<?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-3014680696573407495</id><updated>2011-07-07T22:36:51.425-07:00</updated><category term='truth'/><title type='text'>kimtorrijas</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>40</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-3643472407890984493</id><published>2010-04-05T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T17:09:40.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mhmm..</title><content type='html'>Humans were born with a brain. A brain that allows us to make 0ur own decisions, follow our own instincts.  And I am pretty sure that most of us are aware of that. Yet some people live controlled by other humans. Whether it i their parents, friends or partners.  Yes, compromise is usually the best way to go but when the compromise is always in favour of the other party.. Then I think its time for a new direction.  People tend to forget about their own happiness which will eventually lead to depression.  Sometimes the wrong thing to others is the best choice you have.  If true and utter happiness will come with your decisions why not take the chance?  We were created to make mistakes and our lives were created to be lived by ourselves. Not by the others around us.  Do not get the wrong message and think that I am trying to say, listening to advice is wrong.  I am saying it is not the only choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, this post is going no where .. I'll just stop now before I sound any dumber.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-3643472407890984493?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/3643472407890984493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/04/humans-were-born-with-brain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3643472407890984493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3643472407890984493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/04/humans-were-born-with-brain.html' title='Mhmm..'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-7981365881248767723</id><published>2010-03-25T16:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T17:18:22.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Let The Games Begin.</title><content type='html'>It seems as though he is being used as a rebound.  She may not know she is doing it &amp;amp; he certainly does not even want to think that it would ever be considered a possibility.  No matter what, his heart wants her.  Even when he says "I hate her" I know him well enough to know that actually means "I want her"  He hides his pain and love for her by telling people the opposite of his real feelings.  She has unknowingly found a familiar comfort in him the day that she met him.  He mistakes the comfort for something more.  To confuse his heart even more, she does not even realize that she does not have real feelings for him.  She is just satisfied by the fact that no matter what happens with any other relationship, there is always someone right behind her ready to catch her.  Every single time, he's there waiting.  He acts a fool for her but does not care.  She is content.  She knows that she will never be alone, so unaware of the fact that the man she is using as a backup also contains a heart inside that prideful body.  She says she loves him without even considering the meaning.  He says it back, putting his whole being into those three words.  She puts on a fake smile as he grins with an unbreakable happiness that could light up a town.  The story of these two continues.  As she puts on a happy act, he falls deeper into her suction of lies.  Once her plastic smiles fades into a frown, she is soon in the search for a new stage: a new man.  She finds herself falling in love with another. He is broken into a million pieces of pain. The relationship with this other does not last.  Her heart breaks but guess who is waiting for her arms open wide.  She runs into his arms as she pictures the other's face on him.  He does not realize the pain he's in for.  Again she claims that the love that holds inside of her was always his love but she only says that out of the fear of the word "lonely" I always told him to listen to his heart, only at this point I wish I hadn't told him that.  He took her in as if she was a lost puppy looking for love.  Yes, she was looking for love but never will she ever really want his love.  She may want his company, the love was the catch.  This was not the first time that she played around in his mind of unsure thoughts.  For years and years did she play this game but never was he willing to give up.  Never will he consider putting the white flag on his door.  He is ready to play the game with no ending.  He is ready to play the game with no prize.  She on the other hand will also play this game yet in the end, she will probably be the one to lose her own game.  I know I'd bet on that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-7981365881248767723?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/7981365881248767723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/03/let-games-begin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/7981365881248767723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/7981365881248767723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/03/let-games-begin.html' title='Let The Games Begin.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-5688689272374170496</id><published>2010-03-25T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T16:41:32.991-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Appreciate It.</title><content type='html'>It bothers me how much kids nowadays ( included myself ) takes almost everything for granted.  Most of everything that we own is a privilege.  Those who say they would "die without their phone" You know as well as I do that it definitely not be the end of the world if that one possession is taken from you.  You think that you'd die without that? Think twice.  Not trying to sound like everyone else but people around the world would kill to even eat at least one meal a day.  It may sound so typical for me to say but it is true.  Trust me, some of you may not understand what it is like to be on the other side of this situation.  Coming from someone who has been a victim of poverty, it really is not fun.  While you guys were wondering what to wear the next day, I found myself wondering if we had anymore food at home.  I'm saying this not for sympathy, I say it out of empathy for the people who have also been in that situation.  It really is not fun.  I am not trying to say throw away what you have because other people do not have it.  Just trying to make people understand that you should be thankful for everything you have.  Now that my life has gotten better, I know I take plenty of things for granted but I realize my mistakes.  Some people just really do not give two shits and I understand that but sometimes we got to look at things from a different perspective.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-5688689272374170496?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/5688689272374170496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/03/appreciate-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5688689272374170496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5688689272374170496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/03/appreciate-it.html' title='Appreciate It.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-173585923190992309</id><published>2010-03-16T21:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T21:33:35.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's the trust at?</title><content type='html'>I hate it how my parents think so low of me.  I can honestly say that compared to so many people, I am a freaking angel freal .. They really do not know me at all.  It seems they paint pictures in their minds of what they think I'm doing when I am out.  Yeah maybe there are some things that I do that I shouldn't be but their light.  Its not like I go out on the street putting the worth of my body into dollars.  That is not me.  To be honest, when I tell you I am going to square one, I AM FUCKING GOING TO SQUARE ONE.. They should know that I wasn't raised a liar, then again I feel like they didn't even raise me.  You aren't Picasso, stop painting pictures in your minds of who you think I am.  I  pretty much do all of what I am asked of yet I get treated as if I've been doing bad things all my life.  I never had the chance to prove to them how good of a person I am,  I started off with no trust at all and it remains the same until this day.  I know that when they let me out they are contemplating whether or not to believe the "lie" I am telling them.  Not to be cocky or anything but I am like the daughter that people wish they had.  I do what they say.  There might be some loafting but I end up doing it any fkn ways.  I hardly lie.  They make it seem as if I lie on the regs which is defs not true.  I may bend the truth now and then but I am a fucking teenager, I can't live in the box parents expect their child to be in.  I should be praised by my parents but in stead they search for ways to yell or get mad at me for.  I know my parents love and care for me but a little trust would be nice now and then .. That's the truth. &lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-173585923190992309?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/173585923190992309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/03/wheres-trust-at.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/173585923190992309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/173585923190992309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/03/wheres-trust-at.html' title='Where&apos;s the trust at?'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-6727891172161834953</id><published>2010-03-08T19:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T19:30:47.868-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Religion Vs. Morals</title><content type='html'>Religion is a topic that I think about a lot because for every action that I make, I have to think about the religious consequence AND the consequence of the real world.  Sometimes you lose your personal morals due to religious beliefs and that messes up the person that I am &amp;amp; the person I am building.  I believe that sex doesn't have to be before marriage, as long as you love each other but the bible tells me otherwise.  Saying that makes it seems as though I am not being faithful to my religion but saying otherwise makes it seem as though I am not being truthful to myself.  Is there a right answer?  Are we given a brain to listen to what we are told or are we given a brain to make decisions on our own? I feel like I've been put in a lose-lose situation which no easy way out. That is not the only lose-lose situation that religion vs. morals put many people through.  Like masturbation .. it is said that it is a healthy thing and is good for people to do. Yet in the bible it is said that it is better to cut off your hand (that you use to sin) than have your whole body burn (in hell) .. Makes life hard noh?  Should we be truthful to ourselves or faithful to our religion?  ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-6727891172161834953?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/6727891172161834953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/03/relgion-vs-morals.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/6727891172161834953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/6727891172161834953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/03/relgion-vs-morals.html' title='Religion Vs. Morals'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-963690764632188403</id><published>2010-02-26T18:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T19:11:48.482-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brief and Un-detailed Version of My Life.