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	<title>Om Shanti &#187; True Story</title>
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		<title>Om Shanti &#187; True Story</title>
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		<title>For the Love of Shoes</title>
		<link>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2009/04/29/for-the-love-of-shoes/</link>
		<comments>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2009/04/29/for-the-love-of-shoes/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 29 Apr 2009 04:23:23 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>shanta</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Passion for Fashion]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[True Story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2009/04/29/for-the-love-of-shoes/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Shanita Chikita Bonita and her Love Affair with Shoes
       <img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=shantaketurah.wordpress.com&blog=418415&post=67&subd=shantaketurah&ref=&feed=1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class='snap_preview'><br /><p><a href="http://shanitachikitabonita.tumblr.com/post/101328651/for-the-love-of-shoes">Shanita Chikita Bonita and her Love Affair with Shoes</p>
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			<media:title type="html">shanta</media:title>
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		<title>Umm&#8230; You&#8217;re Dripping</title>
		<link>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2009/04/23/umm-youre-dripping/</link>
		<comments>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2009/04/23/umm-youre-dripping/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 23 Apr 2009 04:23:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>shanta</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[True Story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/?p=59</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This is a link to my other blog. No one seems to comment there so yeah, reblog hehe  
Just Click the link below:               
The Perils of Shanita Chikita Bonita
       <img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=shantaketurah.wordpress.com&blog=418415&post=59&subd=shantaketurah&ref=&feed=1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class='snap_preview'><br /><p>This is a link to my other blog. No one seems to comment there so yeah, reblog hehe <img src='http://s.wordpress.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif' alt=':D' class='wp-smiley' /> </p>
<p>Just Click the link below:               </p>
<p><a href="http://shanitachikitabonita.tumblr.com/post/99147923/umm-youre-dripping">The Perils of Shanita Chikita Bonita</p>
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			<media:title type="html">shanta</media:title>
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		<title>At least it got me through the day :D</title>
		<link>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/11/06/at-least-it-got-me-through-the-day-d/</link>
		<comments>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/11/06/at-least-it-got-me-through-the-day-d/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 06 Nov 2008 13:42:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>shanta</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[True Story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/?p=57</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[                                                       [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=shantaketurah.wordpress.com&blog=418415&post=57&subd=shantaketurah&ref=&feed=1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class='snap_preview'><br /><p><!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;  Normal 0     false false false  EN-US X-NONE X-NONE              MicrosoftInternetExplorer4              &lt;![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;-->                                                                                                                                            </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&quot;">This morning before I left for work, I noticed that Kyle’s mobile phone was still plugged. He apparently left it to charge overnight. Being the electricity-saver that I am, I turned of the outlet’s switch, which caused his phone’s screen to light up. I was pleasantly surprised with what I saw. It was a picture of me taken on one of our special 23 celebrations, set as wallpaper. It was so out of character for him! The only times his wallpaper is set to my picture is when I get bored, toy around with is stuff and tease him by setting a picture of me as his wallpaper. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&quot;">So there it was. Me on his phone’s screen, we have always been the less demonstrative couple. This might have been caused by the years apart and starting off our relationship as really3x good friends. It was so unexpected, but I couldn’t help but smile when I saw it. I had gone through the whole day thinking about it and it got me excited about the wedding even more. If you see surprising things like this in the future, it would be fun.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&quot;">I got home to day to a usual scene. I turn the key, open the door, and take my shoes off, then my towel slippers on. I walk towards the living room as I ask, “Kita pa na abot? (Are we the only ones who’ve arrived?)” And Kyle takes his eyes off the screen off his laptop a bit and says, “Yup, but Alfon and Razid won’t be eating here.” (This means Alfon <em>&amp; Kim</em> and Razid <em>&amp; Tonet</em> are not having dinner at home.)