<?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-27367171</id><updated>2012-02-16T00:23:32.838-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Schizotypal P.D.</title><subtitle type='html'>My mind and my thoughts are as profane as those of schizophrenics and the only difference is that I am considered sane. But my fact still remains, "There is no cure for Life".</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>38</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-5471216542141050740</id><published>2006-11-17T08:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-17T08:20:04.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #38: Confusion</title><content type='html'>It was a tough week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought it was just a basic English class but, Crap!, it wasn't JUST an english class. It was WAY more than that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really didn't expect that Miss Ria would check each and every word in that verbatim speech and recognizing and correcting all your errors is a real pain in the behind. It was like hell when we need to correct every "the", "this" and "that" in the file with the correct /th/ sound when we filipinos are used to using the /d/ sound. Then "accuracy" (a-kyu-ra-si) should be pronounced as (a-kyu-ra-si). Another is that "during'' (du-ring) should not be (ju-ring) and its very hard to change all that in the span of just 5 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then theres this "ano'' thing I have when I always keep saying "ano" when Im talking...well reporting, that is. The thing is, when I am outside the class I don't say that damn tagalog word anymore (or maybe I just don't hear me say it). I really need a coach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, though I had frequent headaches and occasional migrains, it was a fun week. For one thing I have met many new people, many of which are much much older than me with their own families, and some in my generation (well, that wont make the others that old, you know). A wide variety of people, most with a sense of humor and some being the ones being humored (Kuya Pepe Smith...I can't say nothing more...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People worth mentioning are Rani - the wave's clown...together with the bunch at the back part of the room, specially Ian and Chris and Michael (Kuya Pepe), they made the whole class laugh more than once...well, everyday may be the right word. My seatmates Joseph, who also play RF, his friend Bryant, the rich kid, Vance and Roni make up the all-boy group (with the exception of the last) and they are the people I jive with...maybe because of my age gap with Rani and Ian and Malurd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shuck! It was already a week and I still want to spend time with that class and Ma'm Ria. Hope everything goes fine with our product trainer and I hope that our trainer is like Ria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, now I've got to adjust once again to my ever changing world. A new chapter has opened and needs a new start. Im still confused to what I will show these guys. Maybe they need to know me. Maybe, for once, I'll make myself clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But maybe now's not the time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I still got this problem about my NBI clearance and I need to know how to solve that before anything else. That would take my mind of matters I always fail in. Again, yet again, she is too close yet I am too far. Hahahaha...never mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; *****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit! for Gods sake I JUST GOT PISSED OFF!!! I hate it when one good day comes to a bad ending. yeah...we won but hell I had everything out of my hand...even myself and for that i give myself a pat in the back. Just shut up and do anything you could do to sustain yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, its hard to do that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-5471216542141050740?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/5471216542141050740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=5471216542141050740' title='47 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/5471216542141050740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/5471216542141050740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/11/analytic-symptom-38-confusion.html' title='Analytic Symptom #38: Confusion'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>47</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-116195439012419507</id><published>2006-10-27T06:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-10T03:33:21.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #37: Deafness</title><content type='html'>Listen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just listen for a while...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't need to digest every little detail...please...just listen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot think of another way out. Its just this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take me as the person talking. I want you to not forget. I need you to hold on to everything I thought I could handle but was not able to. I want you to finish what you started that I was not able to. I need to move on...but I can't. I cannot see you anymore but I still know your face, and I can't forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it really you? Don't leave me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...coz I will be the one to leave. Goodbyes are better when the one leaving is the one left alone. That way, no one will get hurt...he will not be missed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always thought I wanted to be missed but when this came, I really don't have the courage to accept the simple truth. The simple truth that even though I want to see your face, I will always be a few lightyears away. A mere glimpse is impossible...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...specially without your permission.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you never listen...Your senses are always closed...you will never notice....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music credits: Empty Tears, Empty Heart by Hale (Download nyu n lng to at pakingan...still can't figure the sound url thing...