<?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-7195109</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:34:27.028-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blaaaaaaaaahh</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>286</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-3899326256914769865</id><published>2009-01-17T01:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T01:21:46.691-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hindsight</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;I was sorta looking forward to sending her flowers on valentines, until I realised today that it really wouldnt ve in anyone's best interest for me to do so, and the first thing that came to mind was that I saved $50. And then I realised what a selfish person I had become. I mean I guess I dont really owe anyone anything, but I'm getting too old for this shit. I really should be making upwards of 100k a year by now, but I am somewhat content with my 50k a year job. I dont know, I guess life isnt a bed of roses but I'd like to feel like it was, and I'm definately just falling and not caring whether its the thorns I'm gonna be falling on or whether its the petals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-3899326256914769865?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/3899326256914769865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=3899326256914769865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/3899326256914769865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/3899326256914769865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2009/01/hindsight.html' title='Hindsight'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-3090026646970275848</id><published>2008-12-21T01:23:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T02:00:04.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>notes about myself.</title><content type='html'>Someone linked this to me on my facebook, but Its not as private as my blog, so I decided to post it on here instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My favorite show at the moment is definately planet earth. There is no other show that captivates me as much as this. Maybe its my 50 inch plasma tv, maybe its the fact that I like to get high before I watch it, either way.. amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I like doing extreme things. Drive a car at over 180 mph. Done. Motocycle? Done. I've been bungee diving, sky diving, god knows how many times. I really want to do a new form of extreme diving called vampire diving. You wear a suit that stretches in between your thighs and arms. And I suppoise you jump off a cliff or something, and the sheer momentum of the fall forces you into a glide at like 150 mph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. My mom used to tell me that I always got another injury before the last one healed. I think I've been staying true to that since I learnt to walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I dont really believe in luck. Or karma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Or god.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I love buying clothes. I can spend hours at the mall, just picking out clothes, if I could spare the time. Money is usually never the deciding factor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I hate going back home to visit my parents. I just dont like being constricted and I despise the limited freedom I get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I dont think I will ever date an indian girl again. I feel like I've seperated myself so much from the indian community, that there is almost nothing I have in common with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I am an asshole. I used to be a really nice guy. I dont really regret it. With regards to women, what they say is definately true. Women love assholes. And its only because when you treat a girl like crap, they feel like they have something to prove to show you otherwise. Example : I am a total douchebag to the girls I work with. For my birthday, I got a collective ~ $500 worth of shit, + at least 8 bday cards + surprises(home made cookies, brownies) at work. Of the 15 or so other employees that work with me, nobody else got any sort of similar treatment and most have been working there for longer than me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I am not really sure if I will ever allow another girl to get close to me again. Sometimes I think about how emotionally detached I have become and I am proud of myself. I dont think anyone will ever break my heart again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. I have a weakness for girls that are what I call "Show stoppers". There are attractive girls, there are hot girls, there are beautiful girls, there are head turners, and then there are show stoppers. Usually these come with daddy issues( daddy loved her too much/didnt love her enough) and having the quality mentioned in no. 9 comes in very handy for this situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. I really miss playing cricket. I think it was very unfortunate that I only got interested in it with I was 16 or so. I'm 99% sure that I could have turned it into a professional career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I believe in happiness before success. People at work always ask me why I dont move on to bigger and better things. I always tell them, that bigger and better isnt necessarily happier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. I believe in personal happiness before anyone else. I think my parents have a very hard time understanding that I will always put myself ahead of anyone else. This is probably also why I do not want to go back home. my views and beliefs are so different from theirs, that any sort of reasonable arguement from my part results in my mom telling me she cant believe that we are of the same blood; to which I usually have an impartial response that sends my mom into a uncontrollable sob during which point I hang up the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. My favorite fictional character off all the movies/books/comics I've read/seen or heard of is definately James Bond. I think it's only because I feel he is the only one I can relate to in terms of emotion, and character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. I am a narcissist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-3090026646970275848?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/3090026646970275848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=3090026646970275848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/3090026646970275848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/3090026646970275848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2008/12/notes-about-myself.html' title='notes about myself.'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-7477827523417045539</id><published>2008-09-21T22:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T22:48:39.967-04:00</updated><title type='text'>fried ice cream</title><content type='html'>I made fried ice cream at work today for the first time ever. Considering i got bum rushed by every girl that worked tonight, I think I did a great job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another perfected dessert under my belt. Sweet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-7477827523417045539?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/7477827523417045539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=7477827523417045539' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/7477827523417045539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/7477827523417045539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2008/09/fried-ice-cream.html' title='fried ice cream'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-3451798200909124566</id><published>2008-07-22T02:52:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T03:08:57.124-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Long time</title><content type='html'>It has been a long time since I've made a post. One of those random moments when I come back from work, and im like hey, let me update my blog. Not reallly sure how many people read this anymore, considering I havent updated in 6+ months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after a salary job with Du pont for 3 months, I quit, because I found extremely boring, and I didnt want to be trapped ina  cubicle for the rest of my life. Packed my bags, moved back to gainesville, and picked up a job as a dishwasher at aa asian cuisine restaurant. I'd never worked at a restaurant before, so I figure I'd get some experience. 6 months later, I am a sushi chef/assistant manager of the joint, and I'm making almost as much money as I did working salary at du pont. I cant really say I'm satisfied with my life at the moment, but I am happy. Bills get paid, I'm having a ton of fun. Unfortunately, I'm not really sure what I want to do with the rest of my life. Any sort of attempt at another salary job for the next 6 months will be a miss, since there is no fucking way I will pass any of the drug tests. Reminds me of my modeling days, except worse. Drugs have become the substitute for alcohol these days. Although, some of the long term effects of cocaine/marijuana are much more subtle than alcohol, I still feel sort of feel bad for abusing it. Oh well, I suppose I have to live with my choices. Hopefully some day I will wake up and it will hit me, as to what I'm supposed to do with the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there are the girls. I actually have to see a phsychologist for my female problems which stem from one single problem, an over inflated ego. I'm never satisfied. It's almost inhumane for me to be nice to any girl that I am interested in. I dont really have a problem picking up girls, its keeping them thats the problem. Its almost as if I have female ADD. As a close friend of mine told me once, "All this because some girl came along and broke your heart, am I right?". SHe was probably right, but I'd definately not like to think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-3451798200909124566?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/3451798200909124566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=3451798200909124566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/3451798200909124566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/3451798200909124566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2008/07/long-time.html' title='Long time'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-3461058018939730484</id><published>2007-11-08T01:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T01:48:17.039-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was in African(Off the border of Nigeria) this past week, and some of the things I saw really shocked me.  Did you know the rebels cut off the breasts of child brearing mothers so they cant feed their own childern. I mean.... WTF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people have a tainted view on religion...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-3461058018939730484?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/3461058018939730484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=3461058018939730484' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/3461058018939730484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/3461058018939730484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-was-in-africanoff-border-of-nigeria.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-7041965881771814595</id><published>2007-06-14T04:38:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-14T04:45:09.626-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.schneier.com/blog/archives/2007/01/huge_online_ban.html"&gt;http://www.schneier.com/blog/archives/2007/01/huge_online_ban.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost exactly 3 years ago, I watched Oceans 12 with a certain someone. Hopefully she still remembers what I said, and what she had to say in return.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-7041965881771814595?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/7041965881771814595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=7041965881771814595' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/7041965881771814595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/7041965881771814595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2007/06/httpwww.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-615509106377356008</id><published>2007-04-26T01:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T02:16:49.226-04:00</updated><title type='text'>hmmm</title><content type='html'>Hey folks, been a while since I checked in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today i found out something magical. As you guys know, my cat Cappy, is my little baby.&lt;br /&gt;Shes the best pet ever. Unfortunately, she hates it when you give her too much atention, and she hates it when you dont give her any. She has different ways to get attention, from jumping on your lap, to whining like no tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my favorite thing to do when i come back from school/work is to hug her cos shes just so damn cuddly. 100% of the time when i do that shes starts making funny noises and whining. Today however was different. FOr some random reason, i started singing the rockabye baby lullabye. when I picked her and she knew what exactly i was gonna do she started whining, but the second, i started singing she stopped. ANd then i ran out of lyrics , and there came whe whining again. SO I started singing Creed- lullabye, and it stopped. I was pretty shocked by this, and it definately made my week. I love my little goosie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On other news last weekend I went to some western bar and some guy didnt like me, pulled a knife on me and sorta tried to stab me multiple times. Fortunately, I got away with minor lacerations to my abdomibal region. Fucking asshole, now they will never show my body off as the most flawless in human civilization. Didnt I quit my last job to get away from that kida stuff?&lt;br /&gt;Haha. Take it easy guys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-615509106377356008?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/615509106377356008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=615509106377356008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/615509106377356008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/615509106377356008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2007/04/hmmm.html' title='hmmm'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-6278099146262306105</id><published>2007-03-20T01:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T02:42:21.481-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just got back from a nice, sweet, much needed roadtrip. Actually I wouldnt quite call ita roadtrip, as most of my time was spent camping by the side of the missisipi river. So, camping would be more like it. White water rafting, Rock climbing, swimming in the warm water, was just really refreshing, and a welcome change from the dull that had just suddenly taken over my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I got together with one of my good female friends, and we went to watch a screening of bride and prejudice. Mind you, when first asked to go watch this, I thought it was the movie staring keira knightley, but that was apparently PRIDE and prejudice. Anyways synopsis of the movie is that is a "bollywood musical". American guy comes to India to attend a marrige of a friend of a friend, falls in love with indian chic. Indian familty opposes blah blah blah etc etc etc. In all honesty, I enjoyed the movie. It was somewhat funny and entertaining. It was also nice to see a little bit of indian culture again. I dont know tho, just like like mommy does, they did a horrid job of stereotyping americans, describing them as being rude and selfish and snobbish. I dont know about others but I for one learnt to always open doors for people, to hold chairs for women when dining with them, and various other small little things I've never seen Indians do. But then again, I guess I would be stereotyping if I went past saying thats all I've seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I realised one thing, and that one thing made me, probably sadder than anything in a while. I had absolutely nothing, zero, zilch, nada in common with any of the indian themes in the movie, well except one; I fucking love indian sweets. I've been to 1 indian wedding in my lifetime, and that was my Uncle's wedding. But halfway through the wedding I punched one of my cousins in the face and made his nose bleed and was promtly driven home to be given a good spanking(?). I dont remember anything past a bloody nose and yelling parents and relatives, but I can only assume the consequences. Theres something called the "garba". After googling this(yes its fucking sad I know), I realised that I 've never been to one of these dances before much less heard of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yea, nothing in common with Indians. I dont really share the culture. I accept it, but dont follow it, though I did feel a little tickling in my tummy around all those indian themes. Odd, being that my mom is so damn religious. Oh well past is the past. It's time to lead the new life. Hope everyone is doing well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-6278099146262306105?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/6278099146262306105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=6278099146262306105' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/6278099146262306105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/6278099146262306105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-just-got-back-from-nice-sweet-much.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-3086335416051525140</id><published>2007-02-28T04:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T04:20:52.671-05:00</updated><title type='text'>addiction</title><content type='html'>Have any of ya'all been addicted to anything?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drugs, Alcohol?&lt;br /&gt;COs if not you wouldnt even come close to how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;Ya know the day you stopped smoking/doing drugs/alcohol you fekt just totally useless, totally impotent, totally insignificant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats how I'm feeling. I turn the corner, noone shooting at me. I turn the corner and theres a friend ready to greet me wiith a drink at the bar. I have a constant headache. I cant imagine an ordinary life, yet here I am leading one. This sort of withdrawal results in saying ridiculous and stupid things, usually found in emails, and  such things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good nite ladies and gentlemen. Here's to a normal life...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-3086335416051525140?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/3086335416051525140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=3086335416051525140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/3086335416051525140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/3086335416051525140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2007/02/addiction.html' title='addiction'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-4255378556421984146</id><published>2007-02-24T06:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-24T06:18:03.292-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I really dont know what to say. I'm sooo fucking tired of living a bullshit Life. I want to lead a real non bullshit real life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-4255378556421984146?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/4255378556421984146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=4255378556421984146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/4255378556421984146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/4255378556421984146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-really-dont-know-what-to-say.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-9159651633837146068</id><published>2007-02-24T04:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-24T04:34:58.773-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life or something like it...</title><content type='html'>Today, I drank for the first time in forever. I realised something. Life isnt something thats been handed to you,  , rather, Life is something  that you make out of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-9159651633837146068?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/9159651633837146068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=9159651633837146068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/9159651633837146068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/9159651633837146068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2007/02/life-or-something-like-it.html' title='Life or something like it...'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-4380436325011514808</id><published>2007-02-17T04:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-17T04:51:25.538-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Problems...</title><content type='html'>Hmm. TOday My roomate came to me with a concern. He has decided to show anomosity. I wouldnt quite say I'm scared because, well, this is nothing compared to what I've been through. Anyways he decides question me about why i leave town for weeks at a time, and come back and stay at home for a week with out ever hardly going out. Somehow I manage to pay rent/utilities on time, without a sign of a particular job. How do I explain this. Hmm. I never thought random roomates would give a shit or care, but I'm willing to bed my color has something to do with this. Sigh...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-4380436325011514808?