<?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-3519809300429927148</id><updated>2012-02-05T00:52:03.079-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HOTTER THAN MIAMI, I FEEL THE HEAT. ♥</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bianca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971713708617540303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hvVoz_5CKL8/Txe-fmuHHtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dV1NzAl3Odw/s220/82bf8c071e0f0f1905e85b36217e6e81_22317439.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3519809300429927148.post-4110637983821008646</id><published>2012-02-05T00:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T00:52:03.087-08:00</updated><title type='text'>25 Manners Every Kid Should Know By Age 9.</title><content type='html'>Even though I don't observe all of them, I still believe in good manners. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #1&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When asking for something, say "Please." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #2&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When receiving something, say "Thank you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #3&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not interrupt grown-ups who are speaking with each other unless there is an emergency. They will notice you and respond when they are finished talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #4&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you do need to get somebody's attention right away, the phrase "excuse me" is the most polite way for you to enter the conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #5&lt;/b&gt;When you have any doubt about doing something, ask permission first. It can save you from many hours of grief later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #6&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world is not interested in what you dislike. Keep negative opinions to yourself, or between you and your friends, and out of earshot of adults.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #7&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not comment on other people's physical characteristics unless, of course, it's to compliment them, which is always welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #8&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When people ask you how you are, tell them and then ask them how they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #9&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you have spent time at your friend's house, remember to thank his or her parents for having you over and for the good time you had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #10&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knock on closed doors -- and wait to see if there's a response -- before entering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #11&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you make a phone call, introduce yourself first and then ask if you can speak with the person you are calling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #12&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be appreciative and say "thank you" for any gift you receive. In the age of e-mail, a handwritten thank-you note can have a powerful effect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #13&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never use foul language in front of adults. Grown-ups already know all those words, and they find them boring and unpleasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #14&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't call people mean names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #15&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not make fun of anyone for any reason. Teasing shows others you are weak, and ganging up on someone else is cruel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #16&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if a play or an assembly is boring, sit through it quietly and pretend that you are interested. The performers and presenters are doing their best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #17&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you bump into somebody, immediately say "Excuse me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #18&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze, and don't pick your nose in public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #19&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you walk through a door, look to see if you can hold it open for someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #20&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you come across a parent, a teacher, or a neighbor working on something, ask if you can help. If they say "yes," do so -- you may learn something new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #21&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When an adult asks you for a favor, do it without grumbling and with a smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #22&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When someone helps you, say "thank you." That person will likely want to help you again. This is especially true with teachers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #23&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Use eating utensils properly. If you are unsure how to do so, ask your parents to teach you or watch what adults do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Manner #24&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep a napkin on your lap; use it to wipe your mouth when necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manner #25&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't reach for things at the table; ask to have them passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learn something everyday! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3519809300429927148-4110637983821008646?l=parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/4110637983821008646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/02/25-manners-every-kid-should-know-by-age.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/4110637983821008646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/4110637983821008646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/02/25-manners-every-kid-should-know-by-age.html' title='25 Manners Every Kid Should Know By Age 9.'/><author><name>Bianca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971713708617540303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hvVoz_5CKL8/Txe-fmuHHtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dV1NzAl3Odw/s220/82bf8c071e0f0f1905e85b36217e6e81_22317439.