</title><content type='html'>During the fifteen years of my life, I have learned many things.  Struggles have taught me to suck up my tears and deal with the fact that nothing is or ever will be perfect.  As a matter of fact, I've learned to deal with it pretty well.  Every time the world seems to be going well, I have to remind myself that nothing in this world goes without consequence.  Remembering that usually comes off as a negative thing because I just wait for something bad to happen.  The last time  my world seemed to be put in a position closest to perfection, I was in for the worst ride ever.  Times were definitely hard.  From broken families to family shelters.  We traded the best of the best for the worst of the worst.  It seemed as if it was our fate to be riding on an unusual roller coaster.  It starts out boring looking for excitement and you bring loved ones as you go higher along, trying to find thrill in a new adventure.  As you get higher, some loved ones by your side every step of the way.  At the top, you find more and more people clinging on to you, finding you as their pathway to the top.  To stay at the top these people seems to act as if they are supporters when a only a child can see right through their phony eyes.  We were at the top looking down to the envious people as they smiled and schemed a way to bring us down.  Parents enjoyed this as they thought that this was the climax of their story when really it is only their inciting incident.  They trusted all those clingers and so called supporters.  You would have witnessed gullibility at its worst.  They acted as though everyone had go intentions not knowing that they were Julius Caesar while the rest of the people around them were conspirators.  The conspirators are the ones pushed us down the roller coaster forcing us to endure the pain and the horrible feeling you get.  A short blink of the eye and you found us at the bottom, struggling to even take one more breath.  Suddenly those people who were with us at the top and those we came with us to the top were no where to be found.  The people whom we called reliable and trustworthy were gone, no hands  were offered in our times of need.  The people who did help did it with evil eyes and hatred who did it out of guilt not out of will.  I thank them for them for their guilt because in all truth we probably would have been dead. Really.  The reward they will be getting would probably be a large one seeing as though I practically owe them my life even though they seemed as though help was not their intention.  Getting back up the roller coaster has been a struggle but it seems to be some what better than the "perfect" life.  It is much easier now to spot the truthful and the loyal.  It is much easier to focus on the more important details in life like family and being together.  Now you do not have to wonder about why people are in your life.  All these roadblocks and obstacles taught me many things that I know I have to apply to my life now and the future life I am going to have.  I just need to learn to stop looking for the worst in every situation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-963690764632188403?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/963690764632188403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/02/brief-and-un-detailed-version-of-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/963690764632188403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/963690764632188403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/02/brief-and-un-detailed-version-of-my.html' title='Brief and Un-detailed Version of My Life.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-2381907631371385364</id><published>2010-02-01T21:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T21:54:21.582-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Try and Crack My Shell</title><content type='html'>I hate how my mind and heart don`t open up to anyone other than the people who have been around for a long time.  I can`t share stories or even just tell you what happened in my day.  With me, it takes a lot to gain even a pinch of my trust.  It takes a lot even just to get me to talk to you .. like actually talk to you.  Conversations die fast with me, and then when someone trys to keep that conversation up with questions .. I get annoyed.  I am a confused little piece of crap, and I know that.  God bless the person who will try to crack my shell, cause your efforts will become failures. I honestly wish that I was the type of person that could share with anyone having no trust issues, cause I feel distant from eveyone.  While people are getting to know each other, I am here just waiting for a chance to leave.  Help me Lord. That`s the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-2381907631371385364?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/2381907631371385364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/02/try-and-crack-my-shell.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/2381907631371385364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/2381907631371385364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/02/try-and-crack-my-shell.html' title='Try and Crack My Shell'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-3310474870816756740</id><published>2010-02-01T21:33:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T21:46:27.554-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Can Wait.</title><content type='html'>I find myself blank these days. No emotion, no thoughts.  I feel like a damn robot sometimes.  When people tell me stories, I get the feeling they want me to share too. One problem, I have nothing to say..  All I can do it listen. Clearly, my life sucks. AHA . I just listen to music and learn lyrics to fill the empty-ness in my head.  I can't say I am happy, nor can I say that I am sad. Life is okay. Actually life is pretty good, it's just when I see other people's lives,  I look down on mine. &lt;br /&gt;Well a complete life to me is having ya fam be all good, ya mains by your side, a place to sleep, food to eat and a man to fill your heart. I have four out of five, yet I feel like a significant part of me is missing. Does that make sense?  But I am scared to have it all because I know that having the best life, does not last. I've lived most of my life, waiting for the worst to happen. It may sound stupid but it is the truth. I let happiness pass by because I'd rather keep the chance of pain at its low.  That`s the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-3310474870816756740?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/3310474870816756740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-can-wait.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3310474870816756740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3310474870816756740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-can-wait.html' title='I Can Wait.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-658022344391375194</id><published>2010-01-31T20:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T21:01:37.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>YA GIRLS</title><content type='html'>Doesn't loneliness bother you?  I may not have a &lt;u&gt;"man"&lt;/u&gt; in my life, but I am definitely not alone.  Doesn't every girl need their girls? You may have some close guy friends but life without them is manageable. Your girls are your girls .. You share secrets, you chill in and out of school. &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;YOU NEED THEM.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  If you're wondering why you don't have any, is probably because you push them away.  If you don't have any, GET SOME.  Trust, life is easier with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;To those who would drop ya girls for a boy, ya'll are dumb.  I can't stress enough how important it is to have them. &lt;b&gt;You're ride or dies aren't ya boyfriends, its ya girls.&lt;/b&gt; Straight, hoes over bros. Not even that, ya need ya HOES and ya bros. But ya hoes are ya hoes, don't forget that.  LOL I read this again, and it sound homo. To clear things up, this was just to make sure the girls know how important it is to have ya girls .. and not to lose sight of the fact that they've been there. Ya girls now, boys later ♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;GIRLFRIEND - NICKI MINAJ&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my BFF, girlfriend [x2]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ayo! Where my bff Where my playboy bunny&lt;br /&gt;Where dat nigga Hugh Hef&lt;br /&gt;When we pull off at da light&lt;br /&gt;Why everything else get left&lt;br /&gt;Why dey screwin' up dey face&lt;br /&gt;Why dey lookin' a hot mess&lt;br /&gt;Why dey be like no they didn't&lt;br /&gt;Them bitches is always shittin'&lt;br /&gt;My clock be tik tik tikin&lt;br /&gt;Them chickens is finga lickin'&lt;br /&gt;And that's why, we do'em greasy&lt;br /&gt;Stunttin in louis vezzy&lt;br /&gt;We straight without a perm&lt;br /&gt;And u bitches are stupid peezy&lt;br /&gt;Would you like some rice with that&lt;br /&gt;We get a lot of cheese no mice with that&lt;br /&gt;I mean I want some ice wit dat&lt;br /&gt;No soda where ya owner give ya license back...hoe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my BFF, girlfriend [x2]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my girlfriend, gigigigi-girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;Don't forget the brush blowdryer and the curlin' iron&lt;br /&gt;That's my girlfriend tell them hoes stoppington&lt;br /&gt;They know they want everything that we be coppington&lt;br /&gt;Wherever I slide thru I gotta go buy two&lt;br /&gt;If I get it in the pink I get her the light blue&lt;br /&gt;Brand new Range Rover that was for her bday&lt;br /&gt;I just auctioned off some shit you can get on ebay&lt;br /&gt;Anyway we VIP we don't even need I.D.&lt;br /&gt;Put'em in the I.C.U If they don't bring the I.C.E&lt;br /&gt;Get them bottles of Rosé and one long island icee tea&lt;br /&gt;Put my bracelet in the mirror I see me I see me&lt;br /&gt;Get it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my BFF, girlfriend [x2]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excuse me there's way too many groupies&lt;br /&gt;Why don't you just sitback or dance&lt;br /&gt;Sorry we don't chit chat wit fans&lt;br /&gt;You came in a Diablo or was it a Gallardo&lt;br /&gt;We got the top down doors up Murciélago&lt;br /&gt;LP460 bitches thats the model&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my This is for my girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;This is for my BFF, girlfriend [x2]&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/3014680696573407495-658022344391375194?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/658022344391375194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/01/doesnt-loneliness-bother-you-i-may-not.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/658022344391375194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/658022344391375194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/01/doesnt-loneliness-bother-you-i-may-not.html' title='YA GIRLS'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-3312510168222044624</id><published>2010-01-31T19:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T20:07:34.065-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Need To Straighten The Fuck Out</title><content type='html'>I feel her drifting away from her mains.  Honestly, I don't think this is the smartest move because in the end all you have is us.  These people you are constantly with, hardly know you. Ya mains are needed, if you keep neglecting the fact that we're here, we will soon neglect the fact that you exist. You once begged for our friendship and now you lie to our faces like we don't matter.  If you feel left out when we talk, its only because you put yourself out.  