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-116195439012419507?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/116195439012419507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=116195439012419507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/116195439012419507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/116195439012419507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/10/analytic-symptom-37-deafness.html' title='Analytic Symptom #37: Deafness'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-116159682224458266</id><published>2006-10-23T00:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T02:15:23.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #36: Split Personality</title><content type='html'>Mundane as it might sound, I am only of the many structures of me. I really can't keep track of the personalities I have but at least, there's only one self at a time. Only one is visible and the others kept well hidden in the unseen corners of my head, showing only after a certain 'trigger'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are you thinking? Okay...Okay I'm may be crazy but I'm still as sane as you are! And no one cares about the randomness of your actions, considering that you are as random as the particles in chaos theory. Crap. Are you still dwelling on that good for nothing event that made your lufe miserable for almost 20 years now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You mean birth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, For god's sake. Think! You are the only one accepting the fact that THAT happened to you and you cannot blame anyone for it. Explains all the hiding you've been doing for the past years that brought me to the picture. Can't you see? You are not alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah...with you I'm not, I can't be more sarcastic about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; And you've got to bring out the truth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah...and risk being alone again?! I don't even know if someone would listen and even if they do, i'm still not sure if they...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lost for words?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...can stop me. If they can, then theres no way I could go ahead with my plans and all this crap. Schitnitz don't force me into anything just yet. I can't...just can't...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But why the hell are you waiting for this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another dimwit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shut the fuck up. Though you're so tough doesn't mean we all are. I can't help but agree with this sissy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought you're on my side?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am but crap, its the truth right? Anyway,  we all are confused and just starting this conversation makes me crazy, the hell with ending it. The problem is this and we can never do anything about it. Just accept the fact that we are different and we are the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We already have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all we need is the right time to flush everything out the toilet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when is that? When can we realize that we must do it now? When do we know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wait. Someone would listen. Someone would read. Someone would realize. Someone would, perhaps, care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is a few months ahead. We can wait for that and see what happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And blow the big fiasco unto half of the population you care about and expect them to understand?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They will...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can only hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-116159682224458266?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/116159682224458266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=116159682224458266' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/116159682224458266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/116159682224458266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/10/analytic-symptom-36-split-personality.html' title='Analytic Symptom #36: Split Personality'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-116123872228764128</id><published>2006-10-18T22:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T23:18:42.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #35: Attachment Syndrome</title><content type='html'>Im itching all over. I hate it when I go to the salon (well, parlor's too...errr....you know) and have my hair cut. After all those times that you admired yourself because you have grown your hair to that length (and volume...too much volume, that is. A reason why I needed a cut). I was stuck with the impression that I could manage with what I have but I got to the point that I cannot. I can't think of another way out, coz I have tried everything,  hairband, clips, two combs at a time, rubber bands, shaving cream XD, Sun-silk silky soft shampoo and stuff...well, you get my point. Now, I have to go back to the start like in a snakes and ladder's game when you step into the mouth that big green snake in the middle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And another thing, those stylist are good. Yet they are a bit scary at times. When I was having my hair cut, a big fat ugly man was putting blush-on on his already very pink face...Ohhh, the terror it brings. Haha...no way in hell Im gonna do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I wish everything was just like cutting your hair. Asking another skilled person to cut it for you and...WhaLahh...you're problem is solved...well, for a price ofcourse. I hope someone could do the very same thing to my whole life. Just cut everything down and start over again. Well, I only know one person who can do that and there's no way he's gonna come down here just to make me feel good, I'm really not that important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe I can do that myself. It maybe messy and all but I can do and rearrange everything I have and do some prioritizing, deleting and re-editing of my life, in general. But I can't seem to let go of my routine. I can't accept the fact that I need to move on, even if it means that you will lose attachment to the very ones you keep track of. And there are many things I've been keeping that I may lose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe I lost them already...I've lost them a long time ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, if that's the case, I can really move on and 'get over with my life' (take note: not 'get my life over with'). Just forget I even had the chance to stay. Forget everything. Forget....