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3519809300429927148.post-5820499446119766889</id><published>2012-02-04T22:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-04T22:05:39.007-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The final product.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Okay, so I wrote my first version of this piece two years ago. I haven't paid much attention to it, until today, when I finally decided that I would upload in on Wattpad. I rewrote it, and I don't think that this short story has a title. I deliberately tried to apply that change of mood in the story. Hope you like it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;* * * * * * * * * *&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;style&gt;&lt;!-- /* Font Definitions */@font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0cm; margin-right:0cm; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0cm; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-ansi-language:EN-NZ;}@page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;}div.Section1 {page:Section1;}--&gt;&lt;/style&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;In the midst ofeverything, the yelling, the blaming, the swearing and the hurting, I do whatmy dad had done. In the heat of Mom and Paul’s fight, I walked out, just likethat. Something I had never done before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;As fast as Icould, I run to the park, bringing nothing but my anger. For years, I’ve beenkept up all night listening to them quarrel. I’m beginning to think that maybeit is our fault, me and Nathaniel’s. Why Dad had left and why all this ishappening right now. Perhaps it’s a bit too much for me to expect that Paul wasfatherly enough to fill in that gap. I’m wrong to think he was the missingpiece. Just like he said, we’re not his kids. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;We’ve come thisfar. We moved here in hope of starting anew, with Paul finally becoming thebreadwinner. But nothing’s changed. Mom still has to do everything. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;Everything is sodifferent from where we came from. Here, the sun shone brightly in betweencirrus clouds. Back in Benton, we had stratus skies. At night, the twinklingstars were visible. Montruce smelled of the salty sea breeze. Benton was humidand polluted. This town, no matter how small it is, is a town where everyoneknew and trusted one another. People are honest. It’s safe to go out at night.After a couple of months of residing here, I know that this is where we shouldbe. We’re at the right place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;But sure, myfamily can go to all the right places in the world, but they’ll never stopfighting. Paul can’t see that this town has a lot of opportunities to offer.Sure, Montruce is small and quiet, but it’s certainly not a place for losers.If there’s one loser in this town, it’s him. All he’s been successful in doingsince we got here is getting my mother pregnant. I guess I’m kind of mad at Momtoo. How come after all the hurt she’s been through, she’s still putting upwith this ass clown?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;Okay, easy, Ithink to myself as I sit on the bench. Inhale. Exhale. Good vibes, good vibes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“The world isquiet here,” a voice says behind me. I turn around. It’s Travis. The pale moonmakes his sparkly sapphire eyes glisten even more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;He lookedperfect as ever, but timing was imperfect. Why right now? Why when I’m in themiddle of this? “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” I snap. Okay, now I’m really angryat myself for being so rude to him.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Why’s that?”Travis asks, sliding in next to me on the bench. “Is Montruce not silent enoughfor you?” He doesn’t look cheeky or offended. He’s still got the same pokerface. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“No, no,” Ishake my head. “That’s not what I meant. This town is amazing. It’s just… myhouse isn’t so peaceful right now.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Do you want totalk about it?” he asks. I don’t say anything. “Okay,” he finally says.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;No. I wasn’tgoing to let my parents’ fight ruin my dream coming true of Travis Rathowndfinally having a conversation with me. I force a weak smile. “So how’ve you been,Travis?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Great. Justgreat.” I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;Nevertheless,I’m not going to allow this conversation to become awkward. “How’s your head?Looks like you’ve been hit pretty badly in school a while ago.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;He lifts up somehair on his forehead to reveal a large bruise on his temple. “The ice pack wasbandaged around my head with a tea towel all afternoon. Some random even askedif the towel covered any lobotomy stitches. At least I get to have an earlydismissal. And it’s actually not that bad.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Getting knockedout in the middle of the hallway after Tyler the Tank demonstrates an indoorflyball isn’t &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;that &lt;/i&gt;bad? What, are youlike Superman now or something?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;This makes himlaugh. “I believe that if I were Superman, I wouldn’t have this bruise,” hesays. “But hey, I get the advantage of having bottomless Swiss Miss at theschool clinic.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Oh my god, theydo that?” I ask.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Do what?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Give you freehot chocolate?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Yeah, withmarshmallows.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Unlimited?” Iask.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;He nods.“Unlimited.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Wow.” My newschool &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;is &lt;/i&gt;fancy. “Hey, can I ask youa question besides this question that I’m asking you right now?” I ask.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;Travis chuckles.“You’re funny. Sure, go ahead.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Why are youtalking to me?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;What?” &lt;/i&gt;He frowns in confusion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;Okay, what Isaid had come out wrong. “No, no, no. I mean, you never actually talk to me inschool or anywhere else. I’m pretty sure this is the first time you’ve eversaid more than two words to me. And I’ve been told that you never really talkto people.