到了現在我才明白，爲了一個不愛我的人而放棄一個愛我的人是好笨的事。from today onwards i've learnt to let u go. goodbye...
i'm beginning to think that i have sharp ears. xD i heard the song "lucky" by Ashily in the korean version of Boys Over Flowers and i realised that she sounded like the singer of one of the others songs i was looking for from Witch Yoo Hee. so i went to all the trouble...and managed to find the song along with the eng translation of the title. enjoy. =]
Title translation: My love, just come to me
The blue sky is blinding My heart hurts for some reason Dew drops form in eyes without me knowing In my imagination It feels like you’re getting closer to me I’ve been waiting for you, I don’t know since when
I still don’t know love, I don’t know who you are When will love come to me? Waiting for U love Can’t you get a little Close to me My love, Babe my sweet heart
All those other people How can they think of love? Am I the only one who doesn’t know how? Very warm and comfortable And sometimes sweet With such love you were always with me
I still don’t know love, I don’t know who you are When will love come to me? Waiting for U love Can’t you get a little Close to meMy love, Babe my sweet heart
Any way that I think about it When I see you being so happy And say I love you a thousand times a day I wondered when and how Love would come to me It was already here, Ever since I knew you There was a place for you In my heart
I was born to be with you If you come to me, our time together From this point on Will be a dream. My loveOh, my love, come to me
*YAY finally got the mixpod thing to work. x.x i'm sure alot of ppl will like the song de loh xD was thinking of changing the blogskin also but i still think my current one is the best liao! :x
*thisismymagicaltale*
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
i know i've posted this before already, but just felt like posting it again (since it's very true and it was 8months ago loh!) i seriously think alot of girls should read this!
*found this in PPF. personally found it quite true and touching so...here u go. =] warning:long post ahead.
To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong.
This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times.
This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe this time he'll have understood.
This is homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention.
This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and f*** up the guys in their lives without saying a word.
This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds."
This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.
This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced.
This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed.
This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt.
This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.
This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a bitch than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with.
This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone.
This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup.
This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you.
I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had.
This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.
This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep.
This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear.
This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted.
This is for the girls who have been satisfied with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.
This is what I don't understand.
Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for *** and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made.
Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mind games that girls love to keep them hanging.
Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth?
And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find?
Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere.
But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.
So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in *****'s clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me."
You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express.
Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the bitches and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.
So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what's a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)
By Jessica Leigh Griffith Copyright 2004-2005 by Jessica Leigh Griffith
*thisismymagicaltale*
Friday, June 19, 2009
dun know why everyone keeps pestering me to update blog while rotting in office. precisely cos all i've been doing is rotting that's why cant update mah...-.- but today i've discovered that listening to the radio in the office is 1. a good way to do something else other than rot 2. since i'm the only one in the office the whole day it stops me from becoming totally zibi (hi celine i'm here to steal ur rice bowl! =D). oh yeah speaking of zibi where's my shuj keychain that xin dar gave/planned to give me huh!! D:
so many nice movies coming out in the months of june and july...transformers: revenge of the fallen (priority!), harry potter and the half-blood prince (is it me or is harry's face getting more square?)...cant remember the rest liao. ><>