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&quot;">Then I went to the kitchen, grabbed a bite to eat, then sat across Kyle in the living room. I said, “Bibs, you set my picture as your wallpaper lagi, uuuuuy!” And I laughed, expecting him to joke about by saying something like “Of course!” making it sound like it was out of spite, but you know he really meant it. But noooooo…What actually happened was this…</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&quot;">Kyle said, “Ah yeah, you remember I told you about the meeting we had? Yan took my phone and he played with it, changing the settings and stuff. (Yan by the way, is the name of his boss)”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&quot;">And in my head I went, “Alrighty then…oh well, at least it got me through the day!</span><span style="font-size:8pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Wingdings;"><span> <img src='http://s.wordpress.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_smile.gif' alt=':)' class='wp-smiley' /> </span></span><span style="font-size:8pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&quot;">” </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&quot;">Shortly after telling him, the whole day I was thinking about how it was so out of character for him to do, and it amused me (Hay, I know him too well!), I came up to my room to blogaboo about it hehehe!</span></p>
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			<media:title type="html">shanta</media:title>
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		<title>Suga Suga How You Get So Fly?</title>
		<link>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/08/13/suga-suga-how-you-get-so-fly/</link>
		<comments>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/08/13/suga-suga-how-you-get-so-fly/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 13 Aug 2008 14:55:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>shanta</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[True Story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/?p=55</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[You know how it is with people handing you flyers in the train station? There are days when I walk passed them and there are days when I just grab one. When the flyers come with freebies like tissue though, I get the urge to want to be handed one.
It also depends on the one [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=shantaketurah.wordpress.com&blog=418415&post=55&subd=shantaketurah&ref=&feed=1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class='snap_preview'><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;">You know how it is with people handing you flyers in the train station? There are days when I walk passed them and there are days when I just grab one. When the flyers come with freebies like tissue though, I get the urge to want to be handed one.</p>
<p><span style="text-align:justify;">It also depends on the one distributing them. When I see those cheerful, hopeful teenagers handing out the flyers, I feel the need to be more lenient on them. On occasion, I would even give a little eye contact and smile. There are those however who give you about 5 flyers; I mean c’mon, that’s cheating! They get paid to stand there in the crowd, carefully pick whom they hand out to, and smile.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;">Whenever I go to Orchard, that’s when I get handed the most flyers. Usually I’d go there on Fridays and I would be carrying my laptop bag. What people normally do is take a flyer, and at the sight of the very first garbage bin, they throw the flyer away. Waste of paper right? And I doubt people ever really read the whole of it too. I, out of the “kindness” of my heart and my great appreciation for people doing something useful and to not waste resources and other people’s efforts, I don’t throw these flyers right away. I stuff them in my laptop bag, and when it’s time to clean the bag, I read the flyers or, just throw them away…eventually hehe.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;">Just how effective an advertisement are flyers anyway? To be honest, I think it must be a real good strategy. Specially during sales and such.</p>
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			<media:title type="html">shanta</media:title>
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		<title>I Want To Ride My Bicycle!</title>
		<link>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/07/10/i-want-to-ride-my-bicycle/</link>
		<comments>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/07/10/i-want-to-ride-my-bicycle/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 10 Jul 2008 03:05:47 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>shanta</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[True Story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[When the Heart Speaks]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/?p=46</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[My dad used to sing this to me while I was learning how to ride my bike when I was 6:
 
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my bike
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride it where I like
 
-à Bicycle Race by Queen
 
I think my dad’s pretty cool to have sung [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=shantaketurah.wordpress.com&blog=418415&post=46&subd=shantaketurah&ref=&feed=1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class='snap_preview'><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><em><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">My dad used to sing this to me while I was learning how to ride my bike when I was 6:</span></span></em></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><em><span style="font-size:8.5pt;color:black;font-family:Verdana;">I want to ride my bicycle<br />
I want to ride my bike<br />
I want to ride my bicycle<br />