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/4380436325011514808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=4380436325011514808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/4380436325011514808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/4380436325011514808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2007/02/problems.html' title='Problems...'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-117153084551351901</id><published>2007-02-15T03:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T04:14:05.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Its that day again eh</title><content type='html'>As I sat down for dinner tonight, across from a girl I'd seen maybe twice in my life, My mind started to wonder away from the subject of what she did with her friends last weekend at the bar. It's been 6 years since I stepped foot onto the states. What did I end up doing this very same day every year for the last 6 years?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2001: Haplessly rejected by the first girl I ever liked in college when asked to go on a date.&lt;br /&gt;2002: Dinner with a chic I'd been dating for over a month. She crashed her car a few days later.  I sent her some flowers and a nice card to help her get over her car crash. She never spoke to me again.&lt;br /&gt;2003: Juggling 3 different girls on Valentines day for dinner. At least they knew about each other =P. I think thats probably the one of the stupidest points in my life. Partying every night, drinking everynight. Riding my bike around like a maniac.&lt;br /&gt;2004: Spent the first hour of valentines professing my love to someone that lived 10k miles away over the phone.&lt;br /&gt;2005: Recovering from cancer.&lt;br /&gt;2006: Probably drunk.&lt;br /&gt;2007: Sitting across the dinner table from someone I'm not even interested in. I fucking hate blind dates. I felt bad for the girl, i was totally wasting her time. Just ended up driving her home right after dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats life eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Came back home today, and decided to take a shower, and realised i was inadvertently wearing a pair of "dog lovers" boxors i was given as a valentines gift 3 years ago =P I laughed so hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-117153084551351901?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/117153084551351901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=117153084551351901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/117153084551351901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/117153084551351901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2007/02/its-that-day-again-eh.html' title='Its that day again eh'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-117117880213233158</id><published>2007-02-11T02:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-11T02:26:42.153-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A little bit of this and a little bit of that</title><content type='html'>Tonite, while I was on the phone with my parents, I started to cry. I couldnt figure out, if it was because I was using a public phone to be discrete about who i talk to(because of my job), or whether I was lying about my life. I guess I'm still figuring out. I leave you guys with a poem I wish I wrote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had a hammer, I would build a house for two&lt;br /&gt;And if I had a sailing ship, I would take a trip with you&lt;br /&gt;And if had the poet's hand, I'd write a verse for thee&lt;br /&gt;And if I had the painter's touch, on canvas you would be......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-117117880213233158?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/117117880213233158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=117117880213233158' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/117117880213233158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/117117880213233158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2007/02/little-bit-of-this-and-little-bit-of.html' title='A little bit of this and a little bit of that'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-116955106095579109</id><published>2007-01-23T06:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T06:17:40.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'>woopty doo</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was a remarkable day. I finally decided to call my parents after 5 months of not talking to them to let them know how I was doing. My dad picked up the phone and didnt even recognise the voice for the longest time. I could sense the anger in his voice at the guy who was calling the house at 10 pm, until I was like, "yea its your son."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy my dad was so fucking happy to hear my voice. Pity I was just takin a breakfast break at work. Mommy was super duper extremely pissed, demanding I come back and such. And so I wrote them an email, and my mom wrote me the sweetest email ever, telling me what I should be eating, and how I should plan my days on having 8 hrs of sleep and such. Ah, a little love goes such a long fucking way to light up one's life, doesnt it. 5 months ago, i would have yelled at my mom for nagging me for saying the exact same thing. Funny how it all turns out at the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-116955106095579109?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/116955106095579109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=116955106095579109' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/116955106095579109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/116955106095579109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2007/01/woopty-doo.html' title='woopty doo'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-116703570218325442</id><published>2006-12-25T03:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T03:35:02.200-05:00</updated><title type='text'>X-mas</title><content type='html'>You know, christmas was a time of celebreation, a time of happiness, a time of splendid reunion. This year though, it was a time of dissapointment, a time of reflection, a time of sadness even. Somehow I have sinned myself to an appointment with death himself. SOmehow, I've decided to take the big risk. Some mock you those that take "Life or death" decisions. Tomorrow I will be taking one of those. Hopefully this will not be my last blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave you with my thought at this moment of time:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I've learned in the last four years: in every game and con there's always an opponent, and there's always a victim. The trick is to know when you're the latter, so you can become the former.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-116703570218325442?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/116703570218325442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=116703570218325442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/116703570218325442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/116703570218325442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/12/x-mas.html' title='X-mas'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-116512558436281186</id><published>2006-12-03T00:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-03T01:01:42.093-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Hit and Run</title><content type='html'>"Feel the speed through the intersection&lt;br /&gt;Sheets of rain I seek out cars&lt;br /&gt;Hands in gloves grip handlebars&lt;br /&gt;Ride alone to the pub in the dark&lt;br /&gt;I get a little wet but I don’t have to park&lt;br /&gt;And the lights start flashing green and red&lt;br /&gt;As the right-hand car turns left and I slide&lt;br /&gt;I can’t turn back&lt;br /&gt;I make contact&lt;br /&gt;Blinkers smash into mosaic&lt;br /&gt;Then I start flying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always think we get more time&lt;br /&gt;Now flying through the air&lt;br /&gt;Maybe living, maybe dying&lt;br /&gt;In this motor crash it's you who comes to mind&lt;br /&gt;Don’t we always wish had more time"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-116512558436281186?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/116512558436281186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=116512558436281186' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/116512558436281186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/116512558436281186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/12/my-hit-and-run.html' title='My Hit and Run'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-116452254421725213</id><published>2006-11-26T01:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T01:29:04.273-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life or something like it</title><content type='html'>I dont really know where My life is heading at the moment. I'm confused, I feel beaten. ANd i Feel totally exhausted. Had a rather lonely thanksgiving this year.  I sorta deserted all my friends, burnt all my bridges. I feel like TIm, 1.5 years ago. I'm the idiot that everyone made fun of. Oh well, as they they say, life goes on I guess. I got to bond with my new roomate this weekend. I went from hardly knowing him him to us buying each other drinks at the local bar. Heh. Hes got the tattoo of his kid on his arm. 24 years old, with a kid, and living away from wife and kid. Imagine that. Was his bday today. We both went out and had a geeks night out at the local electrocnic store. I thought that was sorta funny. Never thought myself to be a nerd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways as it stands, I'm sure I'll ge tover my gloomy mood. GO check out "Casanova" if you want. Great movie. I enjoyed it a ton.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-116452254421725213?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/116452254421725213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=116452254421725213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/116452254421725213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/116452254421725213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/11/life-or-something-like-it.html' title='Life or something like it'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-115960062929136827</id><published>2006-09-30T03:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-30T03:17:09.306-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have made a life changing decision today. I'm so fucking scared of the choice I have made, and I wish I had someone to talk to =(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-115960062929136827?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/115960062929136827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=115960062929136827' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115960062929136827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115960062929136827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-have-made-life-changing-decision.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-115864982642943300</id><published>2006-09-19T03:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T03:10:26.450-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In Regards to Wen's post, wish you would have felt the same =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-115864982642943300?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/115864982642943300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=115864982642943300' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115864982642943300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115864982642943300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/09/in-regards-to-wens-post-wish-you-would.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-115769564252913860</id><published>2006-09-08T02:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T02:07:22.546-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Maroon 5</title><content type='html'>I was listening to the Maroon 5 album today, and I remembered when she said " U missed it baby, I was dancing and listening to the album, and u completely missed it. And I'm not gonna repeat it for you ever again"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I shed a ittle tear just then ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-115769564252913860?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/115769564252913860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=115769564252913860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115769564252913860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115769564252913860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/09/maroon-5.html' title='Maroon 5'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-115727986632790813</id><published>2006-09-03T06:36:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-03T06:37:46.326-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Found eh</title><content type='html'>I found er!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://img216.imageshack.us/my.php?image=2429689384285lds4.jpg"&gt;http://img216.imageshack.us/my.php?image=2429689384285lds4.jpg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuckin asian girls. Always get my blood racing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-115727986632790813?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/115727986632790813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=115727986632790813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115727986632790813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115727986632790813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/09/found-eh_03.html' title='Found eh'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-115727983549077982</id><published>2006-09-03T06:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-03T06:37:15.503-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Found eh</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-115727983549077982?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/115727983549077982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=115727983549077982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115727983549077982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115727983549077982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/09/found-eh.html' title='Found eh'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-115727712259124274</id><published>2006-09-03T05:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-03T05:52:02.593-04:00</updated><title type='text'>decisions</title><content type='html'>Sometimes a man has to make a decision:&lt;br /&gt;Life or death&lt;br /&gt;Action or dull&lt;br /&gt;Rich or poor&lt;br /&gt;Laughter or sorrow&lt;br /&gt;Dreams or Hopes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I myself had to decide today. What do I want out of life? Do i want carefree or do I want something I really worked for. Answer is simple, something I worked for. Free shit is stupid, shows nothing of your character. Today i decided, I will work for what I have. Today i decided, everything I"ve done has been left behind. Today I get a new start to my life.  Today I work for everything I'm gonna earn for the reast of my life. Today I decide. What sgood, short term, whats good long term. Scarface or american dream with white picket fence? Who knows what I decide. Adrelenin, cant ever get rid of that can I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-115727712259124274?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/115727712259124274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=115727712259124274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115727712259124274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115727712259124274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/09/decisions_03.html' title='decisions'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-115727655328892421</id><published>2006-09-03T05:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-03T05:42:33.306-04:00</updated><title type='text'>decisions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-115727655328892421?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/115727655328892421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=115727655328892421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115727655328892421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115727655328892421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/09/decisions.html' title='decisions'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-115640326238028416</id><published>2006-08-24T03:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-24T03:07:42.400-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurt</title><content type='html'>I hurt myself today&lt;br /&gt; to see if I still feel&lt;br /&gt; I focus on the pain&lt;br /&gt; the only thing that's real&lt;br /&gt; the needle tears a hole&lt;br /&gt; the old familiar sting&lt;br /&gt; try to kill it all away&lt;br /&gt; but I remember everything&lt;br /&gt; what have I become?&lt;br /&gt; my sweetest friend&lt;br /&gt; everyone I know&lt;br /&gt; goes away in the end&lt;br /&gt; and you could have it all&lt;br /&gt; my empire of dirt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I wear this crown of thorns&lt;br /&gt; upon my liar's chair&lt;br /&gt; full of broken thoughts&lt;br /&gt; I cannot repair&lt;br /&gt; beneath the stains of time&lt;br /&gt; the feelings disappear&lt;br /&gt; you are someone else&lt;br /&gt; I am still right here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; what have I become?&lt;br /&gt; my sweetest friend&lt;br /&gt; everyone I know&lt;br /&gt; goes away in the end&lt;br /&gt; and you could have it all&lt;br /&gt; my empire of dirt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I will let you down&lt;br /&gt; I will make you hurt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; if I could start again&lt;br /&gt; a million miles away&lt;br /&gt; I would keep myself&lt;br /&gt; I would find a way&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-115640326238028416?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/115640326238028416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=115640326238028416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115640326238028416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115640326238028416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/08/hurt.html' title='Hurt'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-115382055140236703</id><published>2006-07-25T05:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T05:42:31.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'>=)</title><content type='html'>Doing much better. As usual, amazing fucking genes made me recover 4X faster than a normal human being. AM i the like the wolverine? Noone will know cos I will never give my blood to sample/test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gonna put my game face on for the fall. Graduate. get a job. Come back to Singapore!.&lt;br /&gt;Hell yea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-115382055140236703?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/115382055140236703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=115382055140236703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115382055140236703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/115382055140236703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post.html' title='=)'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-114702071546130881</id><published>2006-05-07T12:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T12:51:55.483-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Graduation Not So EZ?</title><content type='html'>So, last weekend, every single person(pretty much) that I knew well in my freshmen year of college, graduated. After seeing them on stage, accepting their diplomas, I felt like taking a very very blunt knife, stabbing myself in the heart with it, and then twisting it, several times. ANd then I woulda done it another time. Seriously, I felt so fucking ashamed of myself, that I had to help myself from bursting into tears. Never felt that way, i must say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Attended my friend's graduation ceromony on Saturday in Daytona beach. TWas lotsa fun, got to see some of my friends that had already graduated that had congregated to wish Andrew the best of luck , as he goes to officer cadet training so he can go work as an engineer on a submarine. I admire some of my friends, with a set future, Tim, gonna be working at Boeing. Doug, working fulltime with his firm that he's been working Part time at. Noam, working parttime and going to grad school. Jimmy, got a job with an insurance firm in Wyoming? or something... Das? STill unsure, hates the classes he's gonna take over the summer. Cant even fucking find a place to live with his lease expiring tomorrow. =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, I've gotten too accustomed to taking risks, and always getting away with it. Maybe, I love cutting the line, its the only thing that keeps me going, the excitment of knowing that if something is not done by tomorrow, I will be homeless/jobless/careerless, etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I walked along the beach last night, alone, while Tim was basking and enjoying himself in the presence of Kristen, I thought to myself, what huge mistakes have I made in my life?&lt;br /&gt;Why is it a couple of years ago, socially, and scholistically,  Tim and DOug and Noam were way below, and suddenly, I find myself in the bottom of the pyramid? Is it the choices that I made?&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, its because, I lived with a premotion that noone could ever touch me, noone could ever rock my cradle hard enough for me to fall off the tree. Life they say, is not about regretting what you didnt, do but rather, learning from the mistakes. I personally am glad that I did the things I did. Noone else can say they've seen Russia in its winter mystery, or Cairo in its summer shine. Ireland, in its Springtime bloom, or Brazil and it's fall parades. Not many can say they've dived 10 000ft from an airplane at the middle of the night. I've had so many amazing experiences, but sadly it seems, that in the end, they arent as important as what you are left with. Right now, I have pissed off parents, graduating friends, no female companionship( the one thing that really depresses me), but a decent amount of money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyways, enough of my rant. Ya'all have a good day =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-114702071546130881?