You suddenly stopped talking and stopped putting yourself into our conversations.  Isolating yourself claiming we leave you out. You leave ya damn self out.  It's just now that you stopped talking.  We'll be talking and I turn around and ya gone. Like, what the fuck? And we always ask you to chill but never do you want to come.  I know that the "I'm not allowed" speech is just a front to cover up the fact that you don't want to come.  ITS OKAY IF YOU DONT WANT TO FUCKING COME.  Saying you dont want come is better than lying to our damn faces noh? Really ... you need straighten the fuck out.  If other friends float ya boat, then the hell with you.  Clearly, you aint a true girl.  You  know we fully asked you to come chill with us and you said "okay ill meet you there" then you roll up with next people, that aint right. If you said "Nah,  I'm going with other people" then that shit is understandable. Then ask you what your doing and you saying "nothing" That is the biggest bitch move.  I'm not planning to start anything, cause you know I'm trying to be drama free and what not, but your just so damnnnnnnnn full of it.&lt;br /&gt;     Also, I hate when you are so damn sad about everything. Like why do you have to be so damn depressed every time we ask you a damn question.  If ya wanna say "No" say fuckinf "NO!" Cause it pisses the fuck out of me when you say "yes" and then have the biggest frown on ya face. Straight, you cheese me.  Ya lucky we don't cut you off. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-3312510168222044624?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/3312510168222044624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/01/you-need-to-straighten-fuck-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3312510168222044624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3312510168222044624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/01/you-need-to-straighten-fuck-out.html' title='You Need To Straighten The Fuck Out'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-9009346889679898216</id><published>2010-01-31T19:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T19:42:28.254-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Louinsky &lt; 3</title><content type='html'>I dont know what it is about Nicki Minaj but I fucking love her off.  Her songs are the only ones I've been listening to for the past couple of days.  She's so real and gitty and cute.  She annihilates everyone rapper who spits on the same track.  Lyrically crazy with the sickest flow.  She makes me want to become a rapper knowing I can't rap.  Nicki Minaj is truly the baddest in the game, straight. That's the truth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/S2ZNZMyUOkI/AAAAAAAAABg/G1zl20JzfBQ/s1600-h/NickiMinaj.png"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/S2ZNZMyUOkI/AAAAAAAAABg/G1zl20JzfBQ/s400/NickiMinaj.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433115095793416770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/3014680696573407495-9009346889679898216?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/9009346889679898216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/01/louinsky-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/9009346889679898216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/9009346889679898216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2010/01/louinsky-3.html' title='Louinsky &lt; 3'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/S2ZNZMyUOkI/AAAAAAAAABg/G1zl20JzfBQ/s72-c/NickiMinaj.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-7893877476722945406</id><published>2009-12-26T10:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T10:29:29.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I hate my blog. So immmmma be off this for a while, well I've been off this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-7893877476722945406?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/7893877476722945406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-hate-my-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/7893877476722945406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/7893877476722945406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-hate-my-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-1241708250032429920</id><published>2009-11-29T17:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T18:16:58.151-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It takes two to tango, one to take my breath away.</title><content type='html'>It seems like people don't appreciate things in our lives as much as we should.  At least that's what I thought.  Yesterday I watched my cousin get married.  It was a small wedding, really small, really unorganized, little people.  The wedding was far from extravagant.  Usually, a girl lives for the wedding of her dreams.  What was in my head the whole time was "What kind of wedding is this?" Until, I balling her eyes out with tears.  Tears of joy that is.  I was so shocked at the fact that in her eyes it was one of the best days of her life.  I was confused for quite some time about that.  This wedding couldn't have been any girl's dream yet she was intoxicated with joy.  It made me want to grow to be like her.  Joyful and appreciative of everything I have.  No matter how little the materials she built a life for herself with nothing but love.  Her husband had no family at all present on one of the most important days of his life yet he was satisfied.  The love that I see there is real and I hope that my future also contains days of complete and utter joy.&lt;br /&gt;That's the truth. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/SxMqq6ofChI/AAAAAAAAABQ/CB0XREws7QA/s1600/451.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 176px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/SxMqq6ofChI/AAAAAAAAABQ/CB0XREws7QA/s200/451.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409714494184032786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-1241708250032429920?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/1241708250032429920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-takes-two-to-tango-one-to-take-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/1241708250032429920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/1241708250032429920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-takes-two-to-tango-one-to-take-my.html' title='It takes two to tango, one to take my breath away.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/SxMqq6ofChI/AAAAAAAAABQ/CB0XREws7QA/s72-c/451.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-1367391520148465558</id><published>2009-11-18T14:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T15:04:04.138-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Turn it off.</title><content type='html'>Its weird how something can start off tiny and expand before you could even begin to understand what just happend. There isn't anytime in between to press that undo button, or say something different. You cannot even comprehend the shit thats going on yet the trouble gets bigger. Things that weren't supposed to happend escalates and becomes something even worse then you ever thought of. Its like everything was good and then you blinked. Everything is different now, its like adapting to a new scene after living a different one. You know its a sad thing yet say you dont care.&lt;br /&gt;Life is weird like that.&lt;br /&gt;A part of you may think that things will pass over but another part of you says that its the end. As you comtemplate whether that may be a good thing, people around you make judgements. Judgements about the things that spread around like the H1n1 flu. You wish you can tell them the truth but it could make things worse.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it feels like its time to just stop all of it but you can never get the guts to fix it. The right thing to do isn't always the choice you want to make. No matter how much easier life would after we have done it, we choose the harder path. Its seems like the world is filled with stubborn people. That includes me. These people are ones who'd rather go hard. Which makes things difficult. Especially when you are dealing with 2 or more of these people. Every night they would think about their next move, yet don't make it. They don't want to come off as "soft" or the one that gave in. It makes no sense from an outside perspective but it seems correct to us. T&lt;br /&gt;he point of this is we should all just forget. Drop things. Stop making problems bigger than they appear to be. It doesnt make sense, you just created a more difficult lifestyle for everyone. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-1367391520148465558?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/1367391520148465558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/tired-of-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/1367391520148465558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/1367391520148465558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/tired-of-it.html' title='Turn it off.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-5789598683319727138</id><published>2009-11-11T18:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T18:52:12.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm tired of watching the show.</title><content type='html'>"I get that im his ex and we've been through rough times.. and it's like, he's just talking shit. like, oh i'm going to know you for the rest of my life?but don't i deserve respect to be treated as a friend even? like i'm sorry.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its time you learned a little respect young one. When someone cares about you, you can't push them off to the side all the time. You have to realize that this person cares for your self-centered ass. All those times you need help or just needed someone to talk to, she was there. And you have the nerve to say rude things or ignore that fact that she's tryna talk to you. She used to be the most important part of your life and now she's the sideline girl waiting until you need something from her. It really isn't fair. You said things like "I'm gonna know you a long time" Yet don't have the decency to act like you want her around. The things you do know, you are going to regret for sure in the future. Once this girl gets sick of being treated like ass (LOL) shes gonna drop you. Just like I've been telling her to do since time. You are gonna beg for forgiveness and she's gonna do all the shit you've been doing to her. I love the boths of you but this shit is getting old. Hearing you guys fight to try and get my side. I know what I believe now and no one can push me in either direction. The girl has paid for her mistakes and its time for you to fess up to yours and man up. Turn your wrongs right before its too late faggets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She Aint A Doll, This Aint A Dollhouse, Your Way Too Old To Be Playing Around Like this (8)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the motherfucking truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-5789598683319727138?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/5789598683319727138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-tired-of-watching-show.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5789598683319727138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5789598683319727138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-tired-of-watching-show.html' title='I&apos;m tired of watching the show.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-7903183252993613693</id><published>2009-11-09T17:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T17:29:05.249-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Would A Bag Over My Head Would Be Easier?</title><content type='html'>It's sad how people tend to pick out the flaws first. No matter how many good qualities you may possess, the first thing a person will see is the little pimple under your chin. I hate to say it but I am guilty of this bad quality.