I want to ride it where I like</span></em><span style="font-size:8.5pt;color:black;font-family:Verdana;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8.5pt;color:black;font-family:Verdana;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8.5pt;color:black;font-family:Verdana;">-</span><span style="font-size:8.5pt;color:black;font-family:Wingdings;"><span>à</span></span><span style="font-size:8.5pt;color:black;font-family:Verdana;"> Bicycle Race by Queen</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><em><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">I think my dad’s pretty cool to have sung this Queen song to me! <img src='http://s.wordpress.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_smile.gif' alt=':)' class='wp-smiley' /> </span></span></em></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Yesterday I had one of the most exhilarating experiences since I came to Singapore. I went on a secret mission in the morning, all hyped-up, excited and hopeful. When I woke up, everything seemed to have run smoothly. I even found the pair of foot socks that I use for my sling backs, you can&#8217;t imagine how relieved I was to find the pair. When they&#8217;re not on my feet the socks just look like a tiny ball of hair. I guess many would agree that finding anything as hard to find as that after searching for a long time, would be such a pleasant surprise! </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">So let&#8217;s skip the part when I was doing my mission. I&#8217;ll go straight to what happened after. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Right after the mission, I went to the restroom. After any gruelling experience, I always get the impulse of having to go the restroom. I ran through all the mission&#8217;s events in my head. I tried to review what I did wrong, how well I did and if going through it was a mistake. Then shortly after the self-review, I then asked myself if I can live with failing yet again.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">I talked to someone but instead of feeling comforted, I felt like I needed to beat myself up. So before things got worse, I hurried to the bus stop before I did or said anything stupid.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">When I got home, I felt a lot better. My friends were there. I didn&#8217;t have to think too much about what I did wrong in my mission. I had maki, a little pasta, some cookies, leche flan and some chocolate. (Stressed much?) We had a round of DOTA, and we watched a movie. All seemed well and the mission felt like it never happened.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">That evening, my housemate and I cooked up a fest with our newly purchased oven. I always thought I hated cooking. I didn&#8217;t love it, but I can&#8217;t deny that I love to eat. As I mom would say, if you&#8217;re a picky eater, you have got to know how to cook. Everything for dinner was baked, except our rice and the stir-fried veggies. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">What I especially like about cooking dinner is that I get to talk about stuff I can&#8217;t usually talk about to just anyone. Dinner itself wasn&#8217;t the best part. It was the preparation and the things I get to talk about with my housemate. I can share my silly thoughts to her. Funny how we never thought all these little &#8220;tragedies&#8221; would lead to something as precious as making a new friend.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;">Last night, I celebrated friendship by getting on a bike the second time in so many years. My riding skills have gotten so rusty, I kept flying off the bike every time I tried to make a turn or tried to stop. Waaah! I&#8217;m a daredevil like that wahahahah <img src='http://s.wordpress.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif' alt=':D' class='wp-smiley' />  I had to suck out the fun out of their biking session by just cycling in straight pathways instead going around corners. They had to accompany me. They will never know this, because I don&#8217; think any of them read my blog haha, but thanks for being patient with me and for lending me your bike <img src='http://s.wordpress.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif' alt=':D' class='wp-smiley' />  I had so much fun even if I have all these bruises on my legs now. Haha! Also, last night, after so many years, I discovered that I still have my monkey bar skills. Whappak! <img src='http://s.wordpress.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif' alt=':D' class='wp-smiley' /> </span></p>
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			<media:title type="html">shanta</media:title>
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		<title>Pinch Me, I’m Dreaming</title>
		<link>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/05/28/pinch-me-i%e2%80%99m-dreaming/</link>
		<comments>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/05/28/pinch-me-i%e2%80%99m-dreaming/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 28 May 2008 06:30:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>shanta</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[True Story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Whiny Weasel]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/?p=43</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[ 
