbw23I/AAAAAAAAAhI/hgPOCPa8Yr0/s400/1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488233238863338354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plan for a trip to Brastagi this coming Friday minus Kervin and gf, hope it'd be fun and let's take some nice pictures. Happy holiday everyone !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2642756057450244421?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2642756057450244421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2642756057450244421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/06/hey-sugar-rush.html' title='hey sugar rush !'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCofEnXdeBI/AAAAAAAAAhg/lrCHxshx-70/s72-c/4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-1577889364229248485</id><published>2010-06-26T06:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T06:50:18.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'>blowing wish.</title><content type='html'>Finished my exams yesterday and am so thrilled to see my mom and dad just few hours to go. By this time tomorrow, I'll be sitting with mom, dad, granny and brother having a great chat that I've missed so much. I've done nothing much since the exams end, just went watch 'karate kid' with some friends, went shopping with another friend and had superb dine with bf. Ohh life's so great without exams !! I've also spent hours on youtube, watching the british got talent which I've watched like zillion times. It's a complete happiness to me watching how this world full of people like them. Not to mention, I can't stop crying 'everytime' I watch Susan Boyle. Everytime so far means like 20 or more, am such a mess huh? How I wish I could watch another talent like her popping out in our tv line, internet, or radio. The great thing about those stars is how they stood there on the stage, performing, without knowing how great they are and it made me feels 'wow'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is how everyone should be. It'll be so great how people got the looks, the brain, and money yet keep themselves humble. Let's take it as a reminder, a wake up call that you have no need to show off for what you have. No matter how smart you are, how genius you are, it's completely nothing to me if you got no attitude. Well, I happened to know someone who thinks he/she is a genius, and can't shut his/her fucking mouth on how he/she managed to nailed Monash and bla bla bla. That is sickening, trust me ! Ohh yeah, this fellow also can't stop showing off his/her parents wealth which I DOUBT IT !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Same thing goes to those good looking guys or girls. You just need to know that you look way way way much more beautiful or handsome when you have some attitude, please. It's no way in hell that you're the most beautiful or handsome in this earth, so please spare me your bitchy manner. Okay, so here's the thing ! Am not saying that am perfect, that I'm none like them. Most probably, I behave just like those monkeys without my acknowledgement but trust me, I am way better and am working on myself to be a better person. Well..to be fair, perhaps I don't even have a 10% of their looks, their brain or money which makes me have nothing to proud of. So let's just stop being so judgemental here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I really need to start packing. So see you again soon, real soon if I have time to blog back in my hometown :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-1577889364229248485?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1577889364229248485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/1577889364229248485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/06/blowing-wish.html' title='blowing wish.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3068273902853887774</id><published>2010-06-22T06:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T06:38:08.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>jokers.</title><content type='html'>Can't believe I screwed up my IBF paper this morning. Trust me, I've prepared and studied like hell damn lot of stuff but it didn't turn out quiet well. Should have spent more days reading it, sigh. I read the whole things in just 2 days ! exactly 2 days, not more or less. Let's admit it, we all thought this paper gonna be easy, gonna be 'not-killing', and we were all wrong about that. Anyhow, I have the confident on passing this subject, amen. It's just "good-bye, HD, hope to see you again in future". and "welcome you, P. nice to meet you (NOT THAT NICE ACTUALLY)". or "hello again, C, has been quite a while huh?". Ahh, well..it happened. If I can't score HD or D, C or P will do in this case, just don't failed me please. PLEASE !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, another paper to go, Malaysian Income Tax Law. I knowwww, shit right?? I, myself didn't know why the hell should I study the MALAYSIAN TAX LAW, but it's a compulsory subject for my 'professional accounting' studies. And leaving me with no choice, here I am with the most shitty subject ever. Wish me luck pls :) And as soon as this paper is over, they'll call me freedom, just like a waving flag *stealing the WC South Africa 2010 theme song line*. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCC8BSoFLvI/AAAAAAAAAhA/QhwA-ynQv8Y/s1600/a1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 355px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCC8BSoFLvI/AAAAAAAAAhA/QhwA-ynQv8Y/s400/a1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485591076503105266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCC8BPU7LaI/AAAAAAAAAg4/iBL1E2BRzRg/s1600/21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 355px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCC8BPU7LaI/AAAAAAAAAg4/iBL1E2BRzRg/s400/21.