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Well, has itoccurred to you that maybe you’re not a person, and that’s why I’m talking toyou?” Travis asks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;Now it’s my turnto say, “Um, what?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“I was joking,”he explains with a laugh. “You’re slow.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Wow, thanks.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;Somehow, I wasbeginning to feel butterflies on my stomach. My cheeks are feeling hot. Ididn’t want to look at him, otherwise I’d melt. Why does he have to be so darncute? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Do you want toknow why I talk to you?” He asks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“Yes,” I answer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“You’re not likethe other girls,” he says straightforwardly. “You don’t tiptoe around me.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;Aha. So he &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;knows &lt;/i&gt;that he’s good-looking. I knowit’s supposed to be a turn-off when hot guys aren’t oblivious to theirattractiveness, but somehow, I appreciate his honesty. And he’s still hot andgorgeous and intriguing. And hot. It must be against the freaking law. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“You’re not thekind of girl who wants to run for homecoming queen,” he continues. “You’re notthe kind of girl who dresses just like those chicks from FHM. You’re not thekind of girl who relies on other girls to believe she’s pretty.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“How do you knowI’m not that kind of girl? I only came here like what, a couple of months ago?And besides, you’ve never talked to me apart from now.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “Well,I’ve been watching you,” he replies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “You’vebeen watching me? That’s not extremely creepy at all,” I say sarcastically.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Heplaces his hand on my knee. This makes me look at him. “&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;What &lt;/i&gt;are you doing?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “Ididn’t think it was possible to fall for someone you’ve only known for a coupleof months, and to whom you’ve never said a single word,” he says. “But now Iknow that it can happen.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;Is this really happening? &lt;/i&gt;TravisRathownd is telling me he likes me? No. Not now. My family’s a mess. My home’sa mess. I’m a mess. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “Travis,”I begin. “I really like you. But right now, everything’s just coming undone.I’m just not sure if now’s the right time for you to become part of it.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “Whatif… what if I say that I want to become part of it?” he says. “What if I wantto be there for you? And I want you to feel like you’re not alone? What if Iwant to be the one that you talk to late at night? What if I want to be the onewho’ll never hurt you? Will you give me a chance?” Is the sky blue? Is waterwet? Is Paul a selfish cow? Is my heart racing a thousand miles right now? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Ismile and nod. “Yes.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Weboth lean in close.&amp;nbsp; Really, reallyclose. Close to the point where our lips are less than an inch apart. I closemy eyes, knowing what’s coming next. Suddenly I feel my hands on his shoulders.Then our lips meet. I’ve never felt something so amazingly electric. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Myfirst kiss. Who knew that it would be Travis Rathownd, the handsome,mysterious, intriguing loner from school? And what do I do after pulling away?Do you hug him? Tell him something? Walk off? Or kiss him again until neitherof you stop, so you end up kissing eternally? This is the awkward part I’llhave to figure out in less than a second.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Heplaces his hands on my back as our lips continued to touch. This kiss isneither light nor greedy.&amp;nbsp; It’ssimply sweet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Aswe both pull away, he smiles. I put my arms around him. “You’re my first kiss,”I tell him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-NZ"&gt;“You’re minetoo,” Travis says. He runs his fingers down my hair and lightly kisses myforehead. &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3519809300429927148" name="_GoBack"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Maybe I didn’t always have to go through thingson my own. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3519809300429927148-5820499446119766889?l=parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/5820499446119766889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/02/final-product.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/5820499446119766889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/5820499446119766889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/02/final-product.html' title='The final product.'/><author><name>Bianca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971713708617540303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hvVoz_5CKL8/Txe-fmuHHtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dV1NzAl3Odw/s220/82bf8c071e0f0f1905e85b36217e6e81_22317439.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3519809300429927148.post-783684888233930159</id><published>2012-01-31T12:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T20:53:59.891-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Well, it's 9:00 am and in two hours, I'll be a Year 11. A senior, officially.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;It's a pretty big leap, and as Tamara says it, &lt;i&gt;a rite of passage&lt;/i&gt;. Yeah, it's weird to think about it. For some reason, it makes me feel old. I'm only fourteen. I'm suddenly reminded of how fast I'm growing, physically and mentally. It's like I'm at school now, I graduate, get a job, get married, have kids, get a mortgage, send off my kids to college, retire, game over. I get pretty scared about that. It's like playing the Game of Life, except that it's &lt;i&gt;real &lt;/i&gt;and you don't always have a car to ride in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Anyway, for this school year, we'll be getting a new homeroom adviser. Ms. Khanna, last year's form teacher, has moved to Auckland. I guess it's a bit sad, since our class kind of took her for granted and assumed that she was always going to be there. But no, she's really special and we all miss her. She's like my second mother. :) I secretly hope that she hasn't really gone, and when we come to school later, she'll be there and say, "Surprise! I didn't really move to Auckland!