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/114702071546130881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=114702071546130881' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114702071546130881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114702071546130881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/05/graduation-not-so-ez.html' title='Graduation Not So EZ?'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-114659054143313050</id><published>2006-05-02T13:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T13:22:21.450-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"As Lovers Go"</title><content type='html'>As recommended by a girl that I play vd0 games with(however wierd that might sound):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As lovers go, by Dashboard Confessional:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; i'll be true, i'll be useful...&lt;br /&gt;i'll be cavalier...i'll be yours my dear.&lt;br /&gt;and i'll belong to you...&lt;br /&gt;if you'll just let me through.&lt;br /&gt;this is easy as lovers go,&lt;br /&gt;so don't complicate it by hesitating.&lt;br /&gt;and this is wonderful as loving goes,&lt;br /&gt;this is tailor-made, whats the sense in waiting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; you've got wits...you've got looks,&lt;br /&gt;you've got passion but are you brave enough to leave with me tonight?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-114659054143313050?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/114659054143313050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=114659054143313050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114659054143313050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114659054143313050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/05/as-lovers-go.html' title='&quot;As Lovers Go&quot;'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-114479339479408675</id><published>2006-04-11T18:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T18:09:54.806-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I pick up my smile put it in my pocket&lt;br /&gt; Hold it for a while try not to have to drop it&lt;br /&gt; Men are not to cry so how am I to stop it&lt;br /&gt; Keep it all inside don't show how much she rocked ya&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Ooh can you feel the same&lt;br /&gt; Ooh you gotta love the pain&lt;br /&gt; Ooh it looks like rain again&lt;br /&gt; Ooh I feel it comin' in&lt;br /&gt; The mountains win again&lt;br /&gt; The mountains win again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Dreams we dreamed at night were never meant to come to life&lt;br /&gt; I can't understand the ease she pulled away her hand&lt;br /&gt; This time in my life I was hurt enough to care&lt;br /&gt; I guess from now on I'll be careful what I share&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Ooh can you feel the same&lt;br /&gt; Ooh ya gotta love the pain&lt;br /&gt; Ooh it looks like rain again&lt;br /&gt; Yeah feel it comin' in&lt;br /&gt; The mountains win again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; A pocket is no place for a smile anyway&lt;br /&gt; Someday I will find love again will blow my mind&lt;br /&gt; Maybe it will be that love that got away from me&lt;br /&gt; Is there a line to write that could make you cry tonight&lt;br /&gt; Can you feel the same&lt;br /&gt; Yeah ya gotta love the pain&lt;br /&gt; Ooh it looks like rain again&lt;br /&gt; Ooh feel it comin' in&lt;br /&gt; The mountains win again&lt;br /&gt; Ooh the mountains win again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Blues Travellers, Mountains Win again. I highly recommend getting this song. It's so friggin mellow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-114479339479408675?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/114479339479408675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=114479339479408675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114479339479408675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114479339479408675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-pick-up-my-smile-put-it-in-my-pocket.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-114387301612274682</id><published>2006-04-01T01:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T01:30:16.133-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today I saw a movie with robin williams, where people inject a chip which retains every memory u have, and have the best ones (aka the ones ur loved ones want to be played) at ur funeral as a remembrance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This lead me to think. What if someone managed to get a hold of such a chip of my life. What would they think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I a thief, a deceiving coniving sonovabitch?&lt;br /&gt;Am I a  nice guy only to those that I love?&lt;br /&gt;Am I cold and ruthless, and do things that my job entails?&lt;br /&gt;Am I someone that can never be respected in public due to the deeds that I've done? that too for money and an honest pay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats an answer to a story that I'll never know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-114387301612274682?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/114387301612274682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=114387301612274682' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114387301612274682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114387301612274682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/04/today-i-saw-movie-with-robin-williams.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-114384747636482552</id><published>2006-03-31T18:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T18:24:36.380-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I saw In her Shoes this afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;The following few lines in the movie were most memorable:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pre&gt;&lt;a name="yourheart"&gt;i carry your heart with me&lt;br /&gt;i carry it in my heart&lt;br /&gt;i am never without it&lt;br /&gt;anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done&lt;br /&gt;by only me is your doing,my darling&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pre&gt;&lt;a name="yourheart"&gt;here is the deepest secret nobody knows&lt;br /&gt;here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud&lt;br /&gt;and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows&lt;br /&gt;higher than soul can hope or mind can hide&lt;br /&gt;and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i carry your heart&lt;br /&gt;i carry it in my heart&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/pre&gt; -E.E.Cummings&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-114384747636482552?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/114384747636482552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=114384747636482552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114384747636482552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114384747636482552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-saw-in-her-shoes-this-afternoon.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-114323792905974363</id><published>2006-03-24T17:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-24T17:05:29.070-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was going through my financial report card today, i.e my quaterly financial report, and reviewing my passive incomes, going through with my dad, what he shoulda started doing 15 years ago, when from my winamp music player, "Sugababes-Too Lost in You" started playing. And I started smiling and eventually giggling to mself for about 3 mins. Dunno why, the smallest things still remind me of you eh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-114323792905974363?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/114323792905974363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=114323792905974363' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114323792905974363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114323792905974363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-was-going-through-my-financial.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-114309084644660548</id><published>2006-03-23T00:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T00:16:10.816-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>After being outa town for a few weeks, concentrating on school after I got back, I finally got time, to check up on some old friends. I was so shocked, and so happy to find out that Kallie has been engaged. I couldnt believe that I didnt find out sooner. Feels wierd that everyone around me is getting hitched. I'm not even interested in going out and looking for a girl. Perhaps I'm tired of the game, perhaps I feel that she'll just bump into me at starbucks while I'm grabbing some coffee. But you know thats the funny thing about life. You can never find something until you stop looking for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a chance to talk 1v1 with my dad today while i was driving us back from food. I explained to him that I knew all about the emails, and such. I explained to him, that it was really very nice of him to come down all the way here just to catch up with me, and see how I'm doing. I think he was really happy to hear that. Gave me all the space I needed when we got home, which was even better. He and I caught up on the 2-3 years that I decided to keep to myself. He learnt the whole truth about my life here, my real jobs, my adventures throughout my college life, the speeding tickets, the crazy motorcycle stories, all my ex girlfriends. We laughed and rejoiced as he told me about his collegehood of persuing women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it was the first I've connected with my dad...ever. ANd I am so happy. All because I managed to take one day to think about everything around me, and an email from someone truely amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOpe everyone's having a decent week. Will keep posting assuming Im in town, and "feel like writing". Ciao&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-114309084644660548?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/114309084644660548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=114309084644660548' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114309084644660548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114309084644660548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/03/after-being-outa-town-for-few-weeks.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-114295638763621032</id><published>2006-03-21T10:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T10:53:07.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Got woken up today with a loud thud on my door. My immidiate response upon being awoken in the midst of sleep, was "What!", which was answered without delay with a "Get out of your room". The nightmare had just started it seemed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After stepping outa my room, with my dad glaring at me, I was like why are u waking me up 2 hrs before class? And his amazing response was"I used to be up at 6 30 everyday in college, I dont see why you shouldnt" *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After argueing with him, and telling him he has no right to run my life, he starts breaking down, and crying and calling me "bastard son" about 4 times in 1 minute. I do what any bastard son woulda done at that time. I laughed my ass off at my dad. In retrospect that was probably a bad thing to do, but i couldnt believe how fragile my dad, the leader of my family, the alpha dog could be. So i take a shower, come out calm him down, tell him im sorry i've been acting so cold, that it wasnt fair on him to drop by unexpected and then want me to do stuff for him/with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he's like all calmed down, watching news, and i step outa the door to go to class, and he starts wailing again! I'm like wtf, and he's like u didnt even make me breakfast, or didnt even tell me what to do for lunch. I start pondering, did he really expect me to be like my mom and hand him everything on a silver platter? Or maybe he thought this was 1 week of luxury at the Hilton with bed and breakfast. I suppose so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear, I'm gonna deserve like 15 beers on sat night when my dad leaves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-114295638763621032?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/114295638763621032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=114295638763621032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114295638763621032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114295638763621032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/03/got-woken-up-today-with-loud-thud-on.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-114292067424420628</id><published>2006-03-21T00:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T00:57:54.253-05:00</updated><title type='text'>damn u family</title><content type='html'>So, my dad decides to "surprise" me today by showing up on my front door. And then he gets really pissed that i'm not treating him well, and that hes my father and why I'm being so alienated. Hmmm, apparently, my family doesnt have any idea how it's like to be intruded upon one's privacy. Such an idea doesnt exist in their minds, and is incomprable to them. On top of that , my dad breathes down my neck whenever i sit in my room checking emails/writing emails, doing anything at all, and it's driving me fucking nuts. On top of all that i still have 5 days of his crap to deal with. If theres a god out there, i bet you're out to screw me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-114292067424420628?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/114292067424420628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=114292067424420628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114292067424420628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114292067424420628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/03/damn-u-family.html' title='damn u family'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-114216031114126431</id><published>2006-03-12T05:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-12T05:45:12.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bored</title><content type='html'>So today, I was bored, and decided in my drunken stupor to look through facebook( an equivalent of myspace if you guys have heard of it, of friendster) and look through the pictures of hot girls, and for some odd reason girls I used to date, and have a jolly laugh. After about 1-2 hrs of tearing laughter, I decided to scroll back to my friend's pictures and found a picture that truely made me very very mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v324/darsvader/n2001966_30975566_2134.jpg" border="0" alt="Image hosting by Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reason being: Last halloween, i had casually joked that it would be so funny to put a lamp shade over ur head, make  adresser, put some KY and stick some condoms, an alarm clock and go as a 1-night-stand. And Oh my fucking god my idea got friggin Stolen, ripped apart from me as though it was her own god damn original idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know why I'm angry. It's prolly cos im drunk, and now I have to go to bed, and I'm cranky. haha. ANyways night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-114216031114126431?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/114216031114126431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=114216031114126431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114216031114126431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114216031114126431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/03/bored.html' title='Bored'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-114204518476756019</id><published>2006-03-10T21:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-10T21:46:24.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wow. it's been a while since I've writing something close to a constructive evidence that I'm alive and ticking. I suppose, I really havent. There are some times in life where you just have to pack up all your pictures, and photographs and start anew. And maybe I've been trying to do that, but not so well. Alcohol always seems to be my refuge. I have broken the birdge between many friends and family and don't really know where I'm heading, except for that Porsche I test drove today. That filled me with more energy and life than I've ever been in quite a while. Perhaps my future lies in there...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-114204518476756019?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/114204518476756019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=114204518476756019' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114204518476756019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/114204518476756019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/03/wow.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113847522215242257</id><published>2006-01-28T14:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-28T14:07:02.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's been a while since I've written a blog. Everything seems to be spinning around me real fast. I've been plagued by severe bouts of headaches, insomnia, and lack of interest in anything. Have no idea why, but I take it as I'm just sick and tired of everything. I hate studying, and I hate going to school. I wish I could just skip this phase and go to work. But anyways, Happy Chinese New year to all you guys. Hope everything is well on that side of the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113847522215242257?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113847522215242257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113847522215242257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113847522215242257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113847522215242257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2006/01/its-been-while-since-ive-written-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113498004153929786</id><published>2005-12-19T03:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T03:14:01.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The last few days I've spent depressed and dissapointed. This semester really took all of it out from me. My drive , motivation, and happiness. I feel completely void of all feelings. In fact I didnt feel an inch of emotion when I learnt my grandma whom I was pretty close to had passed away. Why? I dont know. I'm still trying to figure that out. I dont feel like doing anything for christmas, just sitting at home, wishing life would just work itself out. I used to take life by the horns, but I feel like that matador that's been completely caught offguard by a bull, and trashed all along the arena.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i think about what lies ahead I am completely disgusted. I hate studying. I hate college. I just want to start work already. I hate having stupid money problems. I hate having to worry bout my test grades. I want a chance to do this semester all over again. I would change so many things that I did. Retrospective thoughts seem to be of no use unless you want to learn from your lessons. But doesnt seem like I learnt anything, just lost a part of my soul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113498004153929786?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113498004153929786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113498004153929786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113498004153929786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113498004153929786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/12/last-few-days-ive-spent-depressed-and.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113340504595253592</id><published>2005-11-30T21:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T21:44:05.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The voice inside my head says</title><content type='html'>The past couple of days have been hard on me. Got stuck with food poisoning, and finally making some headway toward recovery.&lt;br /&gt;And the last 2 days I had time to reflect and this is what I realised:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss picking up the phone to call you. I miss having someone to talk to amongst all my troubles. I miss laughing, and being totally happy. I miss the way you talk so softly into the phone, and having to decipher what you said without asking you again. I miss looking at my watch and wondering what time I should call you. I miss the fact that I cant think of you before I go to bed and right after I wake up. I miss the way you call Cappy "Cappy-py"&lt;br /&gt;I miss having you design my projects. I miss you taking my notes. I miss the way your hair feels. I miss knowing what cologne to wear out because you like it. I miss writing emails everyday. I miss being motivated and knowing what my goals in life were. I miss taking care of myself and my body because I always wanted to give you the best. I miss thinking that in 4 years I can give you all that you want in your life, everytime I read your blog. I miss that I cant be the one waking up next to you. I miss the fact that I could say I was settled when thinking about my future.And most of all, I miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113340504595253592?