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485591075617451426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spongebob and Patrick ♥. SEE YOU THEN WHEN FRIDAY ENDS, loves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3068273902853887774?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3068273902853887774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3068273902853887774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/06/jokers.html' title='jokers.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TCC8BSoFLvI/AAAAAAAAAhA/QhwA-ynQv8Y/s72-c/a1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-518936483289821998</id><published>2010-06-15T06:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T07:04:12.791-07:00</updated><title type='text'>15 june.</title><content type='html'>Just done my first paper this noon and it turned out pretty easy, well, the questions was in my expectation and quite straight forward. Should say D or HD is safe here, hopefully. But it also depends on the marker, if he/she is lenient enough then HD should be no problem, lol. Ahhh one paper down ! And my second paper is a killer, like the 'impossible-to-score' paper. Let's just wish for the best and have a lil faith ! Will sit for the paper this friday, meaning another 2 days left -.- damnnnn !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good news is am goin back to Medan on 27th, 2 days after my last paper. Yayyyy, just another week to granny, mom, dad and brother :) and foods ! Err, gotta go back studying, wish me luck :p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-518936483289821998?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/518936483289821998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/518936483289821998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/06/15-june.html' title='15 june.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-7287711428510547185</id><published>2010-06-11T23:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T23:23:47.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>timing</title><content type='html'>Hey ya people ! been busy with your exams huh? well, same thing here with me. errr, wasn't exactly preparing for my exam these days. more like bringing my books, notes and other stuff here and there, sit for hours but none get into my head, seriously. I really need some effective study ! Gonna sit for my first paper this Tuesday, and i'm far from well-prepared. anyhow, just wish me the best luck kay? So I can graduate this year soon :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And same goes to you guys, good luck ! have fun studying :) lil cute comic strip for you. I got this from some cool site, but I can't remember. sooooo..see you when exams end !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TBMnbH_i0UI/AAAAAAAAAgw/xFbdX51AS4s/s1600/xx.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 233px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TBMnbH_i0UI/AAAAAAAAAgw/xFbdX51AS4s/s400/xx.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481768518395547970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-7287711428510547185?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7287711428510547185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/7287711428510547185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/06/perfect-timing.html' title='timing'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TBMnbH_i0UI/AAAAAAAAAgw/xFbdX51AS4s/s72-c/xx.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-9132570691158291047</id><published>2010-06-05T09:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T09:56:09.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>haunting week.</title><content type='html'>The exam weeks is here again ! Just did my revision hours ago, fell asleep couple of times, but managed to finish 6 chapters of investment. ohh how I hate studying ! My first paper is just another week to go and I need to be completely prepared, mentally and spiritually. Let's get another HD and please not C. Or N, never. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I had this serious problem to stay focus, the moment I start studying, I'll start distract myself with facebook, blackberry, and games. I guess what I got to do is:&lt;br /&gt;1) shut down the pc, turn off the blackberry and put away all other distracting stuff out of my sight.&lt;br /&gt;2) get out from my room and study at living room instead, to prevent myself from sneaking into blanket and wasted another 2 hours for sleep &lt;br /&gt;3) try not to push myself too hard. Once I finish some chapters, I'll go watch series or go yam cha.&lt;br /&gt;And voila, it works. Less stressed up and more chapters covered :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of exam, it makes me somehow miss mom and dad who used to nag me to the point of insanity just to make me study weeks prior my exam, and I won't listen. But soon they stop nagging, I'll get so panic and start battling with notes. And those moments when my brothers and I all sitting together, facing each other on a round table and study til midnight. As now three of us are all separated by countries, I only get to see them once or twice a year. 3 weeks more and I'll get to see them, let's kill the exam and fight !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-9132570691158291047?