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;But if that doesn't happen, I hope that our new form teacher will be nice. And supportive. And has a wicked sense of humor.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Even though I'm a little nervous about entering the NCEA system, I'm pretty excited. I'm not saying that I'm ready, but for some reason, I want the challenge. I want the stress. I want to prove people wrong. I mean, I don't think I need to be the best amongst all the other people. I just want to achieve Level 1 with Excellence. I just hope I still feel this way during the middle of the year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3519809300429927148-783684888233930159?l=parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/783684888233930159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/first-day-part-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/783684888233930159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/783684888233930159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/first-day-part-1.html' title='First day!'/><author><name>Bianca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971713708617540303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hvVoz_5CKL8/Txe-fmuHHtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dV1NzAl3Odw/s220/82bf8c071e0f0f1905e85b36217e6e81_22317439.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3519809300429927148.post-7401326591901486253</id><published>2012-01-26T00:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-26T00:26:45.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm here without you, baby.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/kPBzTxZQG5Q/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kPBzTxZQG5Q&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266"  src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kPBzTxZQG5Q&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After listening to Johnny sing "Here Without You" by 3 Doors Down last night on X-Factor Australia, I've become addicted. Honestly. I've known this song for a long time, but I only started &lt;i&gt;actually &lt;/i&gt;listening to it just now. It gives off that feeling of loneliness, being away from someone you love. It doesn't matter how long you've been apart, it's just the fact that you miss them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's not exactly a &lt;i&gt;sad &lt;/i&gt;song entirely.&amp;nbsp; The chorus goes:&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;I'm here without you baby&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But you're still on my lonely mind&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I think about you baby&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;And I dream about you all the time&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I'm here without you baby&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But you're still with me in my dreams&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;And tonight, it's only you and me&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to Brad Arnold, the vocalist of &lt;i&gt;3 Doors Down&lt;/i&gt;, the song is about "being in a state of peace, because you've got that person with you in your sleep." He wrote it having his (now ex-) wife as an &lt;i&gt;inspiration,&lt;/i&gt; but it wasn't dedicated to her. She was just the main thought during the process of songwriting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although the song gives me that sad kind of feeling (through the beat and the title), the song has actually a positive meaning. The line &lt;i&gt;"when the last one falls, when all is said and done, it gets hard but it won't take away my love"&lt;/i&gt; simply means that even if the whole world is crumbling and coming undone, he'll still be in love with her. And Brad tells &lt;i&gt;Songfacts.com&lt;/i&gt;, "I kind of meant it to be a bit of a happy song."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there we go. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3519809300429927148-7401326591901486253?l=parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/7401326591901486253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/im-here-without-you-baby.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/7401326591901486253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/7401326591901486253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/im-here-without-you-baby.html' title='I&apos;m here without you, baby.'/><author><name>Bianca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971713708617540303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hvVoz_5CKL8/Txe-fmuHHtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dV1NzAl3Odw/s220/82bf8c071e0f0f1905e85b36217e6e81_22317439.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3519809300429927148.post-1713608987543676324</id><published>2012-01-23T23:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T11:10:42.600-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Money, money, money, money!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I have the weirdest title, oh my god. But the Apprentice theme song is so catchy! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Earlier today, I checked our school website for when school actually starts. It says "30th January 2012- Term 1 Week 1." But as we were told on the last day of school, our Orientation Day was going to be on the 2nd of February. I'm just confused as to what date the first day is actually going to be. It would be awkward to come on the wrong day. -.-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the afternoon, I decided to go on another job hunt. There were quite a few of them with available jobs (I just needed to bring in a CV), but I'm sure that there will be a bit of a problem once they find out that I'm only 14. I'm turning 15 in 4 months! Couldn't I possibly count as 15 anyway? Eh, maybe not. (Dad said that I have to be honest about my age, otherwise they might be accused of &lt;i&gt;child exploitation&lt;/i&gt;.) It's okay though. If no one hires me, I'll take the remaining time until my birthday to find a volunteer job, so I can have a bit of experience. I'm thinking The Salvation Army or something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;On the way home, I saw Tamara picking up her little sister, Nicole, from kindergarten. She asked me if I wanted to go biking with her tomorrow at 1:30. I'm pretty excited, since I haven't seen her all holidays. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6XuQ2eexNg8/Tx8B5OAXvRI/AAAAAAAAACA/W5TjOIZ8fqM/s1600/DSC05210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6XuQ2eexNg8/Tx8B5OAXvRI/AAAAAAAAACA/W5TjOIZ8fqM/s320/DSC05210.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Martina, Me, Tamara and Brenna &amp;gt;:D&amp;lt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Okay, so I decided that I would cheat. Just for a little bit. I promised myself that I won't flood this blog with surveys, but it's been ages since I last filled in one of these. :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: ms gothic,gothic; font-size: x-small;"&gt;1. What name do you hate to be called? Girlfriend. As in, "Hey girlfriend!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Do you have to study hard for tests in order to do well, or can you usually do well without studying? Depends. =)) No, actually, I have to study.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Who was your first best friend? Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. When was the last time you pulled a prank on someone? What did you do? Secret, lol. =))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Do you know anyone who doesn't celebrate Halloween for religious reasons? I know someone, but not for religious reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Describe the last weird dream you had. I joined a Dance Improv competition with this guy I used to like, and we danced itik-itik. O_O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Which do you prefer: fictional or non-fictional books? Depends. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Have you ever fallen out of bed while sleeping? Yeahp. :( I cried when I woke up, complaining that I might've damaged my clavicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Do you like to watch re-runs of canceled TV shows from years ago? Sometimes. =))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. What is the last thing you wrote on paper? My contact details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Will you be watching HSM3 when it comes into theaters? It already came out. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Does your car/your parent's car have a cassette player or a CD player? CD player!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Would you ever be able to kill someone? WELL. No, I don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Have you ever thought that you could be psychic? Oh yes,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. When you were a kid, did your mother or father read you bedtime stories all the time? MHMM. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. In your opinion, who is the most annoying celebrity? Idk!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. When was the last time you tripped on your shoelace? I can't remember how long ago it was, but it was the time when I tied them together out of curiosity. I fell on this man's lap. Never again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. What is your favorite potato chip flavor? Honey Soy Chicken. :&amp;gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: ms gothic,gothic; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Do you prefer digital clocks over analogue clocks? Analogue. YES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. How long does it usually take you to shower? AGES...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Does your mother/grandmother knit things for you often? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. What chapter are you on in the book you're reading? I'm not reading anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. If you had to choose, would you rather paint your room pink or yellow? Yellow! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. When is the last time you played with Play-Doh? Last year! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. What do you think of the paparazzi? :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Do you believe that angels exist? Yeah. O:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Would you ever consider a career in health care? I can't even take care of my own health.:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Are you dreading an event in the near future? Yeah. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. What did the last dress you wore look like? White, from Supre.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: ms gothic,gothic; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. If you could talk to your ten-year-old self right now, what would you say to them? HE'LL NEVER HAPPEN !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Who is your greatest role model? Carrie Bradshaw. Wahooo. :&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Do you find urban legends fascinating? Eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. Who do you know has the weirdest name? =))) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. Are you wearing slippers right now? Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. What is the last assignment you did for school? Idk, I haven't gone to school in like, two months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Do you hate to speak in front of large crowds? I don't mind. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Is there an apparent injury somewhere on your body? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. What is one word to describe your father? Verbose, like me! &amp;gt;:)&amp;lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Which kind of dog do you think is the ugliest? Idk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. Do you tend to get very stressful near exams? YEP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. Are you a stickler for grammar? Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. What is your state's flower? Idk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. Does it bother you when surveys assume you're from America? Not really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. What is the latest gaming console you have in the house? We don't. =))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. Have you changed your hair color in the past five years? No. =))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. Would you rather take the stairs or the elevator/escalator? Depends. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. Name a band that comes from your hometown.Um. Rivermaya? Eraserheads? Idk!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: ms gothic,gothic; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. Are you old enough to get your driver's license yet? No. ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. Where will you be in a couple hours? My bed. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. What is the last birthday gift you got from your mom? A laptop. &amp;gt;:D&amp;lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51. Tell me a lyric that's stuck in your head. Tell me how can you sleep? How can you breathe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. Which European accent is your favorite? BRITISH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. Look at your calendar. Is anything written on today's date? No. =))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. In your opinion, have things in the world taken a turn for the worst? Mmm. Yeah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. Do you know what kind of drunk you are? I don't drink, bebe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: ms gothic,gothic; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. When is the last time you slept over at friend's house? Brenna's house !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57. What color are the walls of the room you're in? Dirty white. :&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58. Does it bother you when people don't know the difference between "your" and "you're"? YES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;59. Are you good with basic HTML? No...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60. Besides this one, which is the last website you logged into? Tumblr!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61. Do you use online translators often? Nope. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62. What picture is on your desktop? The Earth. :&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63. Ever written a resume for yourself or anyone else? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;64. What do you hear right now? TV!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. Which holiday is nearest to today's date? Valentine's Day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: ms gothic,gothic; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66. Where did you get your current layout? Uh... from the site? I found it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;67. Have you ever attended a "divorce" party? There's such thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;68. What color is your barbecue? Whaaat? /:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;69. Have you taken a shower yet today? No, I stink!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70. Recite a quote from your favourite movie: I got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;71. Do you believe there is an afterlife? Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;72. Are you on a Mac or a PC? Mac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;73. What do you think about Blink 182 breaking up? They're breaking up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74. What was the last thing you searched on Google? "flowers"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;75. Go to "Bookmarks" on your toolbar. What is the first site that is listed? TRANSFORMERS CARTOON SERIES. =)))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;76. What blogs are you subscribed to on MySpace? I don`t do Myspace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: ms gothic,gothic; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;77. Are you the type of person that adds a thousand friends you don't even know? Nope.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: ms gothic,gothic; font-size: x-small;"&gt;78. Have you bought your winter jackets? Not yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;79. What is the last thing you sent in the mail? Email to Dayna. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80. Do you write things on your arms and/or hands so you won't forget? YEAH! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;81. What does the nearest piece of paper have written on it? "Happy Birthday"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;82. If a tree falls in the forest, and there's no one around to hear it, does it make a sound? Yeah, there's just no one around to hear it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;83. Aren't chain letters annoying? I kinda like reading them eh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: ms gothic,gothic; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;84. When is the last time you ate pasta? Just then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;85. Which is the last YouTube video you watched? JET LAAAAG. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;86. When is your mom's birthday? 17 FEBRUARY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;87. Do you use smiley faces often? :D :) :&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;88. Is the top of your dresser messy? Not anymore!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;89. Have you ever made anything with pottery? Yeah,in kindergarten. I made a "lizard."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90. Who is the last person you sent an e-card to? Why? I don't send e-cards. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;91. What is the last song you sang aloud? Long Distance, the Bruno Mars version. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;92. Do you think you're wise for your age? No way. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;93. What is the last parade you attended? Uh, the Johnsonville Christmas Parade?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;94. Is your cursor anything different than the regular white kind? No, I've got the regular black kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;95. Do you like glow sticks? YEAAAAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;96. What is the last picture you took on your cell phone? My hands.&amp;gt;&amp;lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;97. What kind of printer do you have? Our one doesn't work. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;98. Do you find old-fashioned cars interesting? Yeah! They're cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;99. What age were you when you stopped believing in Santa Claus? What if I still do, huh? Huh? =))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;100. Do you think that they'll ever invent a way to time travel? Maybeee.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3519809300429927148-1713608987543676324?l=parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/1713608987543676324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/money-money-money-money.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/1713608987543676324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/1713608987543676324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/money-money-money-money.html' title='Money, money, money, money!'