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113340504595253592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113340504595253592' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113340504595253592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113340504595253592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/11/voice-inside-my-head-says.html' title='The voice inside my head says'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113305903457112227</id><published>2005-11-26T21:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-26T21:37:14.583-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Marriage and proposals</title><content type='html'>Tonite, I got to talk to my parents and sis who are vacationing in India at the moment. Apparently a lot of my cousins are getting either engaged or married, and this has tempted many of my nosy relatives to ask for my horoscope etc (because thats what indians do to see if you can find a girl that matches your horoscope, and that's how they arrange marriages). At first I thought it was a joke, and then I talked to a few relatives over the phone, and to my horror, i realised it was true, they were looking for a girl for me, trying to set me up. So, after laughing like a madman at their ridiculous statements, I decided to set things right. I ask dad to hand the phone back to each of my relatives and I said the following to them "stay the fuck outa my life. I can find my own fucking girl. I'm not gimped and dont need other people to set me up. And I'm not fucking marrying an indian girl If I can help it either"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say my parents would like to disown me, but fuck em if they wanna. I've got enough money to make it on my own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113305903457112227?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113305903457112227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113305903457112227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113305903457112227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113305903457112227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/11/marriage-and-proposals.html' title='Marriage and proposals'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113259478795966897</id><published>2005-11-21T12:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-21T12:39:47.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How I "outdid" myself</title><content type='html'>Saturday night was truely the night of my calling. I managed to pull off what my friends who were out with me called "A miracle". To do what I did on Saturday night is the coup de la grace of collegehood, what every guy in college dreams to do, what he aspires to become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends, on saturday night, I managed to get my whole table free drinks, and vip treatment for the whole night. If you are wondering how I did that, well, combine the words bartender, owner, and someone who owes me a big favor into a sentence, and there you have it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, it was a very hushed affair, and only those who had come out with me that night got this treatment. No women outisde of this circle were allowed to know or partake in this festivity. By any chance, I also did something most guys dream about happening to them. Well, I had 4 girls on sat night ask me for MY number. It was quite wierd, But anyway, I thought they were full of shit, but true enough last night I got a call from a couple of them. Of course, I usually ignore an unknown number, so I only knew it was them through voicemail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh its so fun being me sometimes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113259478795966897?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113259478795966897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113259478795966897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113259478795966897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113259478795966897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/11/how-i-outdid-myself.html' title='How I &quot;outdid&quot; myself'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113245758111708332</id><published>2005-11-19T22:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-19T22:33:01.126-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Went to my favorite country bar last night to demostrate my awesome Line Dancing skillz. Usual crap, got free drinks from the doll behind the bar. See the thing I ahte about going out with my guy friends is that when they see me get free drinks, They ask me either,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1."Dude how'd you do it?"&lt;br /&gt;First why the hell would I ever give away the secret to my success. No magician ever reveals his tricks. Its not as cool when everybody can get free drinks is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. "Can you get me a free drink?" This is the one that really gets me going. Go get your own damn fucking free drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a different note, I finally got a lil list of things to do short term.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Buy a guitar.&lt;br /&gt;2. learn to play the guitar.&lt;br /&gt;3. Go to class more than once a week.&lt;br /&gt;4. Quit world of warcraft in 1 month.&lt;br /&gt;5. Get a part time job.&lt;br /&gt;6. Continue my awesome gym routine. ( woohoo for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;almost&lt;/span&gt; 6-pack abs)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113245758111708332?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113245758111708332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113245758111708332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113245758111708332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113245758111708332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/11/went-to-my-favorite-country-bar-last.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113224980053740892</id><published>2005-11-17T12:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-17T12:50:00.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She</title><content type='html'>Today, I got an email from her. Made me a very happy man, and perhaps made my day. Sigh. Wonder how long I can live like this. heh. Maybe I'll stop being a prick for a day as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113224980053740892?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113224980053740892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113224980053740892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113224980053740892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113224980053740892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/11/she.html' title='She'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113209118329760884</id><published>2005-11-15T16:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T16:46:23.313-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The mall.</title><content type='html'>I was exciting the mall today, when i realised some lady was being carted away to an ambulance. I noticed her face was showing some sign of pain. And I said to her the first thing that came into my mind. "Shop till you drop eh?"&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHAHA. I'm such an asshole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113209118329760884?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113209118329760884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113209118329760884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113209118329760884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113209118329760884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/11/mall.html' title='The mall.'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113186968664172641</id><published>2005-11-13T03:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-13T03:14:46.650-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rach</title><content type='html'>So last night, I spent about 3 hours talking to a girl I knew in singapore, one of my few female friends remaining there. In our conversation, she asked me what she thought was the most important quality in the relationship I had. Without any doubt or oause, I stated that "she made me happy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 seconds after I made that  statement i almost broke into tears, not because it was true, but because of how matter of factly I had put it, even though I never thought about it, that was the best part of my relationship. My counterpart,  made me happy, made me happy to live my life, made me happy in the way I was doing things. Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113186968664172641?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113186968664172641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113186968664172641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113186968664172641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113186968664172641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/11/rach.html' title='Rach'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113149308124670810</id><published>2005-11-08T18:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-08T18:38:01.256-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Norah</title><content type='html'>Been in a relaxed and subtle mood today, worked out, skipped classes,  caught up on sleep, and Listened to some Norah Jones. Ah what a sweet voice she has.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a painter&lt;br /&gt;I would paint my reverie&lt;br /&gt;If that's the only way for you to be with me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'd be there together &lt;br /&gt;Just like we used to be&lt;br /&gt;Undertneath the swirling skies for all to see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm dreaming of a place&lt;br /&gt;Where I could see your face&lt;br /&gt;And I think my brush would tak eme there&lt;br /&gt;But only...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a painter&lt;br /&gt;And could paint a memory&lt;br /&gt;I'd climb inside the swirling skies to be with you&lt;br /&gt;I'd climb inside the skies to be with you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113149308124670810?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113149308124670810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113149308124670810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113149308124670810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113149308124670810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/11/norah.html' title='Norah'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113138823039249891</id><published>2005-11-07T12:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T13:30:30.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why my schoolmates hate me</title><content type='html'>So, after spending about 2 weeks on vacation, mainly just from school and classes, I decided to make my epic return. Of course, i was chided and made fun of for not coming to clas, etc by my friends. TO add insult to injury I had also missed 1 exam, 2 quizzes and 3 homeworks. ( i pretty much have 3 classes to go to. One that I dont care about cos Das&gt; Thermodynamics, 1 at 8 30 in the morning Monday, Wednesday and Fridays, and 1 Class tuesdays and thursdays.) What makes my classmates hate me? this is the description of sequents of events, and all conversations are verbatim of what occured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After morning class, during professor's office hours:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Das : "Hey Dr Correll"&lt;br /&gt;Correll: "Hey Das, how are you?"&lt;br /&gt;D: "Alrite, and yourself"&lt;br /&gt;C: "Good"&lt;br /&gt;D: "Well, I'm in here today, because as you may have noticed, I havent been to class in about 2 weeks"&lt;br /&gt;C: "yes, I did notice that, you missed an exam, an a quiz and a homework, what happened?"&lt;br /&gt;D: "Well,  2 weeks ago,  I had no drive to go to school, or to do anything for that matter. It was a very confusing time in my life, and I always belive that you have to have your heart and mind in the right place before you do anything, and since neither were on school, I did not come"&lt;br /&gt;C: "Ah ok, I totally understand, but what would you like to do about your exam, quiz and homework"&lt;br /&gt;D: "Make it up?"&lt;br /&gt;C: "Hmm, alrite tell you what, How about I jsut excuse you for the homeworks, and the quiz, and you can take a make up exam right now?"&lt;br /&gt;D: "yea sure"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15 mins later, I'm done. Easiest exam ever, obviously she made up the questions on the spot...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D: " Thanks Dr Correll"&lt;br /&gt;C: "Please call me Melanie"&lt;br /&gt;D: "Thanks Melanie?"&lt;br /&gt;C: "Not a problem"&lt;br /&gt;D: "Oh yea before I forget, hmm, I cant make it to class on wed and fri, because my buddy that picks me up, is going to a conference outa town, you know Adam?"&lt;br /&gt;C: "Oh not a problem, but where do you live?"&lt;br /&gt;D: "Just west of the mall"&lt;br /&gt;C: "You know I could come pick you up if you want to"&lt;br /&gt;D: "Uhhhh.sure"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gives me her phone number to call on wednesday morning so she knows how to get to my place. Unreal? Just another day in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113138823039249891?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113138823039249891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113138823039249891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113138823039249891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113138823039249891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/11/why-my-schoolmates-hate-me.html' title='Why my schoolmates hate me'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113103877140963849</id><published>2005-11-03T12:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-03T12:26:11.466-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yesterday and Today</title><content type='html'>This morning, as one of those days I actually felt motivated to go to school, I actually ran into an old collegue of mine. When I saw her, I automatically waved. She looked at me, gave no sign of recognition, and walked by. I was confused by this, and called out her name. Upon hearing this, she turned around, squinted at me(even though we were 5 feet away), and immediately recognised me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shelly: "Oh Das, wow it's beena  long time. Wait, what the hell happened to you? You look like you've been run over by a train"&lt;br /&gt;Das" Hey Shelly, it's a pleasure always, but what the heck are you talking about?"&lt;br /&gt;Shelly "Das, you look horrible, not the guy I used to know"&lt;br /&gt;Das"huh? Theres absolutely nothing wrong with me"&lt;br /&gt;Shelly "Ah ok, how are things going"&lt;br /&gt;Etc etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see the thing is I have been vehemently denying there is anything wrong with my appearance the past month or so. As a reality check, I decided to compare a recent picture with that of 4 months ago:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v324/darsvader/untitled.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;heh, I was quite amused. But anyways, I digress:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 minutes after I found out how much money I made, I wrote the blog, and I was the happiest man in the world. 15 minutes after I wrote the blog, I was the saddest man in the world. The series of consequences that caused this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Calling my parents, and then realising that I have to pay for my tuition next semester, which was no biggie, I had already expected this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. My friends finding out, and then telling me they are glad because now they don't have to lend me their cars or drive me anywhere. Which also I expected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. (the one that caused 95% of sadness) Realising that I have noone to actually share my happiness with. There is noone in my life, that I would be willing to give up all my money for(except my sis).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that really hit me hard. Suddenly feeling lost and lonely, I started towards a downward spiral of depression. But my female friends, no matter how far away they are, always seem to have a knack of calling me at the oppurtune moments just randomly, and somehow, I managed to regain my compusture for today, and find some amusement out of the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this was the lesson learnt:&lt;br /&gt;Money can bring immediate joy, but it's when you can actually share it with someone that you can experience prolonged happiness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113103877140963849?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113103877140963849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113103877140963849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113103877140963849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113103877140963849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/11/yesterday-and-today.html' title='Yesterday and Today'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113085731361167652</id><published>2005-11-01T09:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-01T10:01:53.630-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More money No problems</title><content type='html'>So, I ran into a little financial bump the other day. I realised the dwindling in my account status. Let's see now. What would any normal person that has little money in the bank do? Hmmmm.&lt;br /&gt;Find a job. Das= Not a normal person. As most people know, I like taking risks, especially when I'm not tied down to anything or anyone per say. So, I decided to take my life savings, yes another bundle of mula, and put it into say "high risk stock shares" Of course, this is considered suicide in mordern society, but in Das' life its just another day at the park. Risk of financial ruin? Sure bring it on, I'll just get over it. As it turns out as it often does. I made money, not little bit, not just a sufficient bit, but let's say higher end of the 5 figure mark. Or rather, just think of a number between 5-8 and add 4 0's after it. Lets see now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big Bold and flashy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v324/darsvader/05red1.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thrilling and adventurous?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v324/darsvader/index.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boring but Practical?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v324/darsvader/honda_civic_454576.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decisions decisions decisions. Sigh. Anyone that knows me well enough already knows what I'm gonna pick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113085731361167652?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113085731361167652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113085731361167652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113085731361167652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113085731361167652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/11/more-money-no-problems.html' title='More money No problems'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113063257337929385</id><published>2005-10-29T20:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-29T20:36:13.450-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow is Halloween. It's sorta reflective day for me. 3 years ago, I got my first car. But anyways, Went to a bar last night. Was abandoned by my roomates because they were too tired. So, I ended up going out with my buddy Adam, his gf and one heck of an annoying friend of Adam's gf. I was of course "God's gift to Women". Had a big bow slapped on my shirt, worn sorta like a sash with a ribbon, and a card that says&lt;br /&gt; "From: God,&lt;br /&gt;                       &lt;br /&gt;                                    To: Women"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My guy friends who heard I was going to do this mocked me and ridiculed me, that I was gonna get smirk remarks from women, etc etc. The usual bs I always have to put up with because noone has the balls to pull off what I want to do. Straight off the bat, Adam's gf and friend "Wow, that is an awesome costume. Original" Score 1 for Das.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to a "redneck" party, where its a bunch of late 20's guys, sitting around a bonfire, which was pretty much gay. After a coupla beers, and being totally out of place, I was then taken to the bar that we were supposed to go to. The usual comics, guys dressed up like schmuks, trying their best to get attention. Guys who spend a ridiculous amount of money on a costume that they're gonna wear for 2 days.(I spent 4 bucks. Last year I spend 5 bucks) The usual gainesville stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Every girl that I thought was cute, I would go up and ask her what her costume was, even if it was obvious. Then, no matter what she was wearing, I gave my interpretation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl "I'm a nurse."&lt;br /&gt;Das "You're a naughty nurse."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Girl "I'm a cop."&lt;br /&gt;Das "You're a naughty cop."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Girl "I'm a tree."&lt;br /&gt;Das "You're a naughty tree."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; It worked better than you might think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go get a beer at the bar. Bartender looks at me funny, and asks me the line I've been waiting for someone to ask me. "What makes you God's gift?" Answer : "I have 20 million dollars and terminal cancer". Score: Das 2. Bartender gives me free drinks most of the night and flirts with me. I could care less. Don't get me wrong, she was attractive, but not too smart. Beautiful house. Pity noone was home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THe above scene replicated itself with another hot girl. I answer with "13 inches was never big enough". I'm in, she thinks I'm hilarious, introduces me to her friends, their boyfriends, and her boyfriend. Ah yes. Splendid. Well, at least I was in. One of the boyfriends bought a round of shots, and wanted a toast. I don't know why, maybe because because I hadn't paid for shit and they expected something out of me, maybe because I had been entertaining them all night, everyone in this group turned to me to give the toast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Guy #1 "Hey, Gift Boy, give us a toast!" This statement was met with cheers from the table.