&lt;br /&gt;I wish that when we meet people, we smile without judgement.&lt;br /&gt;It sucks feeling that at every second you are with another being, you are being judged on how you look. Sometimes I feel like putting a bag over my face when I plan to go out. It would probably make the situation worse, and create even more judgement bur that still seems like it would be easier. Most girls spent plenty of time, fixing themselves. Perfecting the imperfections. Bags over your face sounds like way less work.&lt;br /&gt;I think people should start seeing each other with blind eyes. Finding out about someone without having the chance to pick out the flaws. I want to be able to meet someone and not care about how people look. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-7903183252993613693?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/7903183252993613693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/would-bag-over-my-head-would-be-easier.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/7903183252993613693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/7903183252993613693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/would-bag-over-my-head-would-be-easier.html' title='Would A Bag Over My Head Would Be Easier?'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-4213702122684049453</id><published>2009-11-04T16:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T16:07:23.548-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NURSING HOMES.</title><content type='html'>AYYYY ,&lt;br /&gt;Okay so today was "Take Your Kid To Work Day."&lt;br /&gt;Original plans were to &lt;a href="mailto:chill@home"&gt;chill@home&lt;/a&gt; but I felt like that wasn't fun. LOL!&lt;br /&gt;My mom doesn't have work today so I went with RMONTES and her mom. Shes a nurse at a nursing home. OH MY LORSH, that is the creepiest place ever. We had to "socialize" with the residents and they kept repeating the same damn thing every 2 seconds. Its like "Kim", I go "Yes" And they'll be like "Its cold outside" And then 2 seconds later "Kim, its cold outside"&lt;br /&gt;I know its a disease and shit but omy. Its pretty funny but we werent allowed to laugh. &amp;amp; then theres some next guys who just stare at you. Then the rude ones, and then the very sweet ones. I could NEVER EVER work in that place ever in my life. Today wasn't that bad but I couldn't do it on a daily basis. Meeting new people was fun and the cultural tinng. Live in a boring way. Later on, we ended up at sq like a typical asians. MACPICS. How typical asian of an asian. LOL! Of course, we find the Romanos chilllling with Dany (L) Chilled then dippped. &amp;amp; that was my day!&lt;br /&gt;That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-4213702122684049453?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/4213702122684049453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/nursing-homes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/4213702122684049453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/4213702122684049453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/nursing-homes.html' title='NURSING HOMES.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-1597527488415316208</id><published>2009-11-02T15:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T15:26:57.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'>For the broken hearted.</title><content type='html'>Seeing girls in pain over a guy sickens me. First of all, you're too young to be hurting like that. Secondly no one is worth it, no matter how much you "think" you love him. The attraction might've been there, but it is NOT love. It takes more than the three words to create a relationship. Do not let a tear fall from your face. Do not let jealousy take over. This actually goes for the fellas too. Show everyone that your not pathetic, show them the strength that hasn't been showing. The pain you feel is all in your head. Turn that pain into strength. Think of it as a lesson learned. Leave it as a reminder of what not to do. Your heart hurts? Maybe. Is it broken?No. Life is way too short to be wasting it on next people. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-1597527488415316208?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/1597527488415316208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/for-broken-hearted.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/1597527488415316208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/1597527488415316208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/for-broken-hearted.html' title='For the broken hearted.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-2494419932383662448</id><published>2009-11-02T12:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T12:50:37.962-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's the point?</title><content type='html'>I'm scared to be happy again because that joy eventually turns into sorrow. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-2494419932383662448?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/2494419932383662448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/whats-point.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/2494419932383662448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/2494419932383662448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/whats-point.html' title='What&apos;s the point?'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-832131917646326264</id><published>2009-11-01T17:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T17:20:33.005-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bitch Is Back!</title><content type='html'>OKAY ! &lt;br /&gt;I put my blog back up (Y)&lt;br /&gt;I realized I get bored easily, this blog keeps me out of my misery. Miss this shit freeeal!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     It's Sunday and I must say, Halloween weekend wasn't bad. It wasn't as bad as last year at &lt;a href="mailto:Playback@Playdium"&gt;Playback@Playdium&lt;/a&gt;. The rebels came out that night. From the jam Jessica's parents didnt know about to the underage drinking to the sneaking out in the early morning. Good times with the girls. We're slick like that, yennnno? : ) The jam we held wasnt great but wasnt bad. It started out soft then it got better but had a bad ending. I feel like I'm rambling about non-sense so I'm off this but I promise the next shits I write will have a point! LOL! That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-832131917646326264?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/832131917646326264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/bitch-is-back.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/832131917646326264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/832131917646326264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/11/bitch-is-back.html' title='The Bitch Is Back!'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-3413963660621149497</id><published>2009-09-15T17:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T17:47:57.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Girls who wear make-up  vs. Cake faces.</title><content type='html'>Okay so I absolutley hate when people call girls who wear make-up cake faces. Enhancing your face to achieve inner beauty, isn't wrong. Girls are now in a lose-lose situation because if they wear make-up, they are portrayed as "try hards, cake faces, sluts" and then when they do not wear make-up, they find people picking out the little imperfections on their faces. Why is everyone so judgemental these days? Can't people do what makes them happy without people causing them troubles? Some girls wear make-up for themselves, for them to like how they look. Saying that media is influencing us may be true but saying it doesn't change what the media has already planted in our brains. May sound stupid but its true. Give us girls some breathing room, let us find ourselves on our own. If wearing make-up is a stage in the process, let us fucking be man.&lt;br /&gt;For those who use the term "Cake Face," make sure you know the difference between a girl who wears make-up and a "Cake Face" A Cake Face is a someone who wears make-up to the extent that it makes them look like a clown. Get it fucking right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-3413963660621149497?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/3413963660621149497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/09/girls-who-wear-make-up-vs-cake-faces.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3413963660621149497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3413963660621149497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/09/girls-who-wear-make-up-vs-cake-faces.html' title='Girls who wear make-up  vs. Cake faces.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-113406242803256533</id><published>2009-09-03T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T19:27:13.075-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Until the end.</title><content type='html'>It is weird seeing something that was once so strong break right in front of your eyes. Seeing two people with the most love for each other. And then you blink, and all of a sudden that love you once saw disappears. The love now replaced with anger and hate. Well that is what they try to show everyone. When you know, love is still there. You watch them spit rude comments at each other indirectly but know it is all out of love. You know that they couldn't live without each other. Their brains and body may still be in progress but their hearts are fully grown. Love is blind. They act as if all there is, is hate towards each other. The fights may be good though to help them grow and learn. Though they may claim they have found someone else, I do not believe that they will ever feel how they feel about another, the way they feel for each other. When the war of their love is over, I want to look back at this moment and yell in their faces saying "I KNEW IT!" Who says that love stories don't happen. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-113406242803256533?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/113406242803256533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/09/until-end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/113406242803256533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/113406242803256533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/09/until-end.html' title='Until the end.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-6436877101691043750</id><published>2009-09-02T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T15:23:54.219-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Facebook Profile Analysis.</title><content type='html'>You have 530 friends, 410 more than average. 50% are male, 50% are female. 247 are single, 104 are dating or married. If you contracted a deadly variant of flu, you would likely infect 13 people, 2 of whom would die. If you died today, an estimated 565 people would try to attend your funeral. Based on your Facebook profile, you have a 93% probability of getting married. You are likely to earn US$1.8 million and have 2.5 children over your lifetime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That could be the truth. LOL!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-6436877101691043750?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/6436877101691043750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/09/facebook-profile-analysis.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/6436877101691043750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/6436877101691043750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/09/facebook-profile-analysis.html' title='Facebook Profile Analysis.