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forget what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hair's about to grow again in a month's time. Maybe by then I have more friends to reckon with than the last time I did even considered having them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was too attached that Iam now afraid to be THAT attached again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-116123872228764128?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/116123872228764128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=116123872228764128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/116123872228764128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/116123872228764128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/10/analytic-symptom-35-attachment.html' title='Analytic Symptom #35: Attachment Syndrome'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115995300801637224</id><published>2006-10-04T02:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T18:06:36.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #34: Denial</title><content type='html'>/*This post has been delayed for some reason...so ill have to include more events...er....*/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am quite abnormal today...as if I can become normal for a day or two. Anyway, For some reason, I decided to go home from the shop at 3:00 in the afternoon, which, by the way, was a first in this shop's lifetime. I have gone through whatever they call it (hell and back...sounds familiar) but crap this is just...uhmm...crappy. I have told myself never to tell myself to do these things but still I end up feeling what I keep myself from feeling. Ouch..it has been only a sem since I forgot it ever existed and now I have it again...damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And worse, its going away again leaving me like what it has done on me before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least now, no one knows...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I kept quiet in everything I have done, seen and felt coz I know how it hurts to let the person know when there are facts that say 'this is not right'. I don't know why I didn't want to be there when that time comes, maybe its the 'saying goodbye' thing. I left the shop before I do something drastic and sarcastic. Maybe its just that I used to my routine - its hard to divert from that routine - and everything would be different now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its better for me to be told goodbye than to say goodbye so...I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hell...Im taking too long to do all these sentimental stuff coz of word limitation, well, you'd never understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found that thing again even if Im not looking for it anymore. Okay, the ones in my mind are just to keep myself sane. Im still denying the fact that im really abnormal and I cant be sure what others will think of me when they know who I really am. I have given hints and, I should say, they are true! I mixed them up with lies so no one would really be sure. Maybe that's why I dont know how to express myself to people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets go back to reality. School's being cruel to me but IM NOT DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT!!! and worse THIS HAPPENED BEFORE!!! Shit...I know where this is going. But theres still hope...but its fading ridiculously. Hussle, Vic, hussle. keep up with the work...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hate irony. I thought I could have time to do the important things this week but it just turned out to be the worst week this month. I have exams in 4 out of 5 days and a report and a paper due and a project that I have not finished yet. Now Ive got to cram more and more into my busy schedule. Luckily I had time to post and have some fun for an hour or 2. Well, If I get pass this, Ill be okay. I hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note:&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to watch "Tru Calling" yesterday and had to stay up just to know what happened next. I watched Star Wars on 7 and It so happened that I changed channel to 41 (MTV), and saw "Hale" on MTV sessions. I got to listen to 5 song and they're all...uhmm...great. At least, they somehow diverted from the melodramatic side but champs voice still gives that chilly aura to them. I want to hear "Hide and seek", "Eyes Wide Shut" and "Last Song" again just to know the lyrics. Or maybe Ill buy the album this week. I just need to be on track. Well, at least I can have music to turn to when all else fails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything's gonna be fine. I just need to accept that I am unique and not deny that I can always be me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope denial escapes me soon. I hope...again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115995300801637224?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115995300801637224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115995300801637224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115995300801637224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115995300801637224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/10/analytic-symptom-34-denial.html' title='Analytic Symptom #34: Denial'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115962641062596719</id><published>2006-09-30T07:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T22:47:57.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #33: Machiavellianism</title><content type='html'>I cannot sleep. After another week of my delinquency - well, not really since most of it happened by natural causes - I still cannot take my priorities to mind. I have spent every night of the week browsing a psychology dictionary word per word...well not really...mainly the ones that strike a certain aura...