<?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-14209735</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:02:17.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Broken Half</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Cass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05159185139037133333</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14209735.post-112238321801996190</id><published>2005-07-26T06:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T06:06:58.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Everything, and I mean, EVERYTHING happens for a reason. No matter what anyone says, God has a plan and the mistakes we make are just part of it. The mistakes we commit are just part of learning what our mission here's going to be. I guess things for me haven't been the best, but sometimes I have to open my eyes to what's in front of me. Sometimes, I have to admit, I look for things that are missing and I want them. But once I get them... I guess people could say I don't value them when I do. But all along, the missing piece to the puzzle I've been wanting to solve is right here in front of me. And I took You for granted. I know I wasn't really there to thank You for everything You did for me. I'm sorry. And no matter what, I know You're always gonna be there, standing in front with open arms, waiting for me to jump into them and say sorry, that I love You and thank You for being there. I could only wish that one day, I would be able to do that. I guess by fulfilling what I'm supposed to do, soon You and I can actually hug and make kwento about my whole life. You're the one I can trust. You're the one I can love with all my heart and give my soul to. You're You. And I don't need anyone else. Well, maybe, while I'm here, to see You in them and pray that they see You in me. Having You inside of me is the best blessing you could ever give. I love You so much and I'm sorry that there were times I took You for granted. I guess there were times I would just ignore You as I pass by and You're always there, waiting for me to acknowledge you anywhere I go. Sometimes I'd feel the tap on my shoulder and go to You, but I've never been able to listen to what You've got to say for me. I'm sorry... I think this happened for a reason, and You opened my eyes and said softly, "Hey, I'm here..." and now I can say, "I know... and I'm glad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hehe... That was deep... I dunno, I guess some things happen for great reasons. And to the other one: I guess what you did opened my eyes to a whole new level. *hug* No matter what, I want you to go boy-hunting with me at the mall. ;) Our little secret, six o' clock. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much Love,&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14209735-112238321801996190?l=mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/feeds/112238321801996190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14209735&amp;postID=112238321801996190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112238321801996190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112238321801996190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/2005/07/everything-and-i-mean-everything.html' title=''/><author><name>Cass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05159185139037133333</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14209735.post-112207871761856713</id><published>2005-07-22T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-22T17:31:57.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Band Practice at THE PLACE</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was the funniest day I've ever experienced. We had band practice here at my house... hehehehe:D Mikki was the first to arrive (which was a shock for me because he's usually late... hehe, joke! love ya mikki!) and he said "Come on, let's pick up Pam!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So off we went to pick up Pam. Hehe. We were walking and I was making kwento, and he didn't believe in it. Wahaha:D So we walked to Pam's house and he made me point out *snap snap*'s house. So when we got Pam, we walked back (Mikki's a cheater, he punch-buggied me with the same punch buggy) and HE couldn't stop coughing in front of *snap snap*'s house. Pam was making parinig pa! Urgh! It was weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way back, Micah arrived in Wang-Wang and she got off the car to walk back with us. We were walking when Mikki decided to go to Cuenca and we walked and it was a FIESTA!! We went home a bit after that and tamang-tama Alana and Carla arrived pero we didn't see them. Turns out they were hiding and I was like "OH!!!". So we all hugged and stuff like that and then we sat Mikki down for the... *drumroll*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;marquee&gt; INTERROGATION!!! &lt;/marquee&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we made up the ambience (only two lights were open and they were on Mikki) and semi-circled him. I sat down on the floor with a pad and a pen, "searching" for any mysterious behavior whatsoever. "So, Mikki. We decided to pair you up with Anton Ocampo, my cousin," Micah said. I, being very weird, decided to cut in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whoa, he's hot." So I wrote down on the pad paper, "Mikki--&gt;Anton=H.O.T.T and puts the S in SIZZLE." Which resulted in laughter from the other interrogators. Hahaha. :D Anyway, afterwards, Mikki stole my paper and glared at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How bout you, Cassie? Why don't we interrogate YOU?" he said. THAT resulted in very EVIL grins from the fellow interrogators. Carla put on her "best actress" look and stared at me fiercely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, Cassie. Where were you on the night of the eighth?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Which eighth?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, not THAT question," Mikki interrupted. He looked at me sternly. "Is it true?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," I answered. He simply stared at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"NO WAY." He wrote it down quickly. So after more questions which made me laugh and get annoyed, we went to my guitar, which Alana now treasures as her baby. (BTW, I can play "Growing Old With You" and "Superman") Mikki and Micah were left outside talking, which highlighted the night's theme: DRAMA. Tagline: The plot thickens. (pum pum pum... kwa kwa kwaaaaaaaaaa... tunununnnnn) Hehehehe:D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, we bummed in the den and had fun. Carla and I were secret spies.. Wahahahaha.. Alana and I tried to be Mikki and Ticky.. Doing their ballet is hard, especially carrying Alana! Haha! After awhile, MIKKI left. Which left us five.. The new... DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We watched *ToOt!* and bummed around until I showed the &lt;strong&gt;JUSTIN TICZON BLACKMAIL TAPES&lt;/strong&gt;. Hmm.. Then afterwards we bummed around again until late.. Micah called *snap snap* and.. FELL OUT THE WINDOW!!! Hahaha! Her legs were sticking out and she was screaming! Laughtrip! Then we bummed outside and sort of made open session.. Then played Golden. Wahaha. I didn't have to do Micah's dare!! YAAAAY!!! :D Micah and Pam left na rin.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was just Alana, Carla and me. We talked about stuff and Alana looked like a druggie. They like the song I made! Yaaay! :D I love you all! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;marquee&gt; I'm officially missing you... &lt;/marquee&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much laughter,&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14209735-112207871761856713?l=mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/feeds/112207871761856713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14209735&amp;postID=112207871761856713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112207871761856713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112207871761856713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/2005/07/band-practice-at-place.html' title='Band Practice at THE PLACE'/><author><name>Cass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05159185139037133333</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14209735.post-112186630798517463</id><published>2005-07-20T06:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T06:31:47.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Enough</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I wish I could just turn myself invisible and find away to turn back time. Things for me have just been crud, and I hate it. Firstly, there are some people who MUST want you to feel so bad and then say, "Hey, guess what? I wanna get you as my friend again." Oh, wow. *Note my sarcasm, please.