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-8225397890451605437</id><published>2009-08-31T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T22:22:40.260-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HOP OFF MY CLIT BITCH!</title><content type='html'>This is my blog and I just want everyone to see this. Remember, WE AINT BITCHES, WE JUST KNOW &amp;amp; SPEAK THE TRUTH! If you don't agree, well that is because you do not know the whole story. (Names where changed because I didn't feel like fully exposing the girl)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She:&lt;br /&gt;"Treat others the way you want to be treated"I used to think I did that . How awfully cocky of me, noh ? But the truth was .. I didn't .I'M SORRY .We haven't talked in so long .. you don't even know .. I miss you so much, NOHOMO . LOL . But really .. what i've said, what i've done .. i'm taking full blame now .. I'm admitting it . Honestly, my behavior was inexcusable . On any terms . I'm making no excuses to whatsoever i did . I know what i did was stupid . What i said was stupid . But i realized that .. i realized that . Then this whole month .. which was probably the WORST month of my entire life . I'm telling you .. it was so hard .. Dick and Jane getting together and shit, like him dropping me . Then i got into a fight with alot of you guys .. and i had some self issues too . I was at the brink of killing myself . But you know what ? I'm not saying that for sympathy anymore .. I used to . I'm actually learning to be independant now, and i actually like it . You do not know how many harsh words were spat on my face .. and the whole time, i thought i was getting punished; that everyone was just picking on me . &amp;amp; I kept asking for a second chance . And you know what ? I never deserved it . I realize that now .. I'm working hard Kim, I really am now .. I'm not gunna sit around in my fckn house waiting for a hard miracle to happen . I learned that, I'M the only one that can make that happen, with the help of God .LOL, i know you don't want to hear about my shit right now .. but honestly .. it feels good to say . And you were one of the people that changed the way i thought Kim . Even though we haven't talked in over a month .. yer silence, and my thinking of what you would say to me at every moment for me thinking .. Alot .This note, wasn't me asking.. for you to call me up right after you read this .. but just a second chance .. just forgiveness .. It's such a burden on my back now ..I really do miss you .. and if you read up to this part, ILOVEYOUOFF :) &amp;amp;thanks for actually giving me yer time . 4 years we've been good friends Kim .. FOUR years . We've gone through hell and back.. We're stronger than this,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;br /&gt;HOP OFF MY SWAG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buddy, quit wasting your time. Clearly, I do not want to converse with you. But you're forcing yourself on my, like a dog. You are seeing past the reason why we do not like you. We aren't mad at you, we just really do not like you. They tell us to drop the people who are not doing any good in your life. You may have the outside world fooled with your good girl act but I am not going to stand here and watch you lure people into your trap. This may be harsh but you need to know this. When I see you, I see that little bitch that used to critisize everything I did, who used to laugh at my pain. Those may not have been recent things but I truly believe that people never change. You're vocabulary and the words that come out of your dutty mouth may have grown up but your mind and heart are the same. For many years, I have blinded by your availablity. So blinded that I ignored the times you belittled me. It may have not been directly but it was there. I am sick and tired of being compared to you. Compared to someone that has been slowly stealing my identity. Slowly but surely you take one bit of me and make it your own. In any other case, I would probably say "Be Yourself" But if "yourself" is a self-centered, narrow minded, evil hearted, I really do not want to have anything to do with you. Those four years meant nothing because I honestly wasn't in the state to be judging anyone. I was miserable, which gave you an advantage. I was too messed up to see who you really are. I'm proud to say I'm dropping you now. Some advice, find some friends that will except your demonic self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She:&lt;br /&gt;All I ever wanted to say was I'm sorry . I never laughed at your pain. How would any of you know that my mind and heart are the same? You guys never gave anyone a chance to prove anything to you guys. I never, in any intention, belittled you; because what would my reason be to do so? I'm tired of being compared to you too, but that's just it. We were always similar. And why now, have the comparisons come in show? Your identity? That's all yours, i did not intend nor do intend to steal what's yours. We are just similar, don't think that I had some plan to make who you are, myself. Those four years meant nothing to you? Wow.. you can just throw away a friendship just like that? After all we've been through. Who I really am? Do you really know who that is? After one mistake that I've done.. everyone makes it seem as if they've got me all figured out. Tell me, haven't you ever made a mistake? Haven't you ever fallen from grace? It's the past now. It's all in there. What are we supposed to do about it? Relive all those moments? So we can all feel better? We're all learning and growing up. We make mistakes. But why give such harsh consequences for it? I've seen others, and you guys make mistakes; but you don't give up that easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;br /&gt;"After one mistake that I've done"&lt; That is just it. It may have been one mistake but when the mistake is repeated, that is another story. Have I fallen from grace? Yes. Just as anyone. But unlike you, I know how to get back up again. Before I came to Siena, you were your own person. And not matter how bitch it was, people accepted you. They didn't turn away because you were bitch, they didn't turn away because you were REAL. Now you hide behind your intellegence and Christian acts. Shying away from the real you. I see you at home and the rude things that come out of you and your sister's mouths. You always aim to be the best, and I understand that but you have to realize who you were stepping on to get that far. As you climbed to perfection, you showed everyone else how smart they will never be. You insulted your own bad grades when they were better than ours. So indirectly, you insulted us. You don't realize it but this is for the better. Mostly for us, but you'll get your share too. We may not know everything about you, but we have years of proof that backs up our reasoning for dropping you. I feel like a self-absorbed person when I say this but I feel like you are intimidated by me. We are not similiar. Apperance-wise, maybe. But not at heart. I know who I am, and so do the people around me. I do not need to be figured out, you know me by experience. As how I know you. If as a former-bestfriend I don't know you, why are you still questioning why I do not want to be your friend. Stop letting people think you're pathetic, find some new friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She:&lt;br /&gt;No, it's always been one mistake. It's always been. I just never experienced it like this. You know how to get up from your fall from grace, while I'm learning, I'm still LEARNING. We all have our own time for everything, and this is mine now; so why I am I getting the harsh consequences for MY time?How would you know how I was before you came to Siena.. ? I don't hide behind my intelligence and Christian acts, that's part of who I am. Why do you always bring up the past? That was the past. I already know better about that now, and I do not do that anymore. For the better? How would you know that, already? You have years of proof, of my mistakes; or bad times. But you also have years of proof of good times, of when I got back up again. I am intimidated by you, I always was. Whatever I did, you were always there.. to be compared to. But I never let that come in the way. Yes, we are similar. But maybe, you're done with knowing and accepting who you are. But we're all different, we all have our own time. How come you can't accept that this is mine?I'm learning and trying.. day by day. But nobody ever sees my effort..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;br /&gt;We've been letting all your bullshit slide for the past couple of years and we're tired of if. I do not even think I need to explain myself to you. You have a brain to figure this all out. You claim that the actions you display are a part of you, when they are not. I honestly see past that, I see to the point where I just do NOT want you in my life. The past may be the past but that doesn't mean it didn't happened. The only reason you got back up from the times that you fell is because we pushed you and as you can see, we are fucking tired of it. It seems like this friendship has too much baggage that we aren't willing to carry. Similar? No. Stop saying that. I am nothing like, nor do I ever want to be. We have given enough chances for you to prove yourself so do not try and say that we haven't. As you can see, we probably aren't good friends. All your little efforts are going to waste because we are not going to sit around waiting for you. By the way, we are not trying to change you. We are in not position to do that so we have come to our own conclusion. That if we cannot accept who you are, we really just don't need you. Find people who care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She:&lt;br /&gt;As I have said, all I ever wanted to say was I'm sorry.I'm sorry that our friendship.. of four fucking years, has gone to waste now. I thought that you were going to be the best friend for life, the one that stood by me through everything. The one that stayed.. even after the bad times.And by the way, after all these years; how come you never really confronted me about how you felt? You couldn't tell me one thing.. about this, you throw all this at my face now. How was I supposed to know what was going on in your head about me? I would have listened to you, and you probably knew that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;br /&gt;I guess you were wrong, I'm done with you. If I continue to put up with you, I am going against what I know I should do. I got enough friends. Losing one isn't that big to me. Though it sounds harsh, it is true. I explained that earlier, I was blinded by your availability. Do you not rememeber the times we get mad at you? Are you just playing dumb or are you just really dumb? What better time to tell you the truth than now? You need to figure things out on your own, I'm tired of explaining myself to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She:&lt;br /&gt;What you should do? Wow.. That really shows what kind of person you are, and how much worth your friends right now have to you. You're not afraid to lose them.Availability? What is that supposed to mean? So, you make it seem as if I'm the one that made all the fucken mistakes. But I did something about it when you guys got mad at me! You never give me the benefit of the doubt. How am I supposed to figure the things that are in you guys' heads? About me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;br /&gt;Well I guess it does. At least I know what kind of person I am. Actually that shows how much worth I gave you. When I said losing "one" isn't that big to me, THAT "one" is you. It doesn't apply to anyone else but you. You are like the person that is never busy, the one to call on when everyone else is busy. That is what I mean by availability. We forgave all those times because you annoyed us 'til we did. You don't need to figure us out anymore because WE OUT! Go figure yourself out bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-8225397890451605437?