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 3 night in a row of constant reading of psychology dicts, I have came upon a word - Machiavellianism (wow, I didn't realize I was in letter M already). The definition struck me so much that I now think Im a High Mach...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really wont define the word here. It would so much of a giveaway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to be sure, I think I'll take that MACH-IV exam sometime soon...the problem is where to get it. O well, Ill make myself sit for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have a bigger problem to face...ouch...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could use this so called 'disease' to my advantage for the next few days. I wish...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115962641062596719?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115962641062596719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115962641062596719' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115962641062596719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115962641062596719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/09/analytic-symptom-33-machiavellianism.html' title='Analytic Symptom #33: Machiavellianism'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115910087886795032</id><published>2006-09-24T05:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-24T19:04:51.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #32: Masochism</title><content type='html'>*****NOTE: Please...COMPLETE DISCLOSURE REQUIRED (okay...pretend you didn't read this post)******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wearing my mask of different faces, I thought I had everything under control. I was laughing with my friends, playing games of war of two sides and we ridicule the ones that die in the hands of the opponent - like "die, &lt;insert&gt; die" - and laugh at our sadistic ways...well, technically, its just a game. Nothing personal. Good thing one of my friends won some money so I got to play with them. Well, its just that Im not financially capable right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a saturday evening. I always stay in the shop this late on saturdays. Its just that I have no problems here and I have people to talk to. Maybe its just me, but I hate the silence I always hear back there and the feeling that someone is looking at your back at all times, looking for mistakes they could blame on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have learned to take every blame taken at me - martyr I may be - like a sponge soaked in a pail of water. To anyone that seem to know me, I am a good shock absorber, an anger management object and someone to pull in case you fall. I will not get angry. At least, I can make someone feel better. No one, except me, has seen me really angry...and I have no plans of showing that side of me to anyone coz if that happens...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, I have become numb of the pitfalls of life, even though those pitfalls are not mine. I have become so immune to flames and blames...explains my debate-hungry nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But tonight was different. My father would be home and He is only home on weekdays. I have stayed late again tonight, knowing they'll be waiting for me. I have a thick, hard skin. I got home at almost 11 and expected to be rained with sermon again, punching and attacking myself on the way back. But something happened...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, nothing for that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one did what I expected. Not even a word. I was relieved, and sat down in the kitchen to start a pseudo-work. I cannot stay there without anything to do, I really don't know why. Then I found this letter in front of the sala and found it was adressed to me, but already opened. I read it and it was from UP. I became blank for the next few minutes trying to digest what I was reading. There was only 3 short paragraphs but it took me 30mins to take it all. My deadline has elapsed and, considering our status right now, I think last year has begun to fall on me again. I never learn. Then I looked at my mother's eyes, but she looked back as if nothing happened. I got the message and took the letter, stored it in my bag. I went to bed shortly afterward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to church the next day only to find myself in tears again in front of a lot of people. Well, i cannot hide this for long. I've got to let this out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/*from evanescence's "Call me when you're sober"*/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Don't cry to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;If you loved me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;You would be here with me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;You want me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Come&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;find me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Make up your mind&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I knew myself all this time. But there's always that side of you you could never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe I just left my mask back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one could have possibly known that I had problems until they read this post. I have my mask again and I will not take it off anytime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must do something right away. I have many options and Ive got to try each and everyone of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But why is it that whatever I do, I always end up hurting myself. Maybe, Im just a psychotic masochist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please keep me from myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;You only want it coz its over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Its over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;...Ive made up your mind&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/27367171-115910087886795032?