&lt;br /&gt;D "Uhhh...OK...umm...To myself?"&lt;br /&gt; Booing and hissing rose up through the dozen or so toast participants.&lt;br /&gt;Das "I don't know, what kind of toast do you want."&lt;br /&gt; Guy #2 "A toast. A real toast; something funny."&lt;br /&gt; Guy #1 “Yeah, come on, Gift Boy! You can do it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize that the boyfriends were trying to make fun of me, setting me up for ridicule to make themselves look better in the eyes of their hot girlfriends. That's fine. I would have done the same thing. But they obviously did not know who they were dealing with. I got up on a chair, and prepared to address the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The room got quiet, I paused for dramatic effect, and gave the only funny toast I know:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; "Here’s to the women we've met, and to the women we've fucked,&lt;br /&gt; And to those amongst us who've had no such luck.&lt;br /&gt; Here’s to beer in the glass, and vodka in the cup,&lt;br /&gt; Here’s to pokin' her in the ass, so she won’t get knocked up.&lt;br /&gt; Here's to all of you, and here's to me,&lt;br /&gt; together as friends we'll always be,&lt;br /&gt; but if we should ever disagree,&lt;br /&gt; then FUCK ALL OF YOU, HERE'S TO ME!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never seen a bar erupt in a chaos of laughter as they did. I was a hero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But so ends day 1 of halloween. My phone had been glitching on me the whole of the day, and for some reason even though I had no battery left, it was telling me I had full life, and it was constantly being recharged. Wierd eh. But anyways, pulled out my phone to get a girl's no. cos she was having a party tonight and wanted to invite me, and lo and behold my phone had died. After trusting 5 girls with my number, and for them to call me, and giving them the "I'm counting on you to call me" crap speech, I'm sitting at home at 9, still waiting. Oh well. Signing off ya'all. Hope things are well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113063257337929385?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113063257337929385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113063257337929385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113063257337929385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113063257337929385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-113030581401614290</id><published>2005-10-26T01:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-26T01:50:14.023-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Break away</title><content type='html'>If melody&lt;br /&gt; is my destiny&lt;br /&gt; then what's left of me,&lt;br /&gt; i'll give to you..&lt;br /&gt; and if next to me,&lt;br /&gt; is all that you need to be&lt;br /&gt; would you settle for fantasy,&lt;br /&gt; if it's the best you could do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; can I have my cake?&lt;br /&gt; can i have you too?&lt;br /&gt; would you follow me?&lt;br /&gt; could i ask you to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; would the world between us,&lt;br /&gt; break these ties?&lt;br /&gt; we worked so hard&lt;br /&gt; to realize..&lt;br /&gt; can a postcard say,&lt;br /&gt; what i see in your eyes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; could i ever break away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; would i be satisfied,&lt;br /&gt; and find peace inside&lt;br /&gt; rolling half my life&lt;br /&gt; over broken white lines?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; can i have my cake,&lt;br /&gt; can i have you too?&lt;br /&gt; would you follow me,&lt;br /&gt; could i ask you too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; will i wake up one morning,&lt;br /&gt; and see your face&lt;br /&gt; and the streaks on the window,&lt;br /&gt; that the rainstorm makes?&lt;br /&gt; could you bear all the waiting,&lt;br /&gt; and the strength that it takes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; could i ever break away?&lt;br /&gt; could i ever break away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; can i have my cake?&lt;br /&gt; can i have you too?&lt;br /&gt; would you follow me?&lt;br /&gt; could i ask you to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; would the world between us,&lt;br /&gt; break these ties?&lt;br /&gt; we worked so hard to realize..&lt;br /&gt; can a postcard say,&lt;br /&gt; what i see in your eyes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; could i ever break away?&lt;br /&gt; could i ever break away?&lt;br /&gt; away...&lt;br /&gt; away..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Mayer is a genious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-113030581401614290?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/113030581401614290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=113030581401614290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113030581401614290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/113030581401614290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/break-away.html' title='Break away'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112950320642085828</id><published>2005-10-16T18:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T23:59:26.066-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"My December"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my December&lt;br /&gt;This is my time of the year&lt;br /&gt;This is my December&lt;br /&gt;This is all so clear&lt;br /&gt;This is my December&lt;br /&gt;This is my snow covered home&lt;br /&gt;This is my December&lt;br /&gt;This is me alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I&lt;br /&gt;Just wish that&lt;br /&gt;I didn't feel&lt;br /&gt;Like there was&lt;br /&gt;Something I missed&lt;br /&gt;And I&lt;br /&gt;Take back all&lt;br /&gt;The things I said&lt;br /&gt;To make you&lt;br /&gt;Feel like that&lt;br /&gt;And I&lt;br /&gt;Just wish that&lt;br /&gt;I didn't feel&lt;br /&gt;Like there was&lt;br /&gt;Something I missed&lt;br /&gt;And I&lt;br /&gt;Take back all the&lt;br /&gt;Things I said to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I give it all away&lt;br /&gt;Just to have somewhere&lt;br /&gt;To go to&lt;br /&gt;Give it all away&lt;br /&gt;To have someone&lt;br /&gt;To come home to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my December&lt;br /&gt;These are my snow-covered trees&lt;br /&gt;This is me pretending&lt;br /&gt;This is all I need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I&lt;br /&gt;Just wish that&lt;br /&gt;I didn't feel&lt;br /&gt;Like there was&lt;br /&gt;Something I missed&lt;br /&gt;And I&lt;br /&gt;Take back all&lt;br /&gt;The things I said&lt;br /&gt;To make you feel like that&lt;br /&gt;And I&lt;br /&gt;Just wish that&lt;br /&gt;I didn't feel&lt;br /&gt;Like there was&lt;br /&gt;Something I missed&lt;br /&gt;And I&lt;br /&gt;Take back all the things&lt;br /&gt;I said to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I give it all away&lt;br /&gt;Just to have&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere to go to&lt;br /&gt;Give it all away&lt;br /&gt;To have someone&lt;br /&gt;To come home to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my December&lt;br /&gt;This is my time of the year&lt;br /&gt;This is my December&lt;br /&gt;This is all so clear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I give it all away&lt;br /&gt;Just to have somewhere&lt;br /&gt;To go to&lt;br /&gt;Give it all away&lt;br /&gt;To have someone&lt;br /&gt;To come home to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112950320642085828?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112950320642085828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112950320642085828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112950320642085828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112950320642085828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/my-december.html' title='&quot;My December&quot;'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112943425272887521</id><published>2005-10-15T23:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-15T23:44:12.733-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Actually it was quite an interesting night. So we get to the restaurant, and I meet this incredibly gorgeous girl, and I am introduced. I fail to get her name, because I am standing here not believing my luck. Tim actually got me a hot girl. And then my mind decided to come to terms with reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mind: "Wait a second, it was supposed to be an indian girl. She's not indian. In fact she's as white as a canadian hockey player"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My optimistic thought process: "Maybe there's more than 1 girl Tim wanted me to meet. W00t! That's fucking awesome"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reasonable Mind: "No wait. He called me and said 1 indian girl, and that I should behave myself"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reality: She was in fact just a friend of the indian girl. We will call her "x" Infact she had the same name as my cousin, and wierd as it might be looked exactly like her. Hmmm. After almost completely ignoring her and focusing on hot girl, I realised hot girl had a boyfriend. So there ended my fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that I was dragged to an indian cultural event. You know life is sad when you're indian and get dragged to an indian cultural event by someone who's from the country from Pennsylvania. Of course I felt outa place, but it was humorous, the responses I was getting from women. Everyone was dressed in Indian attire. Colorful Sari's, and the other stuff that indian girls wear. Don't know the name. And guys were wearing traditional clothes. Me, my awesome red shirt with blaring white words, and shorts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did get to meet a buddy of mine, who just ended a relationship with a girl. Me and him were best buddies, because both of us are indian and were the outcasts I might add from the indian society. We were also at one point of time dating chinese women. His story of the end of his relationship : She blamed him for giving her STD's. He lost his virginity to her. I couldnt help but bust out laughing. And he laughed with me till tears welled in our eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the highlight of my day came when I saw what I considered to be the most beautiful indian girl I had set eyes on on campus. I was hooked. Turned on my A game, but unfortunately she got away before I got the courage to approach her. Oh well. Another day, another time. Till then, I'm out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112943425272887521?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112943425272887521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112943425272887521' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112943425272887521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112943425272887521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/actually-it-was-quite-interesting.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112940891966224646</id><published>2005-10-15T16:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-15T16:41:59.666-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in the game?</title><content type='html'>So, Tim felt that it was his sworn duty to try and hook me up with women. Yes, Tim. So as you could guess, I'm not going to have too high expectations. So anyways, the girl that he wanted to hook me up with, apparently we are doing a double date tonight. I thought heck I'd give it a try. Maybe she'll come out so bruised that she wouldnt want to see me, and Tim wouldnt want to ever try and hook me up. Maybe not, if she's actually "cute".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dress code for the date: T shirt and shorts, and sandals. Uncombed, messy hair, underneathe a hat, turned the other way. My t-shirt exclaims " Sorry Ladies, I only date models". HAHHAHAHAHAHAHA. I'm going to have a blast tonite. ANd Tim is going to hate me. Being an asshole is so fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112940891966224646?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112940891966224646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112940891966224646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112940891966224646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112940891966224646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/back-in-game.html' title='Back in the game?'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112930947036864960</id><published>2005-10-14T12:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-14T13:04:30.373-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I realised 2 things today.&lt;br /&gt;1. I feel guilty about being an asshole yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;2. Being an asshole was in reality quite rewarding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I say that? I got an email back from the sponsers of the event. 4 girls put me down as a yes. Do realise I put down 4 girls for yes as well, which means, that I got a 100% success rate. However, I will not call/email these girls for these reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I'm an asshole, or rather have become one.&lt;br /&gt;2. I'm not sure if they are the girls I found attractive, and am in no mood to go out on a limb to meet them, and then be completely unattracted and then as much as I would like being an asshole, and not acknowledge their existance, I think the guilt will haunt me for a couple of hours/days, whatever, so I'll pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This makes me wonder. Do girls here like assholes? I mean do they really like to be talked back, and completely made fun of? Or did they think I was just trying to be funny and think "heck I'll give him a chance". Because from what I remember, not one girl laughed, and I was nearly bursting out of my seat with laughter upon their agast faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: Might I mention that at the beginning, when the host was explaining to the guys how we're supposed to rotate, and as a joke, said "If you don't know where to go next, follow the guy in front of you". This remark could not go uncommented, and I came back with a "The last time I did that I got syphillis." I was immediate branded as "that guy", amid some snickers.&lt;br /&gt;So, the women obviously knew what they were getting into. Hmmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, hope everybody is doing fine in Singapore. And Wen, if you boyfriend needs any help here in the states, though I am far far away from him, do let him know not to hesitate to gimme a ringading, or write me an email.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112930947036864960?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112930947036864960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112930947036864960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112930947036864960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112930947036864960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/i-realised-2-things-today.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112921908385170028</id><published>2005-10-13T11:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T16:33:47.240-04:00</updated><title type='text'>3 minute dating anyone?</title><content type='html'>So my friend took me along to accompany him on for a 3 minute dating thing. Basically I went along for the free booze. I guess a single's awareness group was throwing this lil shindig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is how it works. All the women(30 of them) sit on different tables. You have 3 minutes to talk to each girl, and then you move on when a whistle blows. Each person wears a numbered name tag, and you have a sheet of paper, where you can mark "Yes" or "No". And within some period of time, the organizors match who likes who, and emails each other the email addies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The qualities of the women were much better than I thought it would be. needless to say, I wasnt too dissapointed. Not too many attractive women, maybe 3-4. But anyways, I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the best part about this is that you get different girls who ask you the same question again and again. And anyone who knows me, knows that I'm not too fond of routine. the two main ones being, "Have you ever done this before," and "What do you do?" I got bored, so I took matters to my own hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl "So, have you ever done this before?"&lt;br /&gt;Me "No. I'm just here for the free booze."&lt;br /&gt;Girl "We don't get free beer."&lt;br /&gt;Me "What? You mean I paid $15 just to talk to you?!? Oh...that's a treat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl "So, have you ever done this before?"&lt;br /&gt;Me "Done this before? I don't even know where I am. I just woke up, I feel strange, and I think I'm missing a kidney. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl "What do you do?"&lt;br /&gt;Me "I'm just a bum on the street hoping to feed in the action "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One girl who was possibly more manic than me started blabbering on and on about her beliefs. Needless to say, they were idiotic. I finally had to set her straight:&lt;br /&gt;Her "I definitely believe in fate."&lt;br /&gt;Me "Do you believe that fate brought us together?"&lt;br /&gt;Her "Oh yeah."&lt;br /&gt;Me "Fate must hate you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the thing, I realised that I had forgotten to mark down the girls for the ones I liked, so I just went off my friend's description and managed to mark off 4 I thought I was interested in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112921908385170028?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112921908385170028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112921908385170028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112921908385170028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112921908385170028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/3-minute-dating-anyone.html' title='3 minute dating anyone?'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112914150192150012</id><published>2005-10-12T14:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-12T14:25:01.926-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>SO I get a voicemail from Tim this afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Das, this is Tim. I just met this indian girl, her name is oh damn i forgot. But anyways, we were talking about religion and she told me she worshipped the god of destruction, whatever his name is . Well, the point of the matter is, I called because I felt she was quite cute. Sooo, Maybe you guys should get together. I'll ask Kristen(his gf who apparently knows this girl) whether she's single or not, and maybe you guys can get together."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My call to Tim&lt;br /&gt;"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH... No"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear it was the drugs again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112914150192150012?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112914150192150012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112914150192150012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112914150192150012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112914150192150012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/so-i-get-voicemail-from-tim-this.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112908750279162674</id><published>2005-10-11T23:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-11T23:25:02.796-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Songie songie I wrotie,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just walked into the bar and I found me a seat,&lt;br /&gt;When up comes this hefer with only 2 teeth,&lt;br /&gt;But I'm sure she'll be pretty an hour from now,&lt;br /&gt;After 2 shots of whiskey and 4 pints of stout,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked me my name, and I started to choke,&lt;br /&gt;because I saw her face when I lit up her smoke,&lt;br /&gt;She has lot of hair on the top of her lip,&lt;br /&gt;So I lifted my guiness and took a big sip,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The voice from my job is leaving my head,&lt;br /&gt;But the last thing I want is to slip off to bed,&lt;br /&gt;Unless it's with someone who's sexy and pretty,&lt;br /&gt;Long legs, nice ass and humongus titties,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just spilt my drink on my good pair of shoes,&lt;br /&gt;and lit the wrong end of my cigerette too,&lt;br /&gt;I'll be more confused after I'm finished,&lt;br /&gt;With 2 shots of whiskey and 4 pints of guiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This drunk starts to talk, and I have to listen,&lt;br /&gt;He's in the next stall, and I'm not finished pissin' ,&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm not really sure what he's mumbling about,&lt;br /&gt;He's had 2 shots of whiskey and 4 pints of stout,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure I'll be hungry when I wake up at noon,&lt;br /&gt;Though I had a big breakfast and a healthy lunch too,&lt;br /&gt;But instead of the dinner that I thought about,&lt;br /&gt;I had 2 shots of whiskey and 4 pints of stout,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's one hour later, and I'm still at my seat,&lt;br /&gt;When up comes this woman, as fine as can be,&lt;br /&gt;She said she met me when I walked in the door,&lt;br /&gt;So I looked at my guiness and ordered 4 more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ta-da, the marvels of pain relievers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112908750279162674?