/><author><name>Bianca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971713708617540303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hvVoz_5CKL8/Txe-fmuHHtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dV1NzAl3Odw/s220/82bf8c071e0f0f1905e85b36217e6e81_22317439.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6XuQ2eexNg8/Tx8B5OAXvRI/AAAAAAAAACA/W5TjOIZ8fqM/s72-c/DSC05210.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3519809300429927148.post-317236013035003561</id><published>2012-01-22T00:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T00:26:03.344-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweetest taste of sin.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M6u0OiFQ7Ns/TxtJubC9c0I/AAAAAAAAABI/lk9zzSMYHdE/s1600/DSC05474.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="230" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M6u0OiFQ7Ns/TxtJubC9c0I/AAAAAAAAABI/lk9zzSMYHdE/s320/DSC05474.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5roVHYyXFPo/TxkW7ibrprI/AAAAAAAAABA/7f9rNU802vY/s1600/DSC05343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I just finished out last jar of &lt;b&gt;Nutella&lt;/b&gt;, the one with the Santa wrapper designed for the Christmas season. We now have Nutino, an alternative brand of hazelnut spread, which had been on special at the supermarket a few days ago. (They taste pretty much the same, except that Nutino is a &lt;i&gt;tiny &lt;/i&gt;bit sweeter. No denial, I'm a complete chocoholic. I love the melt-in-your-mouth sensation and the emotional comfort it comes gives. Countless bars of chocolate from our pantry have mysteriously gone missing.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5roVHYyXFPo/TxkW7ibrprI/AAAAAAAAABA/7f9rNU802vY/s1600/DSC05343.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5roVHYyXFPo/TxkW7ibrprI/AAAAAAAAABA/7f9rNU802vY/s320/DSC05343.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Guilty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I only started consuming Nutella when I was about twelve. Back in the Philippines, I thought Nutella tasted just like peanut butter. (There's something about peanut butter that just doesn't agree with my taste buds.) Here in New Zealand a couple of years ago, I tried having Nutella with my wheat bread, just to see what it actually. It was an amazing experience. :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So I tried Nutella along with other things, such as chocolate muffins, Milo cereal, cookies, and most importantly, SkyFlakes. (SkyFlakes are incredible. They are these saltine crackers that go with a lot of things, especially Nutella.) There was a point last year where SkyFlakes and Nutella are all I ate besides my meals. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fv4WbujOvOE/TxtV2kDENvI/AAAAAAAAABQ/LdAL1J2zmCQ/s1600/tumblr_lsuf430OAN1qlb4n3o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="259" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fv4WbujOvOE/TxtV2kDENvI/AAAAAAAAABQ/LdAL1J2zmCQ/s320/tumblr_lsuf430OAN1qlb4n3o1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Since it was springtime, I'd let the Nutella sit on the windowsill and have it melted by the sun. Pure, pure bliss.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3519809300429927148-317236013035003561?l=parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/317236013035003561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/sweetest-taste-of-sin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/317236013035003561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/317236013035003561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/sweetest-taste-of-sin.html' title='Sweetest taste of sin.'/><author><name>Bianca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971713708617540303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hvVoz_5CKL8/Txe-fmuHHtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dV1NzAl3Odw/s220/82bf8c071e0f0f1905e85b36217e6e81_22317439.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M6u0OiFQ7Ns/TxtJubC9c0I/AAAAAAAAABI/lk9zzSMYHdE/s72-c/DSC05474.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3519809300429927148.post-287959761077978959</id><published>2012-01-21T23:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T23:59:48.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Paris, London, New York.</title><content type='html'>The other day, my brother asked me why "parislondonnewyork" was my username. To be honest, I don't really know why. But now, I realized that Paris, London and New York are just few of the places I want to visit someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DRQG1Elfy78/TxvAhSSwe4I/AAAAAAAAABY/3AGSwceAJYI/s1600/tumblr_lpjo5w7UgY1qlb4n3o1_500.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="258" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DRQG1Elfy78/TxvAhSSwe4I/AAAAAAAAABY/3AGSwceAJYI/s320/tumblr_lpjo5w7UgY1qlb4n3o1_500.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Paris (:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AX2loQUAFHA/TxvAiIoeHCI/AAAAAAAAABg/MPrWrhvy-pI/s1600/tumblr_lppdi6ndC51qjy5heo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y-YjDp7GeJk/TxvAizn8EBI/AAAAAAAAABo/T7EzzY48-M4/s1600/tumblr_lq69yba56v1qbl294o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="215" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y-YjDp7GeJk/TxvAizn8EBI/AAAAAAAAABo/T7EzzY48-M4/s320/tumblr_lq69yba56v1qbl294o1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;London (:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AX2loQUAFHA/TxvAiIoeHCI/AAAAAAAAABg/MPrWrhvy-pI/s1600/tumblr_lppdi6ndC51qjy5heo1_500.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AX2loQUAFHA/TxvAiIoeHCI/AAAAAAAAABg/MPrWrhvy-pI/s320/tumblr_lppdi6ndC51qjy5heo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;That's &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; the place, but it's a girl wearing a shirt that says "New York."