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115910087886795032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115910087886795032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115910087886795032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115910087886795032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/09/analytic-symptom-32-masochism.html' title='Analytic Symptom #32: Masochism'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115841223913731179</id><published>2006-09-16T06:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-16T06:11:52.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #31: A.D.H.D.</title><content type='html'>I may be just lonely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But nothing more's needed to be stated. Nothing is keeping me to live for tomorrow. Well, no one for that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115841223913731179?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115841223913731179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115841223913731179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115841223913731179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115841223913731179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/09/analytic-symptom-31-adhd.html' title='Analytic Symptom #31: A.D.H.D.'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115781385256612293</id><published>2006-09-09T07:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-09T07:57:32.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #30: Withdrawal Syndrome</title><content type='html'>It seems that everything is crashing down on me like the sky's made of glass. Every tiny bit of things get into me...get into my world...literally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im beginning to get tired of everything. I want to find more to whats available but there are no spikes in my cardiograph, just a straight line acting as a means to see if im still alive. Morphologically speaking, Im not. This monotone has eaten half of me and the other half's lurking somewhere in the middle of confusion and uncertainty. At the start, I was always looking forward to a weekend or two but now, Im not even looking forward to tomorrow. Hey all of this is true. I am saying to myself sometimes, "good Life Vic". Hahaha...maybe its the fact that I have accepted my own death three years ago and am now not afraid if ever it comes. I just like to do something...er....heroic just to bring color to me. I dont even know if anybody would remember me a year after that fateful event, if ever it comes. As one of my friends said to me, &lt;em&gt;You're just a blip in the radar. Once a radio arm passes you, you become visible for a second then vanishes again. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True. I never wanted to be above the action. I prefer my Anonimity rather than being a famous freagin brat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shitness, my heads puffing out.&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;hahaha...start acting out fool. start taking every bit of info your mind lets you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You want me to take more info than Im already shaking into my uberly crowded mind? For gods sake, Im reading a pshychology dictionary every other night just to make me sleep, I start from 12 until I hget tired around 2. In fact, Im in letter D now. Well, thats how I knew the meaning of "coprophillia" and now is grossed at the thought of people doing the damned thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Not That psycho head. Take you life seriously, dammit. For one, DONT BE DELINQUENT!!! Hell, If Im right, you've taken 5 out of 6 free cuts before the midterms even begin. And you need someone to help you. God, I dont know how you do it, but living a day with only yourself, walking from UP to katipunan everyday (and I mean everyday) and doing things only god knows what is just suicide.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, thats better isnt it? No one knows...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dammit. stop all of this. I cant keep up with all your crap. Your full of contradictions you know. You want this but cant do that. Build something and crush it all down again. Pathetic...just pathetic.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I know Im pathetic, and so are you. So are all of us. Imagine one of your cousins having a go at you just because you had a DotA game of 2 on 1. Imagine someone shouting all his curses once the net shuts down. Imagine a person fhaving a bad trip just because he did not have the kill ar because he lost. Imagine someone say to you to get a damn life. Imagine someone asking people on how to get somewhere and obliges them to answer and condemns you once you dont, while he can have the answer with just one click. Imagine a person being numb enough to not know that he not doing right. Pathetic and Absurd. Yes I am guilty of all charges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't play RF right now. No load, if you know what I mean. Im just wasting my time and money on useless internet time, scouring sites I cant have answers on. Playing games that is just a waste of time (but still fun...). Im withdrawin' from all this. I cant just stop and take the poison my minds been feeding me. Will anybody just let me stop?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may have those sudden bulges of pain, searing tension and unpredictable stress when Im facing away from my daily/weekly routine. But there no other way out, is there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cries are unheard. Maybe I have to start ranting again tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115781385256612293?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115781385256612293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115781385256612293' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115781385256612293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115781385256612293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/09/analytic-symptom-30-withdrawal.html' title='Analytic Symptom #30: Withdrawal Syndrome'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115650972374992547</id><published>2006-08-25T05:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T05:42:04.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #29: Phobia</title><content type='html'>Schitnophronotiniaric Tiranity!