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/9132570691158291047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/9132570691158291047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/06/point-of-no-return.html' title='haunting week.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6849594146873664282</id><published>2010-05-25T09:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T09:58:40.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fight, beat, and win.</title><content type='html'>Getting so fed up with the internet connection these recent days, I can't access my 'blackboard', facebook, twitter, and even google articles for assignment. But well,  I've been trying so hard to refresh the page like zillion times just to make sure I could post up this entry *big time*. So, it's finally come to the end of the semester, one more assignment and EXAMS ! You know what? I think I really need to work hard this sems. It appears that I didn't really understand what the crap has been happening this whole 11 weeks. I recalled the first time I came to Monash and officially enrolled as their student, I was so happy that I could die. I can't remember what the heck I was thinking that time, but it turned out that I'm Monash's &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;'accounting and banking finance&lt;/span&gt;' student. Risking myself taking such killing major was really STUPID, I should say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first semester didn't go quite well, I could barely understand each things the lecture taught. while most of my friends seemed quite get along with the subjects. I got so frustated about all the 'economic and finance' thingy which obviously I've never been taught of since I was a 'science' student back then. I almost give up to everything, to the challenges, to the difficulties and pressures. But then I think, maybe I just need to work harder, work like a smart. So here I am, not gifted with genius brain nor born as a talented bitch, I managed to push myself to work harder, try harder, and achieve more. I survived ! at least to my fifth semester now, without any big deal so far. What I need to do now is to do the same or even better and win the game. I know I will, I hope so :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To everyone facing their exams soon, best luck for you ! and so here another simple edited photo I did. good night :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TAFLvyIUlhI/AAAAAAAAAgg/a-L9P6EPA68/s1600/jg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TAFLvyIUlhI/AAAAAAAAAgg/a-L9P6EPA68/s320/jg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476741906141845010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6849594146873664282?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6849594146873664282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6849594146873664282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/05/fight-beat-and-win.html' title='fight, beat, and win.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/TAFLvyIUlhI/AAAAAAAAAgg/a-L9P6EPA68/s72-c/jg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-2380184977860002304</id><published>2010-05-16T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T11:41:25.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>going-to-sleep-after-this-post</title><content type='html'>I bet people are all on bed having their beauty sleep at this time. I was about going to bed as well, but too bad, I need to do some reading for my assignment to be submitted this Friday. I guess I had this tendency to blog or post something at my busy hours instead of my free time. You know, after lotsa pdf files, websites, and articles buzzing around your hectic head, you might want some refreshment. In my case, blogging perhaps :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While typing this post with eyes half open, bf came to remind me through msn that I have a freaking morning class tomorrow and that I need to go sleep like 'now'. At the same time, he's down there, five floors away from my unit, reading his notes and preparing for the test first thing in the morning later on. Kay, given the time limit (lol), I won't blabber too much then, good night all of you ♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh well, here some random photos I just edited couple hours ago. As I've told you, I had a very high tendency to do unnecessary things mostly on my full schedule period, my bad !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S_A68STAFjI/AAAAAAAAAes/jO4cPjZVwFo/s1600/ab.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S_A68STAFjI/AAAAAAAAAes/jO4cPjZVwFo/s320/ab.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471938354633250354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S_A674E3a1I/AAAAAAAAAek/U3i_2CW83KA/s1600/as.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S_A674E3a1I/AAAAAAAAAek/U3i_2CW83KA/s320/as.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471938347594640210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright then, hope that'll make up for my absence at least until upcoming Friday. And lastly, best luck for the test, bf :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-2380184977860002304?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2380184977860002304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/2380184977860002304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/05/going-to-sleep-after-this-post.html' title='going-to-sleep-after-this-post'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S_A68STAFjI/AAAAAAAAAes/jO4cPjZVwFo/s72-c/ab.