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/8225397890451605437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/response.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/8225397890451605437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/8225397890451605437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/response.html' title='HOP OFF MY CLIT BITCH!'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-7770894169293975241</id><published>2009-08-31T21:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T22:20:27.735-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend Report.</title><content type='html'>WHADUP WHADUP?&lt;br /&gt;Alright so this is how my weekend went,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friday:&lt;/strong&gt; From what I remember, I stayed home that day. YOUTUBING :) I also watch "Wizards of Waverly Place" The movie. Cutest thang yet. I idolize Alex Russo, in several ways. I think that was it. LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Saturday: &lt;/strong&gt;So, this day was whack from start to end. Chanel and I made plans to wake up at 10am, get ready then be out by 11am. Well of course, I was tired so I said let's just wake up at 11am because Jessica changed the party time to start @ 4pm . So thats what we did. I got up and ready, set off to Chanels. We waited for the bus for so damn long. But no matter where me and Chanel are, we make it LIVE! :) Okay so I got to thinking that the party was gon be flop. We cancelled, planned to go to Imperial, cancelled that. Ended up sticking to the original plans. I cleaned Jessica's room, fixed shit up. We all ran to Wal-Mart to get some food (Y) From there to Dollarama. We got back to see James, Ron, Kevin and Erwin chilling on her driveway. I set the shit up. &amp;amp; Jessica and Chanel ditched me, leaving me to entertain the boys. Crystal came next and refused to come down to the basement. When Karen came, she did the same. I left the boys to decorate, which was a mistake but pretty funny. They played FlipCup with 7up. LOL! Ashley came next? Kisha already knew about the "Surprise Party" So instead of playing along, Chanel and Jessica end up spilling. So I was like whatever, just get your asses here. And then yee, Chris and Stef came. Chris collected the money, did it up. Came back in like an hour with the juice. We were just chillling and shit, then BAM! We were all gone. LOL ! Crazy ass night but I must say it was live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sunday: &lt;/strong&gt;Woke up feeling like shit. I felt like I needed to vomit, but it didnt happened. Me and Jess shared what we remember about Saturday night. Chilled then I went to church with Jessicas mom and then she dropped me home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it &amp;amp; That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-7770894169293975241?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/7770894169293975241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/weekend-report_31.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/7770894169293975241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/7770894169293975241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/weekend-report_31.html' title='Weekend Report.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-5173228731503334168</id><published>2009-08-31T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T21:55:55.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How old are you?</title><content type='html'>I wonder why kids are so eager to grow up. Myself as an example, my life is going great. Why do I have the temptations to do "grown-up" activites? And no, I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about, getting jobs, partying wildly, having relationships. We are all TOO mature for our ages. We should all be at home watching Pokemon and playing house. LOL! But honestly, why are we fast-forwarding our lives? My maturity is oblivious compared to the children I see or hear about. Those little ones running around shamelessly as they use their bodies as if it is insignifigant. Is it wrong to think that is horrible? And then other ones repeat their parents calling those cancer sticks (cigarettes) a stress relief system. Is it wrong to want to change them? Is this what having fun has to be like? Smoking, Sex, Drugs. If that is what growning up is, I'd rather be 14 fovever. And what happened to the old school, dancing, laughing, story telling, just chilling? Can we have fun without seeking the thrill of the wrong? That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-5173228731503334168?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/5173228731503334168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-old-are-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5173228731503334168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5173228731503334168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-old-are-you.html' title='How old are you?'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-2432527740025953962</id><published>2009-08-28T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T21:30:47.839-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mixed Up.</title><content type='html'>I have all these mixed feelings inside me that is almost impossible to explain. I've attempted to write this blog about 50 times in the week. I'd write a paragraph, erase, write again. It's weird. because I don't know what its about. Right before this, a paragraph just came about of no where.&lt;br /&gt;It was about a girl that begged and yelled for mercy for a sin she did not comit. As she pleaded, people watched as if she was yelling in silence. People argued in their own heads on whether to help her. Other times I write about how I feel empty in so many ways. Somehow, I always end up talking about being alone. Somedays, its about my dreams. And now, I'm talking about everything. I get so caught up in my words that I'm not even staying on topic. It pissed me off because, I love writing. I feel uncapable of writing something meaningful. When writing, I always aim to ensure my readers are not reading some random shit but it seems like that is all that is coming out of my head. I just wanted to get that out. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-2432527740025953962?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/2432527740025953962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-have-all-these-mixed-feelings-inside.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/2432527740025953962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/2432527740025953962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-have-all-these-mixed-feelings-inside.html' title='Mixed Up.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-5970661219884473518</id><published>2009-08-28T20:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T21:30:27.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ADD UP BABE.</title><content type='html'>Aright, I'm just chillin like Wale &amp;amp; Lady Gaga.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; I JUST WANNA SAY:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;adddddd my new msn:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:ktorrijas@live.com"&gt;ktorrijas@live.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-5970661219884473518?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/5970661219884473518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/aright-im-just-chillin-like-wale-lady.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5970661219884473518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5970661219884473518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/aright-im-just-chillin-like-wale-lady.html' title='ADD UP BABE.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-32308572270783018</id><published>2009-08-20T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T11:07:03.418-07:00</updated><title type='text'>beliefs.</title><content type='html'>God — The Father, The Son, The Holy Spirit. They preach to us about Him, share thoughts about Him. They tell us to believe in Him with all our hearts. And we try, no matter how hard it may be, we try. No matter how badly we want to put our whole hearts into it, there is always that percentage of doubt. We might not like to say it but you know it's true. We really are not worth whatever He has in store for us in the future. During the day, we decieve Him by doing the things He tells us not to do and then at night we pray to Him asking for forgiveness. This soon becomes a routine. Decieve, then ask for fogiveness. They say Christians don't have as much fun as those whom are not of the same religion. I have to agree with those who say that because our life is based on rules. Not that I am complaining but it is hard to keep up. I would not change what I believe in but I just wanted people to see what I see. It is hard to always live by what people tell you to do. God tells you to be like Jesus, act as if you were Him. Honestly, that may be impossible. To act a certain way and say the right things to the right people. It gets a little tiring. That might make a number of people, including God, happy but sometimes the right thing doesn't make you happy. That sounds pretty whack but it is true. Let's say you took someone's 'toy' that you really really absolutely love. Giving it back is the right thing to do, but are you happy in the end? Not really. Good things may be right but won't nessessarily make you happy.&lt;br /&gt;We are scared to doubt God, but we all know that there is a little bit of doubt deep down. I'm scared by just talking about it. It makes me feel like a non-believer. But that isn't true, no matter how hard it is to keep up with the rules, I try. Somehow, doubt always seems to find me. Occasionally the question pops up in my mind "What if we're trying for nothing?" Everytime it comes up, I attempt to block it with another thought. I'm tired of avoiding it. It is scary thinking about if thats true. Us Christians have been working hard to be a Christian almost all of our lives and if it is for nothing, that would really suck. I believe there is an after life but what if there is isn't?&lt;br /&gt;Then again "What If?" is a tricky question. Like, What if the world ends? What if Chris Brown is gay? You could make a question out of anything with "What if..."&lt;br /&gt;I just really need some help believeing with all my heart. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-32308572270783018?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/32308572270783018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/god-father-son-holy-spirit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/32308572270783018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/32308572270783018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/god-father-son-holy-spirit.html' title='beliefs.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-5330777652576534722</id><published>2009-08-13T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T13:13:47.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To be continued,</title><content type='html'>DISCLAIMER:&lt;br /&gt;I'm just a TINY bit bored, LOL! I have no really deep emotions that I would like to vent about, so I am just going to answer some dumbass questions to keep myself busy.&lt;br /&gt;I wanna add questions but I can't think of any sooooooo I'll do it when I'm bored again : )&lt;br /&gt;___________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;How do you want you're life to be in the end of all the obstacles?