Have you ever tried to look up the meaning of your dreams in the internet? Whether it’s because something really amazing happened in your dream, it felt really nice and you kind of ach e for it to come true that you just had to know what it meant. Or you had one disturbing dream [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=shantaketurah.wordpress.com&blog=418415&post=43&subd=shantaketurah&ref=&feed=1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class='snap_preview'><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-size:small;font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Have you ever tried to look up the meaning of your dreams in the internet? Whether it’s because something really amazing happened in your dream, it felt really nice and you kind of ach e for it to come true that you just had to know what it meant. Or you had one disturbing dream that was just a wee bit short of a nightmare; you can’t quite get it out of your head. Some of them feel almost real and you get scared of them ever coming true.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Can you just imagine that I got flashbacks of a dream of having my leg shaven? And last night I had another one of the shaving dreams again. In the most recent one, my armpits were about to be shaven by somebody else. How freaky is that? And the one with the leg was even more annoying because there were two people taking turns (and NO… not in a kinky way!). One of them shaved my leg too quickly, I had a cut. The other one took really slow and I kept saying I could do a much better job.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Shaving is one rare occurrence in a dream, and to have them two nights in a row? Now that has got to mean something. So I visited my trusty dream interpreter site. Take note of the word trusty. I am a frequent visitor because I always have strange dreams.<span>  </span></span><a href="http://www.dreammoods.com/dreamdictionary"><span style="color:#0000ff;font-family:Times New Roman;">www.dreammoods.com/dreamdictionary</span></a><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> The interpretations are almost always head on.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">I looked up the word shave and this is what I found.<span>  </span>“To dream that someone is shaving your leg, represents a lost (loss) of your independence. You are relying on others to get through some difficult times.<span>  </span>You need to build up your self-confidence and self-esteem.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Here we go again with the self-esteem! When in the hell will I be over this? Can it be programmed into my character already? And isn’t it already a bit too late for character building? I’m already 23 years old for crying out loud! I’ve got issues, I know. But who the hell doesn’t? </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">I don’t deal with my issues the wrong way. I simply don’t deal with them. Revisiting any of them or even facing my problems almost feels like rubbing salt in my wounds which, oddly enough, is something I on occasion, find myself doing. Not literally of course. Come on. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">I am a bit of a masochist, if you prefer euphemisms, go ahead and call it being a martyr. Maybe it’s because I’m scared, or maybe I’m too lazy or too tired. Like me not picking sides because I do not want to do with anything that is not deliberately caused by me, especially when it turns into some crazy fiasco.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">That’s just me. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Deal with it.</span></span></p>
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			<media:title type="html">shanta</media:title>
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		<title>I Don&#8217;t See What Anyone Can See, In Anyone Else But You</title>
		<link>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/05/24/i-dont-see-what-anyone-can-see-in-anyone-else-but-you/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sat, 24 May 2008 16:31:26 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>shanta</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[True Story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/?p=42</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[It’s 12 midnight and my head is throbbing. It’s from the drink my housemate mixed up for me and my fiancé. He’s playing some online game busy talking to his buddies, so I drank the whole glass. It’s vodka (Absolut Vanilia, and yes, it is spelled that way) with Hershey’s chocolate syrup. Yum? You betcha!
There’s [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=shantaketurah.wordpress.com&blog=418415&post=42&subd=shantaketurah&ref=&feed=1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class='snap_preview'><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span>It’s 12 midnight and my head is throbbing. It’s from the drink my housemate mixed up for me and my fiancé. He’s playing some online game busy talking to his buddies, so I drank the whole glass. It’s vodka (Absolut Vanilia, and yes, it is spelled that way) with Hershey’s chocolate syrup. Yum? You betcha!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span>There’s an almost stinging pain at the top of my head as I type but I have been itching to write an entry, the only thing stopping me is that there hasn’t been anything interesting to write about lately. Since I’m starting to have a rash from the alcohol I’ve been drinking, I am reminded of the interesting bus ride we had on our way home from Orchard (Great Singapore Sale). </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span>My fiancé and I were at the bus stop, and it was so crowded so we moved somewhere a little away from the shed. There was this Eminem look-alike, about 16-18 years old sitting on one of the benches with his head bowed down. I didn’t notice him until he looked up and stared at me for a bit, and then he started to spit. It looked a bit like it was a shitload of spit. Then he bit on his earphones’ wires, placed his elbows on his lap and bent his head again. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span>A few minutes later, our bus arrived, we got on, went to the top deck and I followed my fiancé to the front of the bus. I asked if he preferred sitting on the front. The bus was quite empty, and thought that it was an odd seat to pick when I found it tempting to pick any of the seats in the back. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span>The bus was filling up, when suddenly I heard stomping on the stairs, which made me turn around and look. It was the spitting kid. He was walking to the back of the bus when he started puking all over the place! And apparently, also on some passengers! He casually walked to the very back of the bus and lay there. Just like nothing happened. He passed out.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span>Then I thought, “Man, this dude is so wasted. Wait, did he piss or did he puke?” Either way it was a horrible sight. I turned to my fiancé and asked how the kid will know if he’s reached his stop. A couple of stops later, people kept coming up to the top deck ,then going back down because of the vomit on the aisle. This obviously concerned the bus driver, so he grabbed some newspapers and tried to cover up the puke. The kid also puked on his way up the stairs. Passengers kept saying “eeew, disgusting..”.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span>It’s good that I’m drinking at home. I’d know where to puke if I had the urge to.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But man… I still can’t get over what happened on the bus. I think I can still even smell the vomit. Gross. And yeah, this kid was so drunk but it was still 9pm. It really did seem like he had a lot to drink.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Good thing the dude wasn’t driving.</p>
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			<media:title type="html">shanta</media:title>
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		<title>Blushing Bride vs. Bridezilla</title>
		<link>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/04/09/blushing-bride-vs-bridezilla/</link>
		<comments>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/04/09/blushing-bride-vs-bridezilla/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 09 Apr 2008 03:15:40 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>shanta</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[True Story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[When the Heart Speaks]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/?p=41</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I have less than a year to plan my wedding. More than 6 months, yes, but having to plan it away from my country would require me to have to work double-time. 
 
I don’t want an extravagant wedding. I want a simple, intimate yet different one. If I can’t take it to the extreme! (LOL) [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=shantaketurah.wordpress.com&blog=418415&post=41&subd=shantaketurah&ref=&feed=1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class='snap_preview'><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">I have less than a year to plan my wedding. More than 6 months, yes, but having to plan it away from my country would require me to have to work double-time. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">I don’t want an extravagant wedding. I want a simple, intimate yet different one. If I can’t take it to the extreme! (LOL) My taste has always been quite unconventional. I have been picky with colors since I was three. I like planning, and for years I always like to take down notes of everything. (The flaw here is, I tend to rely too much on my notes that I forget birthdays. But, let’s save that story for another blog entry.) Despite wanting to have to work on things hands-on, I do not have much of a choice but to leave things to the hands of my dear friends and my mommy and also, my future mum-in-law hehehehe!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">It is a little hard for me to go about this idea since I’ve always been a firm believer of this quote:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">“If you want to get things done the exact way you want it, you will have to do them yourself!”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">As a little girl, I’ve never had any big dreams about getting married, heck, I don’t even know if I have a dream wedding. All I remember, is when I was about 3 years old, I wanted to be a nun. (True story) </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">Planning for a wedding seems like hard work! Help me!!! :-O I have been part of a wedding’s entourage for a dozen times, and a lot goes on behind the scene. I remember the last wedding I played bridesmaid at, I remember leaning on mama (my aunt) and telling her,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"><span> </span>“Mama..”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">I was waving my fingers around all the fuss going on around.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">“Why does all this, make me scared of having a wedding?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">Then I looked at Jackie, my cousin’s charming bride, and saw how happy she was and none of all the “fuss” bothered her. It was her big day and she was all smiles. I had to laugh at myself at that time. I think I would be smiling at this point of my wedding because, not only will I be minutes away from being my bb’s wife, but also, the entire wedding planning extravaganza will be over!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">Weddings don’t have to be that complicated right? I want it to be simple in the attempt to keep myself from forgetting the essential things in this sacred event. Tita, my mum-in-law-to-be (hehehe) put it very nicely by saying, something like no matter how extravagant you make your wedding, people will not always remember it, there will always be nicer, bigger weddings or something like that. Of course, that weren’t her exact words, but what ran through my mind that night was, as long as I am marrying my lovey and that we make that day memorable and perfect for us, then that’s fine by me. The wedding is ours! It’s not for our families or for our guests for crying out loud! </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">Again, I am not preaching or whatsoever, I want to try not to complain, or continue ranting. For those few who have read my blog, I write when I am sad, mad, happy, and when I sound preachy, it is only because of my perpetual attempt to convince myself of what I write.