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-6726678875664113929</id><published>2010-05-05T00:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T07:38:18.512-07:00</updated><title type='text'>option that one shall choose.</title><content type='html'>Have been 'typing-saving-and-deleting' this blog post since the last couple of hours. Yet, the urge to write has finally made me decided to go on with the post. At this very moment, there are assignments due on Friday waiting to be done. However, I decided to take some time break, so here I am instead of finishing those craps. Well, it happened that I had this long conversation with my brother, asking him for suggestion of which camera should I take. Yes, most of the times, I'd come to my brother and discuss everything before I make a decision. To my surprise, he has grown up so much in the way he think, I should say. Each and every advices I heard from him is like a huge wake-up-call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I've been thinking again and again why on earth I demanded so much of thing I don't even deserve. I turned out, nagged my mom to buy me one of those cameras which I believe is not the last thing I'd nag her to buy. Perhaps next month, I'd come to her, show her a catalogue of branded stuff then start nag and demand her to let me have one. Well, I can honestly tell you, mom and dad never fail to satisfy all of my financial demand. I just come to ask myself, what did I give them in return? Obviously, I can't afford to buy them pricey stuff. But that's not what I meant here, the fact that I didn't put enough effort on my study is what disappoint me the most. I didn't make use every cents they spent on me wisely, I ignore the fact that I'm obliged to act as a responsible daughter. I went out having too much fun, spending cents they earned for the sake of my education.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you tell me, what is the point of possessing branded bags, designer shoes, expensive fine dress, and high-end gadgets which you bought using your parents' credit cards?? I'm getting even more and more annoyed with myself. I was blinded from the start, acting so irresponsible and ignorant. Hence, I finally convinced myself, that every other things are not important, all stuff are just tertiary needs. What matter the most is I have to score high, bring home a degree behind my name, move beyond boundaries and make my parents held their head high, and say "that is my daughter". This is a promise to myself, a gentle reminder to stay humble and down to earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If any of you reading my post here, feeling the same way like I did...perhaps, you should think over again what you deserve and what you don't. Well, I know best that Burberry is inevitable, indeed. I can't agree more, but let's think as a smart, Burberry and Prada won't get you a position in a well-known company. The substances in your brain will !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-6726678875664113929?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6726678875664113929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/6726678875664113929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/05/option-that-one-shall-choose.html' title='option that one shall choose.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8886773838390217263</id><published>2010-04-30T08:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T08:25:02.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>lust list.</title><content type='html'>Have been eyeing on several items which is definitely worth to die for, ugh ! guess gonna get myself a camera, can't decide yet either lomo or polaroid. any idea guys? here are some hot stuff i'd like to have at the moment &gt;.&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S9r1X7iGYmI/AAAAAAAAAd0/6_eGMNDX8UA/s1600/22.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 310px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S9r1X7iGYmI/AAAAAAAAAd0/6_eGMNDX8UA/s320/22.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465950889234031202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S9r1Ytd-56I/AAAAAAAAAeE/CZ8iTxPFSRI/s1600/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S9r1Ytd-56I/AAAAAAAAAeE/CZ8iTxPFSRI/s320/1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465950902638536610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S9r1YUyffaI/AAAAAAAAAd8/lUW2gn5CGrY/s1600/1d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S9r1YUyffaI/AAAAAAAAAd8/lUW2gn5CGrY/s320/1d.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465950896013671842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S9r1XiQrOLI/AAAAAAAAAds/VnB65XTtEAk/s1600/1a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S9r1XiQrOLI/AAAAAAAAAds/VnB65XTtEAk/s320/1a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465950882450061490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anddddd a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;lomo diana&lt;/span&gt; !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8886773838390217263?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8886773838390217263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8886773838390217263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/04/lust-list.html' title='lust list.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S9r1X7iGYmI/AAAAAAAAAd0/6_eGMNDX8UA/s72-c/22.