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to have a stable environment in which I can raise a family. I want to wake up every morning happy. It may sound more ideal than reality but I believe that I really want it. With perseverance and strength, I can overcome upcoming roadblocks in life. It may sound cheesy but I want a fairytale life. Which includes some Prince Charming that sweeps me off on a horse but then everyone around us trys to pull us off. In the end, we're accepted by the world and make some sexy babies. My sexy family and I, live happily ever after. You know, the normal things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who do you want standing next to you when your dreams come true?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the people who made my those dreams possible. The ones who continued to encourage and support the things that I believed in. And those whom were there to pick my ass up when the hard times knocked me down. Those are the people that I want standing next to me when my dreams come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What do you think people see when they look at you?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to say that people see me as a unique, one of a kind, never will you find again type of girl but I would be lying.  I'm pretty sure that I am seem as the typical teenage girl just trying to get by.  I fall into peer pressure, even though I deny it.  I say stupid and un-nessesary things.  I laugh, I smile, I cry and I try.  Tryed to make something out of myself by the why I act, talk and the way I am.  It's hard to be unique when everyone is doing the same because clearly trying to be unique is not unique.  You'd probably find a girl exactly like me down the road if you look hard enough.  Oddly, that doesn't bother me because I know who I am.  I laugh really hard when I see "Not your average girl" on people's profiles and shit because everyone has it.  When everyone writes that, does it really make you different from them? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-5330777652576534722?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/5330777652576534722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/to-be-continued.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5330777652576534722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5330777652576534722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/to-be-continued.html' title='To be continued,'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-3885478264222796905</id><published>2009-08-10T08:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T09:05:59.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pushing them away.</title><content type='html'>I think that I have pushed all the people trying to get close to me away. Even the ones that were already close. All the friends that I used to share all my feelings with have made efforts to reconnect with me but I feel like I've just watched them. And because of that, I find myself alone. Several times. At those moments, I want to talk to someone. Two seconds later, I realize theres no one there. The people who are usually there are busy and I'm sure I'd just be a waste of time. Sometimes, I would open a convo on msn attempting to open up once again but end up thinking of the worst that can happen. I feel like I've drifted from the outside world. At times, I feel like an outsider when I'm with my friends. Is that normal? I think that I'm done shutting people out, I want to be the person I was before. I don't want to be the girl always feeling like no on really wants her around. I just want to smile. Smile on the outside and on the inside. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-3885478264222796905?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/3885478264222796905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/pushing-them-away.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3885478264222796905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3885478264222796905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/pushing-them-away.html' title='Pushing them away.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-2831560591370353728</id><published>2009-08-09T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T20:40:04.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfection is an understatement.</title><content type='html'>What is perfection? Some would say a person that looks 'perfect' physically. Nice hair, teeth, face, body. Others say it's the lifestyle. Wealthy, materialistically. But I say (in my opinion, nothing else) compared to me, perfection is reallly having it ALL. From a full loving family, relatives that always have your back, physically and materialistically wealthy. Perfection may be a unexisting word in your dictionary, but is a word in mine. My definition is based on comparison. When I say "Your life is perfect" I mean, you are lucky. Don't take it as "I envy you" or "You don't know anything" Take it as "YOU'RE PRIVLEDGED" Take it as a compliment. Accept it, thank me for it. Believe me, millions of children would kill to be in your shoes. I hate seeing kids take their lives for granted. Seriously, cherish what you have because in a blink of an eye, that could ALL be taken away. I say that from expierence. Live life like you love it. I used to be a little girl whom people wished they were. I had everything. After all the things in my life, I'm advising you to love everything you have. Cherish every blessing from God. Treat every one as if they are a gift sent down to you from God. Don't take any second for granted. Don't even blink. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-2831560591370353728?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/2831560591370353728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-is-perfection-some-would-say.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/2831560591370353728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/2831560591370353728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-is-perfection-some-would-say.html' title='Perfection is an understatement.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-8858224768749419763</id><published>2009-08-09T14:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T15:13:09.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend Report.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;MYWEEKEND&lt;/strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Friday:&lt;/em&gt; I had like three hours of sleep. Then, Jessica naggged the hell out of me to get ready. She wanted to buy clothes, like always. I loafted while getting ready, 'cause it's fun annoying Jessica. LOL! After my loafting, I bussed my ass down to her house. (Which took FOREVER) The stupid bus driver stopped the bus, went outside and ate. Like homie, it's not break time. Anyways, I was walking to Jess' house from the bus stop and some ugly dude in his ugly van beeped at me. Then he shrugged his shoulders in a awkward way thinking it's attractive. I just laughed and kept walking. I got to Jess' and then we walked to heartland. Bought some shit &amp;amp; went back to her place. Ate some food. Changed. We then bussed to James' place. Then chilled there waiting for Ron's parents. They came and we left. We got to Mabuhay Cup @ like 6. And chillllled 'til 9? Got to James' @ like 9:45. To kill time we went to Jeff's place but he wasn't home so James walked us a little bit. Then, we walked back to Jess'. I got picked up by my parents at 11 and went to MCDO. We called it a night after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Saturday&lt;/em&gt;: Again, I slept for three hours. I woke up @ 5am? Got a call from Jess' to get ready so I did. At 6:35, I got another call from her saying that she didn't know if we were still going. So I thought it was a no-go. I was cheesed, then 30 min later she calls again telling me to come down. So I had to rush some things 'cause I was unaware that we were still going. So Jessica's parents gave us a ride to MCUP. We got there at 7:50? Thinking we were early, but we were on time for the muse meeting. Jessica was so excited to do the muse but ended up wanting to quit. She did it anyways, didn't win but at least she didn't quit right? We were EXHAUSTED, to the fullest. We chilled for a short while, then dippppped. It was early but I felt like I was gonna drop. We went to eastgate with her rents to fill our stomachs. I got dropped home after, thinking about getting some sleep. I didn't end up sleeping. I went out with my parents, GOT CONTACTS :) LOL!  And went to sq. Then went home. At 7:30pm , I fell asleep watching Jonas. Then woke up at 2am, changed into pjs then fell asleep again, quicktimes.End.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sunday: &lt;/em&gt;Today, my dad woke me up @ 10:40am to get ready for church. Sts. Peter And Paul. I ate at home first, got ready then we headed out. After church we went to Dixie Mall, and I was so cheesed. I don't know why. Everyone was just annoying me, it happens to me sometimes. I just get annoyed of everyone around me. So after that we went to some filipino stores and then returned home. And here I am now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-8858224768749419763?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/8858224768749419763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/weekend-report.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/8858224768749419763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/8858224768749419763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/08/weekend-report.html' title='Weekend Report.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-4737716971014637026</id><published>2009-07-29T23:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T23:37:26.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Part Of Me</title><content type='html'>I really dis-like Hannah Montana but this song is pretty damn great. It's not some ice cream freeze shit. This song has a great meaning and is something I can really relate to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;My time, millions of miles away&lt;br /&gt;Time I've felt more and more these days&lt;br /&gt;I've been down this raddy open road&lt;br /&gt;Nothing left to lead me on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I just don't know who I really am&lt;br /&gt;How it's gonna be, is it something that I can't see?&lt;br /&gt;I won't understand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe who I was before&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I don't even know her anymore&lt;br /&gt;Maybe who I am today ain't so far from yesterday&lt;br /&gt;Can I find a way to be every part of me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I never thought I'd feel this way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe who I was before&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I don't know her anymore&lt;br /&gt;Maybe who I am today ain't so far from yesterday&lt;br /&gt;Can I find a way to be every part of me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I'll find time broken down&lt;br /&gt;To find my path so my feet can touch the ground&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it will take time but I know everything will be alright&lt;br /&gt;'Cause nothing in life has changed on the inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I will never be who I was before&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I don't know her anymore&lt;br /&gt;Maybe who I am today ain't so far from yesterday&lt;br /&gt;Can I find a way to be every part of me?&lt;br /&gt;Every part of me&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;That's the truth.&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/3014680696573407495-4737716971014637026?