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112908750279162674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112908750279162674' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112908750279162674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112908750279162674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/songie-songie-i-wrotie-i-just-walked.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-112905565367741718</id><published>2005-10-11T14:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-11T14:34:13.683-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Oh yea this is wonderful. I'm in lab working on my project, and suddenly I hear a "crack". Hmm, in about 2 seconds, I find my back in a ridiculuos amout of pain, and i suddenly realise I can't sit anymore because it hurts too much. I try to stand, and woah-la!! I cant feel my legs and immediately crash into the ground. Afdter being carted away to the hospital, and treated and being diagnosed with some sort of disk problem(I wasnt paying attention, was in too much pain), here I am stuck in the hospital room, with a lappy free of charge, constantly on pain killers and doped up. YAY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112905565367741718?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112905565367741718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112905565367741718' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112905565367741718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112905565367741718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/oh-yea-this-is-wonderful.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-112899740816202872</id><published>2005-10-10T22:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-11T11:06:47.046-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Life seems to have taken an unexpected turn. Well, starting today it'll all be different. I got it all out of my head, and I've decided to start anew. New women, New attitude, new job, new clothes, the whole shindig. I start to wonder, what If I had actually called Paris back. Sure it would have been a 1 time affair, but at least I would have been basking in the life of a celebrity for that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; If there was one thing I gave Ting, it was complete and total independence. I never asked where she went, and if I did, and she refused to mention, I never intruded. I never asked her tell me where and who she was going out with. If she called me after a long night, I would simply ask if she had a good time. Maybe it was my mistake, maybe I should have been more forceful, but I know she's too independant and driven for me to even attempt that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But life always throws us twists and curves, thats why we learnt to steer. We learnt to dodge. We learn to pick ourselves up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one time, I was riding my bike, and fell. My dad rushed over to me, and asked me, "Darshan, why do we fall? So we can learn to get up" And now it seems that advice will be well heeded. If i spelt heed right =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the first time, I feel free, inclined not to do something because I have an attachment somewhere else. Also Ting, in case you were wondering, I did not want to take you skiidiving because I was afraid, I would lose you to some random mishap or more so, I was afraid you might not follow a certain safety protocols, since there are lets see, something close to 12-13. . I was so afraid, I did not tell you, and let it pass. But anyways, I can go join the CIA, I can go work anywhere in the friggin world if I can find a job, I can save my money so I can buy myself a car.&lt;br /&gt;I can start dating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyways, I hope everyone is doing well. My mind and my heart is a mess right now, but Halloween is coming, and hopefully we can make a visit to some doctor nurses parties. For now, I'm signing off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S : And everytime "your song" by Elton John, or "Your body is a wonderland" by John Mayer, or "Amazed" by Lonestar, be rest assured that I will be thinking of you. No matter what happened I guess you will still have a small place in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I said some things in hate, and in total despsise that I shouldnt have. Sorry to the people that I hurt. Sigh. Sometimes I do hate myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112899740816202872?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112899740816202872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112899740816202872' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112899740816202872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112899740816202872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/life-seems-to-have-taken-unexpected.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-112884591248894218</id><published>2005-10-09T04:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-09T04:18:32.493-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Darling, those tired eyes&lt;br /&gt; Go with me all the time.&lt;br /&gt; And in the dead of night&lt;br /&gt; Tell me you will be mine.&lt;br /&gt; Where do you go to, pretty baby?&lt;br /&gt; Where do you go to, when the night wins away.&lt;br /&gt; Ask me so sweetly, what do I do?&lt;br /&gt; Who do I sing for?&lt;br /&gt; Well honey I sing about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; You.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112884591248894218?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112884591248894218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112884591248894218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112884591248894218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112884591248894218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/10/darling-those-tired-eyes-go-with-me.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112748806351246454</id><published>2005-09-23T10:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T11:07:43.516-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiredness of life.</title><content type='html'>I'm just so damn Tired. Today has been the first day I've been physically able to go to school in 3 days, after being completely shut out by some flu. I lost 9 pounds(2 kg) in like less than a week. The good news is at least my "belly" is almost gone. It's sorta wierd that this 3 hours of sleep schedule and 14 hours or so a day of studying schedule that I followed for 1 week completely burnt me out. I have no desire to go to class, or to even pick up my books to read the title. My parents obviosuly dont understand with the "You got to do what you got to do" mentality. I really want to graduate in December, but it seems that I cant continue with my rampant studying for too much longer before I can crash and burn again. Next week is career fair, giving me something to look forward to. Maybe I can try and land me an interview or 2 to pump up my spirits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish I could talk to my girlfriend, but she's out with her Wisedom teeth removal, and probably busy with other stuff. It's been nice that once or twice a day my friends drop in to check in on me. It's a nice feeling, t be loved. Now, I've got to go and type out my emailes to the various professors, proclaiming my reason for not going to classes, and follow up this weekend with a bit of catch-up studying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on, this morning, when the alarm clock rang, I pre-emtively took one hand and put it on the snooze button for the first time in my life. And 2 seconds later, I debated with myself that by doing so, I'll eventually convince myself to turn off the alarm clock and go to bed, and just got up.&lt;br /&gt;And somehow, I felt that I've made my first step to normality, at least normality for me.&lt;br /&gt;Well, hope everyone is doing well. Take care all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112748806351246454?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112748806351246454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112748806351246454' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112748806351246454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112748806351246454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/09/tiredness-of-life.html' title='Tiredness of life.'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112684185275602069</id><published>2005-09-15T23:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-16T09:41:48.610-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>IF you dont fucking know me, dont leave a fucking comment, especially if you're trying to advertise something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sigh, Guess that doesnt work. Maybe I should ask nicely :-/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112684185275602069?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112684185275602069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112684185275602069' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112684185275602069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112684185275602069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/09/if-you-dont-fucking-know-me-dont-leave.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-112683189111041506</id><published>2005-09-15T20:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-16T09:41:07.230-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today I learnt that sometimes you have to go back to your past to find the answers for tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112683189111041506?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112683189111041506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112683189111041506' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112683189111041506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112683189111041506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/09/today-i-learnt-that-sometimes-you-have.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-112682207672015582</id><published>2005-09-15T18:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-15T18:07:56.726-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Maybe I AM fated to be a loner, with my preferred career choice, and all.&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112682207672015582?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112682207672015582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112682207672015582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112682207672015582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112682207672015582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/09/maybe-i-am-fated-to-be-loner-with-my.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112674525954828740</id><published>2005-09-14T20:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-14T20:47:39.553-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ah the new roomies</title><content type='html'>Today, I realised that true to my guess, Jimmy is indeed a big fat loser. So, I just got off a game of Basketball. I'm up 4 points. We're playing till 11. Ball goes out of bounds, Jimmy's last touch. So, i calmly walk over to get the ball. Jimmy runs past me, beats me to the ball, and goes for the goal. I'm like wtf, that's out of bounds. He's like " we never established that before the game". So, I'm not sure whether this is right, but there probably is a line dictating the boundary of the field for some reason right? I mean seriously, what kinda nonsense is that. I'm like whatever, he wants to be a baby, i'll let him be. Then he starts taking points from me, claiming I never made them, and then adding points for himself, claiming he made them. And then he tells me after the game his strategy. " I saw you were slightly tired, so I would purposely shoot it so it rebounds and make you chase after it, so you can get more tired" I dont know what this is, but it seems to me a big case of the loser syndrome. Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112674525954828740?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112674525954828740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112674525954828740' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112674525954828740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112674525954828740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/09/ah-new-roomies.html' title='Ah the new roomies'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-112654501637946463</id><published>2005-09-12T13:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-12T13:10:16.386-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's been almost 2 months since I wrote a blog. But I finally got an oppurtunity and actually felt like doing it today. TOmorrow I turn 22. Feels sorta surreal. As though the last 5 years have flashed past me without me knowing. I cant remember what I did last year on my birthday, but I do believe it involved drinking and partying. Seems as though this year will be very much different. A casual dinner with my close friends followed by some homework and sleep will be the agenda for tomorrow. Things have changed in the last year, and I think so have the people I know. Well, now that I've got to go finish my work for the day, so as to not have anything to do when i get back home, I'll be off. Adios.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112654501637946463?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112654501637946463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112654501637946463' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112654501637946463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112654501637946463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/09/its-been-almost-2-months-since-i-wrote.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-112277873643827341</id><published>2005-07-30T22:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-30T22:58:56.460-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Religion</title><content type='html'>I was going through my prayer book just now. Had been a long week, and I thought looking into the book may actually do me more good than anything else. But anyways, i like this book, because it has a prayer dedicated to one god, and though the prayer is in sanskrit, it's translated into english as well. So, I can actualy understand what I'm receiting. And below both versions, they have excerps from the equivalent of the Christian Bible. The reason I brought it all up, was because of a certain line I found. It read " On the tree of Absoloute Truth, there hang innumerable branches of Ramas, Krishnas, Buddhas, Christs, etc. Out of these, one or two now and then come down into this world and produce mighty changes and revolutions. " For some reason this really intrigued me, cos this book was written over a thousand years ago. I thought it was great that Hinduism seemed to accept the other religions and appreciate them as well. Anyways, time for bed after 12 hours of moving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112277873643827341?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112277873643827341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112277873643827341' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112277873643827341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112277873643827341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/07/religion.html' title='Religion'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195109.post-112255938033766254</id><published>2005-07-28T10:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-28T10:03:00.343-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Hit and Run</title><content type='html'>I was getting ready for school, and chillen, listening to my music, when a particular song, that I never really paid attention to caught my mind. Looked up the lyrics, and realised what a great song it was. By my favorite band, Third eye Blind, I present to you, my hit and run:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pre&gt;Feel the speed through the intersection&lt;br /&gt;Sheets of rain I seek out cars&lt;br /&gt;Hands in gloves grip handlebars&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ride alone to the pub in the dark&lt;br /&gt;I get a little wet but I don’t have to park&lt;br /&gt;And the lights start flashing green and red as I ride&lt;br /&gt;A car turns left and I slide&lt;br /&gt;I can’t turn back&lt;br /&gt;I make contact&lt;br /&gt;Blinkers smash into mosaic&lt;br /&gt;Then I start flying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Always think we get more time&lt;br /&gt;Now flying through the air&lt;br /&gt;Maybe living maybe dying&lt;br /&gt;In this motor crash it's you who comes to mind&lt;br /&gt;Don’t we always wish had more time "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m thrust slow mo through time and space&lt;br /&gt;Details smash and&lt;br /&gt;I protect my face&lt;br /&gt;And then I see yours&lt;br /&gt;And go to a time when we just knew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mister death in the car below&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't even slow&lt;br /&gt;And away he goes&lt;br /&gt;In the majesty of a motor crash&lt;br /&gt;You skid into my darkness forming&lt;br /&gt;Sex and death, heartbreak and strife&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here it comes, my hit and run&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come down hard and roll to my feet&lt;br /&gt;And rain washes blood now off concrete&lt;br /&gt;People turn away and I just had to laugh&lt;br /&gt;Cause I’m still flying&lt;br /&gt;Living and dying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I’d like to thank mister death for what he's done&lt;br /&gt;Cause I got to walk away from my hit and run&lt;br /&gt;Mysteries are not so empty&lt;br /&gt;Cause I saw you&lt;br /&gt;At my hit and run&lt;br /&gt;But I give no warning &lt;/pre&gt; Love the chorus. (in "s)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112255938033766254?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112255938033766254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112255938033766254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112255938033766254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112255938033766254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/07/my-hit-and-run.html' title='My Hit and Run'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112190247122245655</id><published>2005-07-20T19:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T19:36:14.320-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tampa Trip</title><content type='html'>Just got back an hour ago from my Conference. I must say that was the most dissapointing conference I've ever been to. There were no prospective employers for me, and it seems everything taht we did failed. First was my speech. After being promised an over 100 turnout, I believe like 20 people came, of that 5, my friends. Next my Poster session. Instead of being an undergraduate design poster competition it was an international Biological Poster challenge, with people of all ages and different countries, with an insane amout of funding what it looked like. My poster looked so drab and dull next to theirs, even though I must admit, the judges did say mine was the most interesting. So I didnt win taht apparently. Then came the Fountain Wars design competition. We had 2 different things to do. 1. An obstacle course. Hit a coke can 30 feet away, put out a tiki torch 25 feet away and roll a 2 litre coke bottle 10 feet away, by 2 feet. All using water power of course. 2. Launch a tennis ball as far as possible using only water power, i.e no compressed gas. Distance traveelled over time taken is used in determining rankings. At our presentation, it was obvious that we were going to win. Noone else even came close to our 180 feet in 8 second launch time. The closest was 60 feet in 10 seconds. But nope. One of the guys forgot some vital stuff in the labs here, and hence we didnt manage to build it on the 1 1/2 hr time frame we got. So, some penalty in points there. Of course the worst had to happen and due to technical reasons we only launched the ball half the distance in twice the time. Frustrating, yes. But I wasnt in charge of that part, so it wasnt really my problem. My part was the obstacle course. So, anyways, I'd never tested my design, it was just supposed to work in theory. One team had a nozzle extending 15 feet towards the fuckin coke can, which I thought was fuckin bullshit, except the judges( by the way our College has had the unfortunate circumstance of being hated by almost every other school, due to rivalry in sports) But as it is, I managed to knockout both coke can and roll the bottle the fastest. Then came the tiki torch. I swear we were set up. I put it out once, and walked away from my nozzle with the crowd in insane applause being the fastest to finish. Then surprisingly, the tiki torch comes back on. I already had walked like 20 steps away. Running back, I did it again, and put it out. Looked at it for 10 secs to make sure it was out, and walked away. 2 steps later, it comes back on. At that point I just wanted to take out my hammer and completely destroy my water gun. I couldnt think of anything more frustrating. So there, my crappy weekend. At least I can say it was sort of a vacation. I think we drank almost every night, and had a really great time outside the conference, but in retrospect, I think they could have done a better job at organizing the employer meeting student thing. Sigh. The Job hunt will continue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://uk.