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever that means...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its just that Im being scared of a couple of things right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting with the obvious, my crappy skills in computing is taking its toll on me...YET AGAIN!!! Ive got to extend every ounce of effort I have just to have a chance on passing this subject. I may be taking things too seriously, others take this subject for more than 4 times, but still, My time, effort and money's being wasted and I am responsible for all this! Then theres these two MP's due next month...yes next month and Im problematic about them given I can only program for hours at a time coz I dont have my own PC and the PC here wont allow me to download a C++ and the PCs here dont have CD-players. A big problem...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing, Im being too attached to people again. I certainly like the feeling of being important but this is ridiculous...for me. Im getting hints from someone about... err... how important I am (well, putting it in a really, really safe context) but I cannot respond just yet. I just had this...err yet again... "stupor" feeling less than a sem ago and I cannot take that very same risk again. But I dont want that person to feel that Im too numb (in layman's term: Manhid) that I keep avoiding the instance. Its just that maybe Im just &lt;em&gt;-nag fi-feeling-&lt;/em&gt; and get the note far from where it should really land. Crap...I just hate...uhmm...nevermind! (NOTE: no person involved)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then theres this big amount of clash between people of my group and well, having read many psychiatry books, someone is feeling out and someone is not knowing that fact. I dont want anyone to break from us and it will be like )(*$_@# if that happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I maybe just too paranoid to think these things but I just want everything to be Ideal...thats just the way I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hope evrything turns out fine...and If it does not...I must do something about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck~ haiyz~ more work and less play again...Ouch!~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115650972374992547?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115650972374992547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115650972374992547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115650972374992547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115650972374992547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/08/analytic-symptom-29-phobia.html' title='Analytic Symptom #29: Phobia'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115613223660527662</id><published>2006-08-20T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-20T20:50:36.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #28: Schizoid Tendency</title><content type='html'>I came there, nothing to in mind but the night ahead of me. Tomorrow will be a hard day...or so I thought. How will this night end, I thought. I think I will never know. My mind was racing as I heard that voice shouting inside. What the heck is happening to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left people behind just to stay where I belonged. I had no choice but to start all over again. Thats is, if I can. No one that knows me trusts me anymore and the ones ignorant of who I really am are still kept in the dark. I can't afford to lose them. They're all I've got as of the moment. If they gain my thoughts, I will be alone again. I am always that way. Shut-in Faked-out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Life is now revolving around only four places, creating a monotinic tune within each day of my existence. Well, at least I can say I have words to describe how happy I am within my galaxy of four corners. Home, i have everything I need, no money, no food, no nothing...just family. School, I have all I can hope for, promises, dreams and reality. The shop contains all that lifts me up...PCs, friends and people I can talk to, show who I really am and try to see if they could accept me. And finally, my world...a world of no lights but full of color, A world of silence where I voice out everything I want, a world that looks at me as no one but still manages to know me. It is ironic that I prefer my own galaxy rather than the real world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems I'm being too attached to people again. The last two times I became attached to people, I stumbled. Two circle of friends crumbled before my very eyes, one totally destroyed, the other partially parted. They left me wounded but I will move on. I hope that would never happen again. Well, thats up to them anyway...and maybe its all my fault if they decide against me. If, again, all else fails, I need to find another place to stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I concerned about them now? Maybe, just maybe, I want them permanent in my life. They keep me company, listen to my stories and they tell me their everyday lives. Some misunderstanding but they never last for more than an hour, which is the best. Im trying to find if they will stand by me, and I think they will with their lives. Thats more than I wanted to know and more than I wanted from people. I never expected anything from other people but they exceeded my standards, or maybe Im being too ideal again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The daylight is breaking but still I am here sitting in front of the PC typing words that no one sees. Looking at the persons around me sends flashes of hope inside me. Our shouts in the night could send us to the nearest police station but still we continue coz' were happy. Maybe Im just too shut in that I always think that its too dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone opened the glass doors. It was morning already and light was streaming outside. Rain was making everything look solemn. I smiled at the thought that I lasted that dark night just to see the beautiful day ahead of me with the once laughing with me all they way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to rest now. Today will be a short day and the week ahead will be longer than a month's worth of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least, I have another weekend to look forward to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115613223660527662?