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've officially given up. What more do YOU want from me? You want to see my heart keep breaking and breaking and breaking all over again? Because it's hard enough for me to try staying friends with you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADVERTISEMENT: If you want to break my heart (trust me, it's VERY easy to break), dial 1-800-I-WANT-TO-BREAK-UR-HEART. I repeat, 1-800-I-WANT-TO-BREAK-UR-HEART. I know I'm being overdramatic. But I guess it's just my period. Urgh. Or maybe it's cause I'm so fed up of crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;marquee&gt; 1-800-I-WANT-TO-BREAK-UR-HEART... Don't worry, we'll get someone to mend it back. &lt;/marquee&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too tired,&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14209735-112186630798517463?l=mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/feeds/112186630798517463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14209735&amp;postID=112186630798517463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112186630798517463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112186630798517463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/2005/07/enough.html' title='Enough'/><author><name>Cass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05159185139037133333</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14209735.post-112157584005653163</id><published>2005-07-16T21:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-16T21:50:40.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Never There</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Color the coast with your smile&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's the most genuine thing I've ever seen&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was so lost&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But now I believe&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before, you used to notice I was there in a snap. Now as I enter, you don't even realize I'm there... Have you changed that much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;marquee&gt; Forget it. Forget me. &lt;/marquee&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate from,&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14209735-112157584005653163?l=mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/feeds/112157584005653163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14209735&amp;postID=112157584005653163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112157584005653163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112157584005653163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/2005/07/never-there.html' title='Never There'/><author><name>Cass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05159185139037133333</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14209735.post-112142536778618483</id><published>2005-07-15T03:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T04:02:47.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sigh.</title><content type='html'>Lately I've just been so... weird. I dunno what's been happening to me, my brain and my life. Bio.. still sucks. And I've got History and Religion on Monday too. I'm so not in the mood to study, I'm not actually in the mood for anything. I'm frustrated by the fact that some of my friends (not here in the Philippines) are so ready to say, "You biyatch, you abandoned me when I needed you most, and now when I don't need you, that's when you're here." God, I'm more useful than that. And lately I've just been feeling so cruddy and tired and pained, I dunno what exactly can make me feel better. I guess stuff are just making me weird and all these stuff I get pissed at are really plucking at my nerves. Urgh... I think Trumpets can make me feel better... I dunno, today's Micah's Red Box thing but I can't go because I'm not allowed... Urgh.... Whatever... I'm not in the mood to type this at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14209735-112142536778618483?l=mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/feeds/112142536778618483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14209735&amp;postID=112142536778618483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112142536778618483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112142536778618483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/2005/07/sigh_15.html' title='Sigh.'/><author><name>Cass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05159185139037133333</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14209735.post-112091499794791522</id><published>2005-07-09T06:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-09T06:16:37.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*sigh*</title><content type='html'>Well... Things have been.. very.. unexplainable lately. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Micah's Party&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ken and I were the only ones who went!!! Urgh!! You guys, I thought we'd be marami!! :D Anyway, it was fun.. Micah was like, "YOU! You lied to me... and YOU! You lied to me too!!" HahahahaÜ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;marquee&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICAH BABE!!&lt;/marquee&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... LOL:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Today&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm too sleepy.. FIVE THIRTY AM.. Urgh... And now I have a migraine.. Whatever..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;marquee&gt;Life's just like that.&lt;/marquee&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much love,&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14209735-112091499794791522?l=mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/feeds/112091499794791522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14209735&amp;postID=112091499794791522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112091499794791522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112091499794791522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/2005/07/sigh.html' title='*sigh*'/><author><name>Cass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05159185139037133333</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14209735.post-112074423776139057</id><published>2005-07-07T06:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T06:50:37.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anything But Ordinary</title><content type='html'>Anything but ordinary... Hmm..&lt;br /&gt;Why does everyone wanna be different when they can just stand out and be free to do whatever they choose? I mean, it's better to just be free and do whatever you want without having to care if anyone says bad shit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;marquee&gt; Sometimes life is really like that... &lt;/marquee&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much love,&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14209735-112074423776139057?l=mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/feeds/112074423776139057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14209735&amp;postID=112074423776139057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112074423776139057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112074423776139057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/2005/07/anything-but-ordinary.html' title='Anything But Ordinary'/><author><name>Cass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05159185139037133333</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14209735.post-112056822855950007</id><published>2005-07-05T05:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T04:19:20.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#000000;"&gt;Hey everyone!! This is my other blog.. Fun! I dunno why I made another one, but cool! Hahaha:D So, I'll catch y'all later! Gotta do stuff.. Ack. BIO SUCKS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14209735-112056822855950007?l=mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/feeds/112056822855950007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14209735&amp;postID=112056822855950007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112056822855950007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14209735/posts/default/112056822855950007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mybrokenhalf.blogspot.com/2005/07/hey-everyone-this-is-my-other-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>Cass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05159185139037133333</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