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/darshanlives/album?.dir=/ddd6&amp;.src=ph&amp;amp;.tok=ph_MYVDBaKu3zRAv"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Pics:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112190247122245655?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112190247122245655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112190247122245655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112190247122245655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112190247122245655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/07/tampa-trip.html' title='Tampa Trip'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-112026692221001569</id><published>2005-07-01T21:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-01T21:15:22.216-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today Doug took Cappy away. I felt so lonely alone in my house. Noam's away for the weekend visiting his dad. I mean I'm used to being alone in the house, but also found some comfort in looking at my bed and seeing Cappy lying on it, staring at me. Stretching perhaps, sleeping in a little ball as well. But now, the house is really empty. Take away the nice entertainment center we had, and our 32 inch tv, and the only form of entertainment is my computer, and I'm sick of video games. You could say, I'm gonna be bored to death this weekend. Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-112026692221001569?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/112026692221001569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=112026692221001569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112026692221001569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/112026692221001569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/07/today-doug-took-cappy-away.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111854997750086280</id><published>2005-06-12T00:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-12T00:19:37.506-04:00</updated><title type='text'>El Knot</title><content type='html'>So, today I felt that knot, you know the kind when you're sad, the kind you get when someone you've known for a long time has decided to leave. Well, tonight Tim left to go for his internship in Seattle. THough I bitched at him, and all of that, I still love him, and it saddens me to see him go, knowing that even when he comes back, we won't get to see each other as often as we do now. Our lives have taken different paths. But, need to study for Organic tomorrow, and prepare for Ting, for which of course I'm damn happy. Feels like she's already moved in. Got her own shampoo, own dresser space, her own toothbrush, toothpaste, shower gel, shaving gel, own side of the bed, even her own candy. heh. 44 more hours =). Take care guys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111854997750086280?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111854997750086280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111854997750086280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111854997750086280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111854997750086280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/06/el-knot.html' title='El Knot'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111837531482984233</id><published>2005-06-09T23:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-09T23:49:43.143-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hey all. Exciting, and in a way interesting day. Doug's grandmom passed away yesterday and he and Amanda had to go out of state for the funeral. However, they had just gotten a dog, and decided to place it in the care of me Tim, and Noam. Now, you might be like oh that's cool, its a dog. It's a great Dane. And for those who are not aware, Great Danes are the biggest dog breed in the world. They're the size of ponies :-( So, I have this 2 year old dog, that's about 20 cm taller than me standing up, weighs more than me, sleeping on my couch in the living room. Don't worry Ting, she's only here till Sunday. But anyways, she is the sweetest dog in the world. She's scared of people, who would have thought. Cappy isnt taking too well to this giant, and she has chosen to stay hidden almost 85% of the day and when she comes out, I have to accompany her to her food bowl and drink bowl so she can eat without being scared. Sorta cute. But anyways, tomorrow I take my driving test. Take care all. Good nite.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111837531482984233?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111837531482984233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111837531482984233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111837531482984233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111837531482984233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/06/hey-all.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111811041056465083</id><published>2005-06-06T22:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T22:13:30.570-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Time to bitch</title><content type='html'>So now that I've said all the happy things about my roomates, my status quo with them has changed, except doug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Noam:&lt;br /&gt;I was playing foozball today, and I told him that I'd take the foozball table with me to the house I live in. As an act of spite, he now wants me to pay him the 25 bucks of his part the foozball table is worth. AND, he wants me to pay him 25 bucks for the washer and dryer that he has used for 2 years. It was 25 bucks each way when he bought it, but apparently,  depreciability is not something he can understand. SO i asked him to take it home with him and give me 25 bucks. He shut the fuck up. I dont understand why he is so friggin jealous or spiteful or whatever the fuck it is called. It's retarded childish games that he plays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tim:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 2 months of repieatedly telling me he's getting a phone, and me asking him not to get the same phone as me, because it's one of the reasons I got it, what does he do? Get the same fuckin hpone. What a dick. Apparently, he likes it too much.  I am friggin mad. Well, do understand this:&lt;br /&gt;I get a pair of faded jeans, he goes to the store, and gets the same exact pair of jeans his size, because he likes them. I get a certain brand of cologne, he gets the same exact brand because he likes it. Deodrant, body wash, after shave. Every fucking thing. The phone was like the last straw that made me really mad. Arrrgghhhh. Get your own fuckin style u eunach.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111811041056465083?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111811041056465083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111811041056465083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111811041056465083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111811041056465083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/06/time-to-bitch.html' title='Time to bitch'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111810758603543140</id><published>2005-06-06T21:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T21:26:26.040-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the kinda thing you don't think about</title><content type='html'>Today was actually quite a reality check. Tim moved out of our house for good. I mean he didnt just ditch us or anything. His intership starts sometime next week, and he doesnt have time to take off during the internship to come move out at the end of July. So, he moved out today, taking the oppurtunity that Doug was home(he has a pickup truck). I was actually quite sad. never thought about what would happen in a coupla months when my roomates and I go seperate ways. Doug will be married, Noam will be working a real job, Tim will be living somewhere else, and I will be finishing up my last semester. Add to that, I will be getting a car soon, and the fact I won't have to work, I think its a relief. These 3 years, I have always hoped for one thing. That at some point of time, all of us will have female companionship. And it has finally happened in the last coupla weeks. Tim found himself a girl. Well, he used to like her 3 years ago, but she rejected him. Apparently feelings change.  But anyways I'm happy for all of us. It seems all of us have calmed down with all the partying and the crazyness and late nights and the over drinking. Don't think any of us has touched a drink in more than 2 weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, in 1 week, Ting will be here. SO pretty excited. Still cleaning up my room, making it spotless and all that good stuff. I have 2 exams of upmost importance next week as well, which should make for a very interesting first week. But till the next time, take care everybody.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111810758603543140?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111810758603543140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111810758603543140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111810758603543140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111810758603543140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/06/kinda-thing-you-dont-think-about.html' title='the kinda thing you don&apos;t think about'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111747704527932553</id><published>2005-05-30T14:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-30T14:17:25.283-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Decided to check out the practise exam for my Organic exam. It's probably the most challenging yet somewhat more interesting of classes I have taken. I admit it's been a while since I felt this way, but seriously, I look at the exam, and realised i Knew how to do not one problem. FUUUUUUUCK! The last exam, I looked at the practise test and knew to do most of the problems, and I was so confident, yet I got a measly 68, which here is a D. :-( I don't know how I'm gonna pss this next exam unless I actually bother to study. And the fact atht I cant withdraw from any classes till I graduate or I'll never graduate fuckin bugs me. I'm screwed. Blah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to study I suppose&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111747704527932553?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111747704527932553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111747704527932553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111747704527932553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111747704527932553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/05/decided-to-check-out-practise-exam-for.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111705705208620130</id><published>2005-05-25T17:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T17:37:32.113-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So today I was like, so Ting, am I not Dashing and exuberate mysterious charm like your so called "ex-crush". She started laughing uncontrollably for the next 2 minutes. I was dissapointed. I felt betrayed. I felt abandoned. So, I said look, I'll post pics of myself in the most serious form, and your friends can decide whether or not I am dashing and charming. Ok I didnt really say that, but I thought I'd make my point.&lt;br /&gt;So enjoy. Hardly do women get to swwon over such a chance. haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not too many guys in posters eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v324/darsvader/adiDas_poster.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oooooh yea look at that charm. Friggin OOzing I tell you, Oozing out of that picture. Pure unadulterated charm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v324/darsvader/cap_049.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If a solo pic isnt enough check out this ladies man:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v324/darsvader/1f1f.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy on a bike. Much less the fastest one in the world.  So, it's in pieces. Dead sexy. Dead fuckin sexy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v324/darsvader/r1-1.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111705705208620130?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111705705208620130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111705705208620130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111705705208620130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111705705208620130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/05/so-today-i-was-like-so-ting-am-i-not.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111654806441206090</id><published>2005-05-19T20:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-19T20:14:24.416-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hey Wen, real quick, I just wanted to say that my girlfriend tricked me into believing that she changed her number. I'm gullible only because she had such a sweet voice when she said it. Who woulda thought she was sneakily laughing at me. And then she calls me a "shithead". Tsk tsk. We'll see who has the last laugh when she comes here, and I dont pick her up at the airport. :-p&lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone's doing well. Andre, its time to get a girl. And Wen, hopefully stomach flu has gone away by now. My sis had it not too long ago. Drink plenty o' water. It helps =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ting, hope you had a good trip to genting Highlands. I miss that place. Wonder if you can still feel the clouds in your face. Sigh. I need a vacation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111654806441206090?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111654806441206090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111654806441206090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111654806441206090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111654806441206090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/05/hey-wen-real-quick-i-just-wanted-to.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111629859180067035</id><published>2005-05-16T22:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T22:56:31.806-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If anyone is interested:&lt;br /&gt;Place where I will be giving a speech and taking part in a poster competition. YAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.asae.org/meetings/am2005/index.htm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111629859180067035?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111629859180067035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111629859180067035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111629859180067035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111629859180067035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/05/if-anyone-is-interested-place-where-i.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111604845757752549</id><published>2005-05-14T01:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-14T01:27:37.583-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Got an email from my boss from the transcribing job, asking me pretty much where I am since I promised I'd be there for the summer. i don't really know how to break it to him. I mean, I fuckin hate that job, and the stupid hours I work there. I wish I could just tell him that, collect my paycheck and leave. But sadly, my greed for money prevents me from quiting just yet. Das referred my friend to that job, and the fact that after 120 hours that the other person works, I'll get an additional $50 to my paycheck. I'm sorta waiting for her to finish her 120 hours, get my $50 and get the fuck outa there. MUHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyways, classes are a bitch. Add to that working with Imbecils on a design competition, and added stress of having to present my design to an international audience in a coupla months, I have a full load of crap to do. Oh yea, got picked to represent my school ina  design competition award thing. Apparently only 3 students in US are chosen to give a speech there, and I was picked the "fortunate" one due to our awesome bicycle design. Well, it's nice that I can get my name and an article published in an engineering journal. W00t! More Resume crap to add, to delete the "I know programming,  good with people/computers" crap I add at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently my girlfriend is being stalked and decided to change her phone number. What's sad is that she didnt give it to me, sooooo, since she doesnt ever or rather she hardly turns her lappy on, I figure I'm in for a dark period of not talking to her. Boo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: 1 month till Ting!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111604845757752549?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111604845757752549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111604845757752549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111604845757752549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111604845757752549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/05/got-email-from-my-boss-from.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111568351165282695</id><published>2005-05-09T20:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-09T20:05:11.773-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday Blues</title><content type='html'>Never in my life would I have ever thought ath I'd come home the first day of school, and do 2 hours of work, reviewing and preparing for the next day of classes. And never would I have imagined having an exam 1 week and a day after school starts. But those dreams have become a reality. If you could call it a dream. More like a nightmare. But I feel damn good. I am so ready for whatever this semester can throw at me. I just one of those nifty calender things without pictures of sexy girls on them. And with spaces for me to write so that I can see what's going on the next few days. So, that's next on my agenda. I also managed to get 2 of the 3 books I need for my classes. Once again a first. I usually go through a semester without need for the book. But anyways, hope everyone's doing ok. Andre seems to be done with exams for a while. So, enjoy bro. Later all. Keep in touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: 5 weeks till Ting!&lt;br /&gt;WOOHOOOOO&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111568351165282695?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111568351165282695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111568351165282695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111568351165282695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111568351165282695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/05/monday-blues.html' title='Monday Blues'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111514917926119376</id><published>2005-05-03T15:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-03T15:40:22.190-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pics from Universal</title><content type='html'>Pics from Universal are up.&lt;br /&gt;Link: http://uk.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/darshanlives/album?.dir&lt;br /&gt;=/c5ca&amp;.src=ph&amp;amp;.tok=phzdn7CBs3W_t2El&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Might have to copy and paste the link.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111514917926119376?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111514917926119376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111514917926119376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111514917926119376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111514917926119376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/05/pics-from-universal.html' title='Pics from Universal'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111437219663646562</id><published>2005-04-24T15:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-24T15:49:56.636-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just got an instant message froma  buddy. On Friday, he and another one of my friends celebrated both their 22nd birthday adn graduation. A big party was thrown for that, and though I RSVP-ed their invite, I couldnt make it out. Somehow looking at all those pictures from the party sort of knocked me out of my shell, that I've been in the past few months. I just realised that I have only got 6 months or so of being a stupid college kid, getting into trouble, and actually have some sort of justification for it. I don't know when else in my life, I'd be able to go out 4 days a week. But anyways, sleep deprivation of the small kind has taken a toll on me, along with saturday exams, and I am throughly exhausted. Oh how I will it were Tuesday night already.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111437219663646562?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111437219663646562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111437219663646562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111437219663646562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111437219663646562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/04/i-just-got-instant-message-froma-buddy.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111379055574798341</id><published>2005-04-17T22:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-17T22:15:55.