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115613223660527662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115613223660527662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115613223660527662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115613223660527662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/08/analytic-symptom-28-schizoid-tendency.html' title='Analytic Symptom #28: Schizoid Tendency'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115599905274107883</id><published>2006-08-19T07:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-19T07:50:52.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #27: Cyclothymia</title><content type='html'>I wont say it was one hell of a week this week because every week is like that. But theres something new this week. Aside from the unpredictability of the days, everything seem to go either for the better or for the worse.  Good things and bad things alternate my Life this week...no emotions created (well, really they just cancel each other out)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday:&lt;br /&gt;Rape! a game - well not just a game...a game with money involved - of DotA got to me. We did lose on some bunch of stratified-big-headed-show-off type of addicts (yes, I know Im an addict but hell, I dont make DotA my bread and butter...unlike those guys) and its was all my damn fault. I could have seen that comming but I didnt...and im the one looking for strats for the team (which basically sucked!). ive got to take some time to have a REAL life but where to start? I really don't know. Well, I cant take everything back anyway so, to hell with them. We will have our revenge later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bad thing about sunday is that I should have done a machine exercise in CS 21 which will be a significant part of my grade. Well, I started already but I cannot pass an unfinished ME so i kinda accepted the fact that I will have a low (or zero) grade in that ME. I got the first ME anyway so I thought "Im gonna make up for it in the next ME"...What a day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday:&lt;br /&gt;i woke up fine and everything was like always but i am still contemplating about my missed ME. i cannot do anything now so i just tried to go to school. When I got into class, my professor said that there will be another ME because the take home ME was quite hard. To my luck, I got all four numbers so I had no more homework to do. The rest of the day came as light as I started!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday:&lt;br /&gt;i had a hard time going to school because of problems financially (like someone I know...haha). Good thing I had saved some money fro yesterday so I used that and my mother said that she'll pay me later. From all the commotion, I got late for my first class...which unfortunately is the last class i want to be late in. CS 32 is one of the classes that I personally have a hard time in processing and still I managed to be absent - I did not attend for I am 1hr late. Given that our next exam will be a week from now, that was a blow below the belt. Ouch~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday:&lt;br /&gt;My life is really out of concept. i got to my classes and still managed to go home early. Well, I hate wednesdays for they are the days where I dont have anything to do. and another thing, To all those people who tend to say "owwww....thats easy...how did you manage to get low in that?": Schitnitchz!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then I got all this "Look at you! Couldn't you make yourself healthy...blah blah blah" nag from my mother. i gotta keep my mouth shut sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday:&lt;br /&gt;okay. at least i had something to look forward to today: early class dismissal. Theres this Alternative Classroom learning Experience (ACLE) happening and I dont want to attend so I got home early and managed to make some time for myself which I havent done for a long time now (Im saving for the weekends...^_^). It was nice to be peaceful for once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday:&lt;br /&gt;i Thought all will be better since my morning was good. but then, this pesky jeepney driver took half of my travel time from angono to UP by taking unnecessary turns on uncharted lands rather than taking the same route. All the passengers went berserk when he turned yet again going back to tikling. We all got down from the hell ride and It took me another 30mins to reach UP. Good thing I woke up early coz if I overslept for even 10 mins, I will be late again for 32 and that will be like suicide!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And another thing, another problem came to me when my CS32 prof passed our Machine Problem 1...meaning another problem to do for the next two weeks (three actually but next week will be exam week) Haiyz...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate Cyclothymic days. Please, If your gonna make my week suck, make it suck all week long. i dont like mood shifts lately. But I prefer a week-long peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but next week will not be peaceful at all...Okay Vic start your whatever...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Starting...well that will be after saturday. &gt;.&lt;*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115599905274107883?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115599905274107883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115599905274107883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115599905274107883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115599905274107883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/08/analytic-symptom-27-cyclothymia.html' title='Analytic Symptom #27: Cyclothymia'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115569384975690113</id><published>2006-08-15T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T19:04:09.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #26: Paranoia</title><content type='html'>Okay...next week will be too much for me to take, I think! I kept my subjects to a minimum, but hell, I have exams for I think every other day, and in the worst case, I have two exams in just one friggin day (one exam in 2-4 and another in 4-6...pano pa ako makaka uwi nyan?