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">I haven’t decided on a motif. I have a lot in queue but I do not like having them rejected because they are my babies, my art, just like my code. <img src='http://s.wordpress.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_razz.gif' alt=':-P' class='wp-smiley' />  Geek!!!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">I tell myself, “Why bother too much about the motif anyway, whatever color I decide on, I will only be wearing white!” I keep telling myself this but somehow, I can’t help it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">Blushing Bride or Bridezilla? I want to be neither! Blushing bride sounds boring and too old school, uptight even hehehehe! And Bridezilla, I guess you get the picture. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">I want to be a kick-ass bride!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><em><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">February 23, 2009 save the date!</span></em></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><em><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">Try your best to not to get there late!</span></em></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><em><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">If you don’t make it there on time, you will miss some chocolate!</span></em></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">P.S. This is NOT an invitation. <img src='http://s.wordpress.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif' alt=':D' class='wp-smiley' /> </span></p>
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		<title>Somebody Save Me</title>
		<link>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/03/02/somebody-save-me/</link>
		<comments>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/03/02/somebody-save-me/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 02 Mar 2008 07:57:56 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>shanta</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[True Story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Whiny Weasel]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/03/02/somebody-save-me/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Humor me, give me something fun to do, or throw me something to do that is worthwhile.
At times like these, I wonder why even still look forward to weekends. Not to mention that this particular weekend, the rain has been pouring non-stop. It was fine when I got up this morning; it made me stay [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=shantaketurah.wordpress.com&blog=418415&post=36&subd=shantaketurah&ref=&feed=1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class='snap_preview'><br /><p style="text-align:justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">Humor me, give me something fun to do, or throw me something to do that is worthwhile.</span></p>
<p style="text-align:justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">At times like these, I wonder why even still look forward to weekends. Not to mention that this particular weekend, the rain has been pouring non-stop. It was fine when I got up this morning; it made me stay in bed later than I normally could. Then the rain thought it was so cute that it greeted me the way it did today. It’s not cute. It’s alright of it rains as long as it doesn’t go on the whole freaking day.</span></p>
<p style="text-align:justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">I am beginning to not like weekends as much as I used to. There’s just not much to do except do chores, clean up, cook, go to mass, pay bills. I need some excitement or may be something to do that’s other from the norm. What pisses me off is that I have tried so hard, even too hard to fill my time. I even started reading again. Since I don’t have a lot of books, as a matter of fact I just have one, and I am almost finished with it. I try and not finish it yet and sleep instead. Sleeping is fine but I also don’t like throwing my weekend away just like that. Back in Cebu, I had television, in here, TV doesn’t count. We don’t have cable and I personally don’t think it is worth the money, because we won’t be able to enjoy it as much as we would like anyway.</span></p>
<p style="text-align:justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">I’m frustrated. I think I am about to throw a fit but I know I won’t so I think about it and I occasionally grunt. It’s because my boyfriend is here with me but I have never felt lonely as hell. When my face shows that I’m bored to death, he asks me what I want to do and it pisses me off that I don’t know what I can offer him that can amuse him just as as much as playing DOTA with his friends would. I can see how disappointed he is when I see him looking at me, not doing anything. Actually, I am just waiting for him to again sweep me off my feet without having to pout. To be honest, I don’t ask much from him. I never do. I just can’t believe I have waited close to 8 years to be with him, and then this is all that actually happens. I mean hello, I wasn’t even expecting a fairy tale. Shit.</span></p>