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The last one</title><content type='html'>This is the last week of my last SPring semester in undergraduate school. I've been in class for 13-14 weeks this sesmeter, and yet, I feel like I have learnt nothing. Almost nothing. I did sorta learn how to make beer for one of my labs, and I have become better with Microsoft Excel. I dont know why, but I feel I didnt really achieve anything this semester, well except for working quite a bit. The money situation was definately good this semester, and it feels good to be somewhat financially secure. Just ordered my Motorola V3 Razr that I've been eyeing for almost 6 months a few days ago. That sorta made my week as well. I remember when my dad and I were at the Singnet place trying to upgrade our internet, and I pointed at a glass closed display of the V3 and said to him, that if I ever got a cellphone, it would be that. And when I told him this weekend, that I actually ended up getting the phone, I dont think I heard anything from my dad's voice before that showed any more pride in his son and somehow that made me really happy. So, I've learnt something important again this semester. Other than just things one learns in school, I think its the things taht you learn outside of school that determine your character. This semster, mostly because of Ting, I've been pretty honest in my classes. I had plenty of oppurtunities to get the test before the exam date, or many other things, but I refused to do that. I know I believe that every oppurtunity, must be taken, and its better to have the upper hand than be stuck with not having one, but I guess, if it means that its not ethically or morally right, then its probably not the best solution. It's nice that I can look back in my semester, and be happy with the decisions that I made. But anyways, Andre and Wen, if your exams/finals/anything important is coming around the corner, I wish you the best of luck. Take care ya'all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111379055574798341?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111379055574798341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111379055574798341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111379055574798341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111379055574798341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/04/last-one.html' title='The last one'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111255683820849094</id><published>2005-04-03T15:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T15:35:29.686-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Uno Momento</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v324/darsvader/penguin.gif" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha is this the funniest thing or what. Anyways, This weekend went by too fast for me. I want it back, I tell ya. I want it all back. Went to see Sin City. If you guys like lotsa violence, interesting, and captivating screenplay, and quentin's other movies, this is a must see&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111255683820849094?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111255683820849094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111255683820849094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111255683820849094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111255683820849094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/04/uno-momento.html' title='Uno Momento'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111255673234577015</id><published>2005-04-03T15:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T15:32:12.346-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v324/darsvader/penguin.gif" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha is this the funniest thing or what. Anyways, This weekend went by too fast for me. I want it back, I tell ya. I want it all back. Went to see Sin City. If you guys like lotsa violence, interesting, and captivating screenplay, and quentin's other movies, this is a must see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111255673234577015?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111255673234577015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111255673234577015' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111255673234577015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111255673234577015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/04/haha-is-this-funniest-thing-or-what.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111222841018294869</id><published>2005-03-30T19:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-30T19:20:10.183-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So today, I decided to release all the pent up frustration, anger, dissapointment, stress, fever and all of that by playing a baseball game along with Doug. Except Doug doesnt have anything pent up. Oh wait, he's getting married. Ok he does have some pent up... stuff. Anyways, First baseball game in my life. Never picked up a bat before, except at the store to pretend that I'm going to hit whoever I'm with.  I have to say,  I don't think I've batted better in cricket. Everyone was so amazed at my batting, that they asked me, how long I've been playing. I was like yea probably 45 mins or so. Shocked, and unable to fathom the fact that a non-American can play this american pasttime better than them, they started to further enquire, how I would have earned such batting talent. Though I dont see what fuckin talent there is in swinging the ball as hard as your body can possibly muster. But anywyas, I told them, I played cricket... International level. See the sad thing is, I wasn't really known as a batsman in cricket. I was more of an exuberant fielder. But my dad did tell me that when I played a coupla matches when I was home, my batting had improved a lot. He deduced it was because, maybe as I got older, I got less impatient, and waited for the right balls to blast out of the park, and not just at every one. In a way, he is right. I have grown much more patient, and just a little bit more calm in unnerving situations. Maybe it's the experiences, maybe its the whole getting a girlfriend and being more responsible crap. Maybe it's cos I'm 21. Maybe it's cos I'm just good. I'll pass for the last choice. Its the easiest to accept :-p.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the well wishes Wen. I hope your boy comes to his senses. I'm a little surprised that he didnt pick up on the fact that you arent too terribly excited about him talking about prom girl all the time. I guess, he's a guy just like me. Although, sometimes I pick up when your upset, right Ting? huh? right? come on, sometimes, like once in a while? blue moon perhaps? But anyways, good luck with that. Beat some sense into him. Sometimes that works on me. Ting's got methods I tell ya. :-p Later all. have a fab week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111222841018294869?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111222841018294869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111222841018294869' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111222841018294869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111222841018294869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/03/so-today-i-decided-to-release-all-pent.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111196856425742808</id><published>2005-03-27T18:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-27T19:09:24.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>been sick for a coupla days. I'm sorta getting over it, and I'm sorta glad taht I am. Was worried it might be something more than a flu. But today  Desperate Housewives is on again for season 2. Hooorah!&lt;br /&gt;To all those celebrating Easter, Happy Easter. I know I forgot to tell you this morning Ting. Accept my apologies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what pissed me off today? Amanda(Doug's gf Amanda) got me this chocolate cake with marshmellows and raisins and nuts for Easter. I guess as a sign of good will. THis fucker Noam tells me he wants half to take to his gf Amanda, and I'm like sure whatever, I dont think I could eat all of it anyway. So just now I walk to the kitchen to see eat a little bit more, and I realised that he left me a piece maybe 5 cm by 1 cm in size. What the Fuck. I swear, the "cake" was like 40 cm in diameter. If I did some sorta math, I would know thathalf of that isnt a fucking piece that I could 4 of in my mouth. I realised over the past few days that Noam, even though I've known him for 4 years, he never fails to let me down in his selfishness. First there was the whole cheating on my ex, and then there was the whole apologising to me, and doing it again. And several other instances along the way. I mean, he's been really good to me, overall, driving me places when I needed to go and all that. I'm indebted to him in that way, but seriously it's these small things that piss me off. The cake wasnt even for him. Doug's Amanda hates him. And always those quirky sarcastic remarks he always makes about me, has me wondering whether there is some truth behind it. Sometimes, I feel and he has confessed to me that he feels insecure around me. I dont friggin understand what the heck that is about. It's like I cant even talk to the girls taht he's dating because he's scared that they'll dump him or something. He gets so insecure when I even say hi to his Amanda.  I don't even know what to say. This blog was going to be a positive one, until Noam totally pissed me off, by being a selfish asshole. But anyways, I hope everyone's had a great weekend.&lt;br /&gt;And Ting, I promise your present will be mailed out in 1-2 days. So it's 1 1/2 months late eh. Sorry babe :-p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111196856425742808?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111196856425742808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111196856425742808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111196856425742808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111196856425742808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/03/been-sick-for-coupla-days.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111118772081916732</id><published>2005-03-18T18:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-18T18:15:20.820-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big bang?</title><content type='html'>I was working at the Library, and I happened to come across this book called "&lt;b class="sans"&gt;Big Bang: The Origin Of The Universe" By Simon Singh&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;I have to say that was probably the most captivating scientific book I have ever read. But when I thought about this a little bit more, I realised I've never really been interested in astronomy or cosmology. But my dad, always had such a big passion for it. I find it wierd that I find myself doing research on cosmology, cos my interest in that subject has grown considerably. Dad would be proud :-D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went out after a 2 month break last night.  I definately had one of the best times, because Doug also decided to go out, since like never. I've never been out with Doug, because of the tight leash that Amanda runs him with. But it was definately a blast. This morning though, wasnt too fun, with the hangover and all. SO once again, I swear off drinking till tomorrow night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, take luck till then ya'all. &lt;b class="sans"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111118772081916732?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111118772081916732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111118772081916732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111118772081916732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111118772081916732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/03/big-bang.html' title='The Big bang?'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111074781468740569</id><published>2005-03-13T16:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-13T16:03:34.690-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bruce Lee once told me when i was tutoring him on the art of kicking ass that:&lt;br /&gt;"Kicking a man in the head is like punching him in the foot..."&lt;br /&gt; Very valuable advice I might have to add.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also on another note:&lt;br /&gt; For those of you who do not know, a "Fob" is what we brown people call someone who is straight from the Motherland. F.O.B. Stands for Fresh Off the Boat. Here's their new anthem:&lt;br /&gt;I promise you, you guys will not be dissapointed by this. Maybe you will. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://homepage.mac.com/rbaruah/.cv/rbaruah/Movies/Drop%20It%20Like%20a%20FOB.mov-link.mov"&gt;CLICK HERE!!!!!!!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111074781468740569?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111074781468740569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111074781468740569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111074781468740569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111074781468740569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/03/bruce-lee-once-told-me-when-i-was_13.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111074778799845161</id><published>2005-03-13T16:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-13T16:03:08.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bruce Lee once told me when i was tutoring him on the art of kicking ass that:&lt;br /&gt;"Kicking a man in the head is like punching him in the foot..."&lt;br /&gt; Very valuable advice I might have to add.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also on another note:&lt;br /&gt; For those of you who do not know, a "Fob" is what we brown people call someone who is straight from the Motherland. F.O.B. Stands for Fresh Off the Boat. Here's their new anthem:&lt;br /&gt;I promise you, you guys will not be dissapointed by this. Maybe you will. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://homepage.mac.com/rbaruah/.cv/rbaruah/Movies/Drop%20It%20Like%20a%20FOB.mov-link.mov"&gt;CLICK HERE!!!!!!!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111074778799845161?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111074778799845161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111074778799845161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111074778799845161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111074778799845161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/03/bruce-lee-once-told-me-when-i-was.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-111034326755129242</id><published>2005-03-08T23:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-08T23:41:07.553-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today for the first time in my life, I hallucinated. I have never felt like as much of an idiot, or so shocked/worried/wtf-ed out ever in my life. Tell you the truth, it was quite scary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-111034326755129242?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/111034326755129242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=111034326755129242' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111034326755129242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/111034326755129242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/03/today-for-first-time-in-my-life-i.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-110990484963314477</id><published>2005-03-03T21:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-05T11:55:58.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Someone once told me, greatness doesn't come to you,&lt;br /&gt;You have to reach for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just thought I'd share it with the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-110990484963314477?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/110990484963314477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=110990484963314477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110990484963314477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110990484963314477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/03/someone-once-told-me-greatness-doesnt.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-110982372523888588</id><published>2005-03-02T23:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-02T23:22:05.240-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wow, eh laddies, its been a while huh. I've been pretty much slacking off, skipping classes, and now it's spring break. When normal college kids are off having fun, getting drunk every night and finding women to find company for the night, I'm in gainesville, working, trying toc atch up on sleep to no avail. Drinking 2 beers a night, just to say I drank on spring break. Seems February came and went. Perhaps those extra 3 days do make a difference. A new month means rent is due, bills are due, and that's always no good. Anywyas, I hope everyone's doing fine. I'm not lookin forward to clsses next week. Boo. Why Cant I just have 1 month off. Peace out ya'all. Be good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-110982372523888588?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/110982372523888588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=110982372523888588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110982372523888588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110982372523888588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/03/wow-eh-laddies-its-been-while-huh.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-110893380865339236</id><published>2005-02-20T16:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-20T16:10:08.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh yea this is me</title><content type='html'>"Here's to you, Mr. 5th year senior, C student. While others strive to do their best in their classes, you calculate EXACTLY what grade you need to maintain your place in mediocrity. Sure, others might get higher GPA's, but no one has participated in more whiskey-fueled mayhem as you have. Some students might try to get A's on their tests, but you sit back and wait for that 5 point grade curve to graduate.&lt;br /&gt;So crack open an ice cold bud light after you Christmas tree-ed that last exam, because C's get degrees, and your diploma looks just as good as that jackass' that studied....."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-110893380865339236?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/110893380865339236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=110893380865339236' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110893380865339236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110893380865339236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/02/oh-yea-this-is-me.html' title='Oh yea this is me'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-110841705919605575</id><published>2005-02-14T16:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-14T16:37:39.200-05:00</updated><title type='text'>thanks for Valentines</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;THANK &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;YOU &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;G &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;FOR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt; BEING &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;THE &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;BEST &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;GIRLFRIEND. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;I LOVE YOU SOO MUCH BABY!!! MUUUUUUUUAH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-110841705919605575?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/110841705919605575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=110841705919605575' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110841705919605575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110841705919605575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/02/thanks-for-valentines.html' title='thanks for Valentines'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-110816437129013684</id><published>2005-02-11T18:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-11T18:26:11.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hovie!</title><content type='html'>Man oh man, was this a good day. WE finally got the Hovercraft to life off the ground. It is indeed a big step for us all. So cheers all around. WE're that much closer to getting it to run the way we want it to. Pics and movies will be up soon. Peace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-110816437129013684?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/110816437129013684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=110816437129013684' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110816437129013684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110816437129013684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/02/hovie.html' title='Hovie!'/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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-7195109.post-110740223375628138</id><published>2005-02-02T22:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-02T22:43:53.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wow, its been a while eh. Been so damn busy these days, the days are flying by. I'm down with some flu or something right now, and I was gettin better this morning, and I started gettin a little bit worse over the course of the evening. All I wanna do is sleep, but I got some shytt to finish up before that. Career fair is over. Was about as interesting as watching grass grow.  Tim got an interview with Boeing. I believe he memorized a bunch of answers to questions that they would ask, and some how got away with it, cos they asked almost exactly the same questions. Personally I think thats retarded, I'd rather have to think, and come up with an answer than plan for something and have it not work out, or get caught on a word or something. But anyways, I'm exhausted, gonna get back to work and go to bed. Hope everyones doing fine. ANd Happy Chinese New year Wen.(at least this weekend)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7195109-110740223375628138?l=darsvader.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/feeds/110740223375628138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7195109&amp;postID=110740223375628138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110740223375628138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7195109/posts/default/110740223375628138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://darsvader.blogspot.com/2005/02/wow-its-been-while-eh.html' title=''/><author><name>dars</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15569328356396455319</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>