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/4737716971014637026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/every-part-of-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/4737716971014637026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/4737716971014637026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/every-part-of-me.html' title='Every Part Of Me'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-6570233448731995300</id><published>2009-07-28T21:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T21:31:16.577-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"he's a boy"</title><content type='html'>Throughout this year, it seems like all my parents do is yell at me. The only time it actually felt like they were proud is when I graduated as Valedictorian. I bet that if I didn't get Valedictorian, they wouldn't have treated me so nice. That was the only reason I did that stupid shit. I just wanted to feel like I was doing something right. Well I guess it was just a one time thing because everything they say now, is in a mad voice. I don't even understand why. I haven't done anything wrong. The first thing my dad does when he wakes up, is yell at me. He comes out looking for something wrong, so that he can yell.  My mom hasn't said a word to me in 4 days, and I didn't do anything. I'm the one who busts my ass doing all this shit for them, to make them proud. But I get nothing in return. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the things they do for me but I just don't understand the way they treat me. They are never like that with my brother. Even when he is the one doing all the crap that they are against. When I compare myself to my brother, they yell at me saying that "he's a boy" He doesn't ever get yelled at because he's a boy? He got caught for stealing once and doesn't get yelled at. I make a tiny mess in my room, it's like World War II. Whenever I attempt confrontation, I get yelled at even more. Then they stop  talking to me. It may seem retarded but I always think of ways to hospitalize myself just to get attention from them. Even then, I bet they'll yell at me. Blaming me. I'm scared to run away because I know if I ever come back, my ass is dead. So now, I'm like trapped. That's why, I'm fucking out of this bitch ass of a house when I hit eighteen. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-6570233448731995300?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/6570233448731995300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/hes-boy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/6570233448731995300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/6570233448731995300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/hes-boy.html' title='&quot;he&apos;s a boy&quot;'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-1476917502006497890</id><published>2009-07-25T18:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T18:52:29.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>REVIEWS!</title><content type='html'>Rochelle Montes, Jessica Magnaye and I went to AMC yesterday. We watched three movies: Bruno, The Ugly Truth and Orphan. We payed for Harry Potter but ended up watching those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BRUNO: WHASSSSSSSSUP, I'm BRUNO! We didn't dinish the movie, to be honest I did't even want to finish it. It sucked. It was stupid, the funny parts were only funny because it was so stupid. I really did not like it. Borat was so much funnier. Seeing his fucking dick in every scene is not very interesting. I understood the story but it was so dumb. I was in the mood to laugh my ass off but ended up fucking sleepy. If I were you, I wouldn't waste money on that shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.behindthehype.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/bruno-movie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 330px;" src="http://www.behindthehype.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/bruno-movie.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Ugly Truth: I loved it. It had romace and comedy. The story was original and I enjoyed every second. For real, I don't know what else to say about it but that it was good. Watch it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lodim.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/the_ugly_truth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 362px;" src="http://lodim.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/the_ugly_truth.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Orphan: BESST, loveeeeeeeed it. Okay so the story was like bomb &amp;amp; they had me laughing and shitting myself. LOL! The comedy-ish scene had me laughing harder than I laughed in Bruno. There were very intense parts. &amp;amp; the other little girl, Max, was so fucking cute. Loved her : )&lt;br /&gt;YOUUUU HAVE TO WATCH IT!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://weakcampus.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/orphan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 362px;" src="http://weakcampus.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/orphan.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-1476917502006497890?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/1476917502006497890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/reviews.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/1476917502006497890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/1476917502006497890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/reviews.html' title='REVIEWS!'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-8894256032332139368</id><published>2009-07-25T18:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T18:12:40.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life.</title><content type='html'>I hate when people don't appreciate the lives that they were blessed with. Some people have it all, but when it is pointed out, they deny. Shouldn't you be proud to say that God has blessed you with a lot? You may have little problems but other than that, you life is great. I must say, my life is pretty damn great. I've been through shit in the past, but that's done. &amp;amp; I'm proud to say it! My parents may give me a hard time sometimes, but whose doesn't? What more could I ask for? I have my loving family, my supportive friends and a bunch of unnecessary things that make me happy. So if you know that your life is fucking great, don't deny it. Scream that shit out! Tell the fucking world that you're thankful. Show God that you're thankful. If you have it all, tell all! That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-8894256032332139368?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/8894256032332139368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-hate-when-people-dont-appreciate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/8894256032332139368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/8894256032332139368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-hate-when-people-dont-appreciate.html' title='Life.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-5142474019706852549</id><published>2009-07-21T09:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T18:12:08.802-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams.</title><content type='html'>Dreams are all  I have, so most likely those dreams are unattainable. No matter how close those dreams are to reality, you can never seem to reach it. Like when buying a dress for a special occasion: you know what you want but can never find the dress that meets all your desires. I hate that! I feel like I need to work hard to achieve the goals that I set. When I make a goal and plan my ways to achieve it, I find myself getting sick of trying to hard. A couple weeks later, "I quit!" Today is the day that I change that, and you guys are my witnesses. I have to separate my lists of dreams and desires and the things I just really want to do. And, I am going to make it happen. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-5142474019706852549?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/5142474019706852549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/dreams-are-all-i-have-so-most-likely.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5142474019706852549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/5142474019706852549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/dreams-are-all-i-have-so-most-likely.html' title='Dreams.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-4012228199571991940</id><published>2009-07-18T20:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T18:11:38.505-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Proud To Be Kapuso.</title><content type='html'>GMA KAPUSO STARS ARE THE BEST! LOL, We met &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;RICHARD EFFING GUTIRREZ&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;RHIAN RAMOS, IZA CALZADO&lt;/span&gt;, &amp;amp; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;RAYMOND GUTIRREZ&lt;/span&gt;! @the mabuhay festival &amp;amp; trade show. It was so live, freal. RICHARD IS FREAKING SEXY! We kept yelling for him to come to us but whenever we yelled his name, he would just smile at us. &amp;amp; my baby cousin, wesley got to dance on stage with Rhian Ramos and Iza Calzado. Which is like so unfair to me. LOL! Well yeah this blog is just to make all of you jealous! And to inform you of the amazing day I had : )&lt;br /&gt;DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNO ! That's  the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-4012228199571991940?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/4012228199571991940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/gma-kapuso-stars-are-best-lol-we-met.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/4012228199571991940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/4012228199571991940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/gma-kapuso-stars-are-best-lol-we-met.html' title='Proud To Be Kapuso.'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014680696573407495.post-3774366040220337914</id><published>2009-07-17T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T18:10:45.819-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='truth'/><title type='text'>WASTES!</title><content type='html'>Some girls can be so &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;immature&lt;/span&gt; and I absolutely hate that. They may look mature on the outside but still feel the need to start shit like a second grader. Honestly, grow up. Your age may be bigger than mine, but my level of maturity is way above yours. Advice from a youngin' may not be worth a lot but these words written here are the truth. There is no more room in this world for you bull shit, we have got enough little kids. We don't need you adding stress to innocent people's life. If you're feeling insecure about your position, that is no one's fault but your own. For real. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Just quit your little games, your pleasing no one&lt;/span&gt;. Not even yourself, and you know it. You're trying to show people that your all "big," when we all know you end up crying at your lonesome because of your shit insecurity. This is not shit talk, it's real talk. To be honest, it is more like advice. To help you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;GROW UP!&lt;/span&gt; I say that to help you not to offend. That's the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014680696573407495-3774366040220337914?l=ktorrijas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/feeds/3774366040220337914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/some-girls-can-be-so-immature-and-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3774366040220337914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014680696573407495/posts/default/3774366040220337914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktorrijas.blogspot.com/2009/07/some-girls-can-be-so-immature-and-i.html' title='WASTES!'/><author><name>ktorrijas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04850914883286531614</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TExbo0KxKCA/Sl1Bj7ilt0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3P6Gd6MXqtg/S220/IMG000558.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