<p style="text-align:justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">While he is in front of the laptop I go to my room and lay there and think about other couples and how jealous I am because they do things together, not forcefully and they enjoy things that they do together, I mean really enjoy. I guess it is also because they have only been together for so long ( this is what I try to tell myself ). And I also think about the times when we were apart for months at a time and I would wonder how it would be like being together, seeing each other every single day. I haven’t even enjoyed the blissful stage yet. We’re not even married yet for crying out loud!!!</span></p>
<p style="text-align:justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">Is it because ever since before I have always played it cool. Not demanding anything from him. I always tried to be more of a friend than a girlfriend as much I could muster because we were apart for the 7 years of our relationship. We just recently had our 8<sup>th</sup> anniversary. I don’t know. I love him to death (gugmang gi-atay). I just wish we weren’t through with the blissful stage yet. I was expecting that but I never thought it would come even before the wedding. It’s sad, but it is the truth. <span></span>Grabe I try to make him happy with me but the only way I know how to make him happy is to do stuff that doesn’t necessarily involve me, like playing PC games which I suck at by the way. And by playing these games I also get him frustrated because I’m no good at it. Wahahahahah! I’m no gamer! Again, this is one of the things I enjoy doing but am not good at.</span></p>
<p style="text-align:justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">Damn it. I wish I were the type of girl who the boyfriend never gets enough of. I must have pushed him away way too much and way too early in our relationship. Although it doesn’t seem too obvious I try to always do things right. I have my curfew, I took care of studies first, and I take care of work first, so you know I am the good girl. Apparently sometimes, good girl = boring girl.</span></p>
<p style="text-align:justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">Maybe it would have been better if I was the <i>Miss-always-right</i> girlfriend. The bossy girlfriends get hold of their boyfriends better. I wonder what it is like to be like them. </span></p>
<p style="text-align:justify;" class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;">Ngano bitaw nag uyab2x na bata pa!</span></i><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> (Indirect Translation: That is what you get for getting into a serious relationship at a very young age!) &#8211;</span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Wingdings;"><span>&gt;</span></span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Tahoma;"> Man, this is said so much better when said in vernacular.</span></p>
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		<title>Don&#8217;t Keep Me Wading</title>
		<link>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/02/28/dont-keep-me-wading/</link>
		<comments>http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/2008/02/28/dont-keep-me-wading/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 28 Feb 2008 06:49:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>shanta</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[True Story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shantaketurah.wordpress.com/?p=35</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[My housemates and I finally came to a realization that we aren’t getting any younger and that the lifestyle we are living isn’t as healthy as we hoped it would be. Part of the realization could be attributed to the fat I have unwillingly (but also doing nothing to keep it from happening or at [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=shantaketurah.wordpress.com&blog=418415&post=35&subd=shantaketurah&ref=&feed=1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class='snap_preview'><br /><p><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Arial Narrow';">My housemates and I finally came to a realization that we aren’t getting any younger and that the lifestyle we are living isn’t as healthy as we hoped it would be. Part of the realization could be attributed to the fat I have unwillingly (but also doing nothing to keep it from happening or at least just slow it down a bit) gained in the past few months. The amount of weight I gained is ridiculously noticeable and this is being continuously confirmed by everyone I haven’t seen since I left Cebu. </span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Arial Narrow';"> </span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Arial Narrow';">So, one day, while sitting on our fat asses playing DOTA. (LOL gi damay pa gyud nako ang uban) We decided that it’s time to make a change. It’s time to get on our feet (and make this world a better place) and put on our bikinis, and strut our stuff in the swimming complex which is just a walking-distance from our unit. </span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Arial Narrow';"> </span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Arial Narrow';">Good luck to us then on this very challenging endeavor, and I hope we all stick to this. We’re all in this together! LOL! Away with the flabs and hello to the abs! <img src='http://s.wordpress.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif' alt=':D' class='wp-smiley' /> </span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Arial Narrow';"> </span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Arial Narrow';">Tonight, me and my hubby-to-be are going to Vivo City to buy shorts he could use for swimming. The Billabong board shorts are apparently a big no no to the lifeguards. Shorts that go below the knee, no matter how absorbent they are, aren&#8217;t allowed. But I swear I saw a couple of guys in their ‘whitey tightys” or is it “tighty whiteys”. Seriously.</span></p>
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