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do with my life yet. I've been told a few times that on the way to finding out who you are, it's not that big of a deal to decide what you want, because the truth is, what you want can change. Oftentimes, it's what you &lt;i&gt;don't &lt;/i&gt;want that matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a bit of an idea of the things I don't want. It's simple, but if I stick to it, it will make a huge difference. For instance, I know that I don't want to end up pregnant at 16. I know that I don't want to be the type of person who turns to smoking, drugs or alcohol when faced with problems. And, I know that I don't want to stay in one place forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, it also helps to think of the things you want to do. I only know one thing: I want to move around. Maybe one day something will come along and change that, but right now, I want to explore. I've always known that I'm the type of person that gets bored and distracted easily and most of the time, it gets me into trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I guess it wouldn't hurt for me to say that I want another thing: to make a difference. In the good way, of course. It's cheesy, I know. I don't know when, I don't know how, but I want to. I just want to change someone's life forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z0P37eMSm88/TxvBkPpXCWI/AAAAAAAAABw/s4XkH_oB2Mo/s1600/tumblr_lp2jtbAVPG1qayvd5o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="215" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z0P37eMSm88/TxvBkPpXCWI/AAAAAAAAABw/s4XkH_oB2Mo/s320/tumblr_lp2jtbAVPG1qayvd5o1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3519809300429927148-287959761077978959?l=parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/287959761077978959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/paris-london-new-york.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/287959761077978959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/287959761077978959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/paris-london-new-york.html' title='Paris, London, New York.'/><author><name>Bianca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971713708617540303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hvVoz_5CKL8/Txe-fmuHHtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dV1NzAl3Odw/s220/82bf8c071e0f0f1905e85b36217e6e81_22317439.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DRQG1Elfy78/TxvAhSSwe4I/AAAAAAAAABY/3AGSwceAJYI/s72-c/tumblr_lpjo5w7UgY1qlb4n3o1_500.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3519809300429927148.post-4117047942647080460</id><published>2012-01-21T15:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T23:27:41.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There goes freedom.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;10 more days left until school starts again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I haven't even found a job! I'm too young. To land a job in fastfood chains or grocery stores, I have to be at least fifteen. Over the holidays I went job- hunting twice. But no luck; they either said that there weren't any available jobs for the summer, or that they already have enough people. I felt a bit deflated when the lady from Toyworld so rudely rejected me. If there's anything I learned from this, it's that I'm not giving up. I want the money, I need the money. I know that I could probably go for babysitting or paper-running, but I guess I'm just too picky. I'm thinking of going for another job hunt sometime this week, but I'm feeling ambivalent. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;One of the things I love about a new school year is the back-to-school shopping. I love getting new stationery and writing my name on them. And how when school starts, I write as neatly as possible, and in the middle of the school year, I just don't care anymore so I scribble. It happens all the time.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Another thing I love about school is, of course, the fact that I get to see my friends again everyday. We can have another one of our corny lunchtime adventures, being the crazy people we are.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Also, there's the fact that I am officially going to be a senior. I am going to be a Year 11, entering the first level of the NCEA curriculum. There's a lot of pressure to do exceptionally well. I learned from last year's experience that sometimes you still don't get it even if you try. I don't want to promise anything, but I &lt;i&gt;want &lt;/i&gt;to do good academically. I'm going to give it everything. My friend Josh told me that on the outside, I have that shy, Asian girl persona. But deep down, I can kick everyone's butts (in the good way) if I want to. And according to him, it's fun to watch. As extremely crazy that can be, I'm holding on to that notion so I can believe that I am going to rock this school year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3519809300429927148-4117047942647080460?l=parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/4117047942647080460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/there-goes-freedom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/4117047942647080460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/4117047942647080460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/there-goes-freedom.html' title='There goes freedom.'/><author><name>Bianca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971713708617540303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hvVoz_5CKL8/Txe-fmuHHtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dV1NzAl3Odw/s220/82bf8c071e0f0f1905e85b36217e6e81_22317439.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3519809300429927148.post-8925968736795160215</id><published>2012-01-18T23:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T15:20:13.422-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My first post!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I feel happy. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Well, I honestly don't know why I created this blog in the first place. Probably because I had a look at Mahaley Manning's blog, and it made me think that I could actually start a proper blog. My old blog has been filled with random surveys from MySpace and Multiply and everywhere else, and it's just too embarrassing to even look at them. Frankly, I don't know anything about blogging, but I want to learn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I still have no idea what I'm going to write about. Maybe food, books, music, people... I really don't know. I write about the most random things, and half the time, they're pointless. Or cheesy. But occasionally, I come up with pretty damn good ideas. So watch out for me !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3519809300429927148-8925968736795160215?l=parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/8925968736795160215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-first-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/8925968736795160215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3519809300429927148/posts/default/8925968736795160215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parislondonnewyork.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-first-post.html' title='My first post!'/><author><name>Bianca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971713708617540303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hvVoz_5CKL8/Txe-fmuHHtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/dV1NzAl3Odw/s220/82bf8c071e0f0f1905e85b36217e6e81_22317439.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