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-5328949302419702417</id><published>2010-04-14T08:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T11:39:46.459-07:00</updated><title type='text'>second quarter.</title><content type='html'>Hello, good night readers. Wonder if the days have been good to you cause it doesn't turn out so for me. So it's the 'solvency' issue am talking about here, lol. Kinda over spent the ringgits this month, ohh oww, but that's okay - gonna save each and every cents from now on *cross fingers. Let's see how am gonna struggle for the rest of the month so that I won't cross the budget line. Enough said, you won't be interested in my money issues though, will you? haha. So here's pictures from past few days' blast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S8YDZbfNmdI/AAAAAAAAAdc/UmUf9fWHvx8/s1600/IMG00706-20100410-2318.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S8YDZbfNmdI/AAAAAAAAAdc/UmUf9fWHvx8/s320/IMG00706-20100410-2318.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460055333643590098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S8YDY4INZxI/AAAAAAAAAdU/c1Eskx_DjcE/s1600/IMG00718-20100410-2335.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S8YDY4INZxI/AAAAAAAAAdU/c1Eskx_DjcE/s320/IMG00718-20100410-2335.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460055324151867154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S8YDYq6MaxI/AAAAAAAAAdM/zMRQEiYgEqo/s1600/IMG00046-20100411-0245.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S8YDYq6MaxI/AAAAAAAAAdM/zMRQEiYgEqo/s320/IMG00046-20100411-0245.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460055320603421458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S8YDYaRz__I/AAAAAAAAAdE/JqyUQnCmCEk/s1600/IMG00033-20100411-0240.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S8YDYaRz__I/AAAAAAAAAdE/JqyUQnCmCEk/s320/IMG00033-20100411-0240.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460055316139081714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, one more thing which I can't stop myself from not writing - it's a piece of advice anyway. You better stop acting up, sweetheart or else, everyone around you are gonna dump you the hard way. And oh well, please zip your fucking mouth off or I'll zip it for you. Go ahead and mock at me, you are so gonna pay for it. I mean really please, am getting so enough of you. What the hell with all those attitudes? I see no good, no grace, and no beauty in it, at all !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I bet everyone gonna be as mad as I am now when you found out certain people simply judge you when they don't even know what the fuck you've been through ! And you have the right to be even madder, when the one who dare to judge you are even far far far worse. Keep in your mind, I am someone who always have my very own way in giving lessons. Instead of a hard rough slap in face, I'll come up with something you never expected. All I can say, it won't be nice and yes, you won't like it that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps. daily updates on my &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/febrilimanto"&gt;twitter&lt;/a&gt; loves :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-5328949302419702417?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5328949302419702417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5328949302419702417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/04/second-quarter.html' title='second quarter.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_W5Z-Ke70--s/S8YDZbfNmdI/AAAAAAAAAdc/UmUf9fWHvx8/s72-c/IMG00706-20100410-2318.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-8760183263644775225</id><published>2010-04-10T05:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T09:27:43.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>becoming myself.</title><content type='html'>I bet there are times when one feels like becoming someone else, living in a life which is so-not-you. I went through that times, not because I enjoy being someone else but because I was indeed trying to be perfect to others. That was stupid, I know. Doubting yourself can be the greatest fault all of us are guilty of. You are never the same person you were yesterday. Expectations of life yield different meanings and feats but outcomes solely symbolises your all. Money, luxury, wealth and power represent happiness in many cultures. What if you have all of this, but no one to share it with? What if it wasn't appreciated? Ever sit in a room full of people but still feel alone? Feeling unappreciated and taken for granted maybe the worst feeling the heart can bare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a little, the society taught me that being different was wrong. Just like when they showed me a picture of three oranges and a pear and asked me to eliminate which one is different and does not belong. Luckily, I failed the test most of the times. Well, I'm telling you that I feel it perfectly fine being different. I will never try to be perfect, looks perfect or sounds perfect in front of anyone. I enjoy being a realist and a perfectionist. I'm in fact easily irritated, emotional, and impatient. I am passionate, procrastinatory, proud, sarcastic, scary, stubborn, sympathetic, a dreamer and a believer of fate. I'm sorry if you don't like me, I'm sorry if you think I suck but most of all "I'm sorry", I don't give a fuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-8760183263644775225?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8760183263644775225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/8760183263644775225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/04/becoming-myself.html' title='becoming myself.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-4063551763518917446</id><published>2010-04-05T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T21:43:03.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you and your lies.</title><content type='html'>I came to realize one thing, why the hell on this earth I tried so hard to fix things between us when you are the one who secretly messed all up. Now I feel fucking retarded for all the effort I've done never worth the result ! I always thought I'm the one who has to be blamed, the one to feel sorry, the one has to apologize. Well, now I realized how stupid I am putting all the blame on myself while you and your lies stand still like nothing's wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps, I'm saying perhaps that this is nothing big, it just the foolish me choose to be with a boy instead of a man, whose life is all about his games, his friends, and his comfort zone. No, there's no need to be sorry because I know you are not. You just need to hang on and think all over again, where you did wrong and where you did right. Well, am not saying you might have done something right, but you certainly done something wrong. Until you figured it out, we'll never be fine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-4063551763518917446?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4063551763518917446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/4063551763518917446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/04/you-and-your-lies.html' title='you and your lies.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-3570975048552083162</id><published>2010-03-31T01:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T05:34:47.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>good and happy</title><content type='html'>These few days appeared to be tough since I had all this sore throat, runny nose and high fever attacking exactly after I had so much popcorn. I hate being sick, well, I have the reason to skip class but I hate doing nothing instead of laze on bed whole day. I must feel better in no time, so I could catch up with all the essays I haven't finished and reading that I have to go through since I keep missing the classes. Mom and dad sounded so worried when they know my condition and keep blabbering on how important it is to take enough rest and sleep early. Ohh am 20 ! I think they just forgot how their daughter has grown up. Dad was offering me to go back home town for my midbreak holiday but I don't feel like going back. It's supposedly my last year here, so I think I'm gonna spend it tripping around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So school has been quite okay so far besides all those reading to do. There will be lotsa assignment due after my midbreak, ganbatte ! As soon as I recovered, I'll start working on the assignment and house work too, this is a promise. Alright then, happy mid-semester break fellas !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-3570975048552083162?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3570975048552083162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/3570975048552083162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/03/to-be-well-and-happy.html' title='good and happy'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891290089485403577.post-5094096245276070776</id><published>2010-03-18T23:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-18T23:29:57.811-07:00</updated><title type='text'>biggest treasure.</title><content type='html'>Ughh, too bad I had to tell you that I once again went through a very hard week, a very very very hard one indeed. I suffered an acute self-focused disease, started to ignore everyone and not even giving a damn to important things. Well, as what I've said in my last post, I really went out of line, becoming someone else that I can hardly recognize. The minute I realize I went so wrong, I tried hard to find a way back. Hoping someone is there to help and give his/her hands. In fact, I'm lucky. My best friend, (well, I never really had what so called best friend yet I found one now), you know who you are, helped me through my hard times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, I get the courage to speak up what I want and start to find 'myself' in me with her advice and guidance. Thank God, she was there to remind me that I've done something very inappropriate. So I made a promise, a promise to myself, that I won't let you guys down. I'll be someone better and someday you'll be proud having me as your friend. I won't stop thanking, never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing is I wanna apologize to everyone, anyone, someone, whoever you are if I've offended you in any way. I might be too unstable these few weeks and don't take something I've done seriously cause at that time, I might be out of mind. At the very end, I wish everything's fine. Many thanks and sorry at the same time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6891290089485403577-5094096245276070776?l=thescratchoflife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5094096245276070776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6891290089485403577/posts/default/5094096245276070776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thescratchoflife.blogspot.com/2010/03/biggest-treasure.html' title='biggest treasure.'/><author><name>febrilimanto</name><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></entry></feed>