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crap! my head will crack next week...sched is sooooooooooo *Schitznitchz*! (Ill post it here so that I wont forget dates...I cant (or dont) want to carry organizers anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aug 17(th): ACLE (at least suspended class from 1-4)&lt;br /&gt;Aug 21(m): Math 54 Make-up exam (tae...holiday na may pasok pa ako! 9-12 pa...haiz)&lt;br /&gt;Aug 23(w): Math 54 Midterms (weeeeeeeee.....&gt;.&lt;)&lt;br /&gt;kinabukasan Aug 24 (th): Geog 1 Long Exam (sana itanong mga bagong gamit sa mapa eg. pamunas, pambalot, pambato, pamhampas etc. ^_^)&lt;br /&gt;Aug 26(s): CS 21 2nd Long Exam 4-6(OKay lng sana kaso...) Math 54 3rd LE (...merong 2-4 exam...T_T)&lt;br /&gt;Aug 29(t): CS 32 2nd LE (peste lagi na akong late sa klaseng to at wala na akong natututunan sobra...kailngan ko n ng notes na marami!)&lt;br /&gt;Sept 9: Field trip sana sa taal kaso bk hindi nmn ako makasama (isa n nga lng na maganda sa sched d ka pa makakasama!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I have an overnight on friday sa shop for that RF addict mode. I have something to look forward to before the HELL week (And it IS one hell of a week)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kailangang ipahinga ang utak bago ang paranoing week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I can survive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haiyz...Xyojin Quembo Syente al Nigtus.... &gt;.&lt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115569384975690113?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115569384975690113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115569384975690113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115569384975690113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115569384975690113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/08/analytic-symptom-26-paranoia.html' title='Analytic Symptom #26: Paranoia'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115529856934544016</id><published>2006-08-11T05:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T05:18:53.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #25: Deja Vu</title><content type='html'>Another post once again. I wont say more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a picture of you reminds me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;how our years have gone so lonely &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;why did leave without &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;saying that you love me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;saying i love you again &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;are you listening &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;open your eyes once again &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;look at me crying &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;if only you could hear me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;shout your name &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;if only you could feel my love again &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the stars in the sky will &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;never be the same &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;if only i have wings &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;so i can fly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i wanna be with you for all the time &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;my love for you will never die &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;if only you were here &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.tristancafe.com/music/flash/stars.html"&gt;Stars by Callalily&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115529856934544016?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115529856934544016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115529856934544016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115529856934544016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115529856934544016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/08/analytic-symptom-25-deja-vu.html' title='Analytic Symptom #25: Deja Vu'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115279730650132038</id><published>2006-07-13T05:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T06:28:26.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #24: Insufficiency</title><content type='html'>Now there is this feeling inside me that tells me that I shouldn't have enrolled this sem. Don't get me wrong...I really want to go to school, specially a school as good as UP, but I have been experiencing more problems this sem so far than the last two sems combined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First is the fact that I have company last 'time' (&lt;--well...'year' is more appropriate) I checked. I had this group of people that I can enjoy my school life with, not just a bunch of people you call classmates but doesn't even know your name. They were my blockmates, composed of 23% boys, including me, and 77% girls. And the funny thing is, I was closer to the girls, my decision mainly. I have spent at least everyday with them and they did complete my day... Now, all I can look forward to is the time when I can go home and spend the rest of the day with my remaining barkada back here in Angono.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really miss the times when we review for an exam together, heads on each other's shoulders and taking into account each other's pace, looking into their faces without a tinge of malice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, all I have is their smiles when I see them in full corridors. I can't even grasp the fact that I remain speechless and just say so much as a 'hi' and ignoring the ones I once called friends...well, crap does happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, within the past two weeks, I have been having problems financially. Well, P600 per week is really enough for me. That amount could feed me for the said week and I can even have some for my vices, I can even save from that, as a matter of fact. But somehow, within the past week, I just need to absent from my classes because I just don't have my fare &lt;em&gt;(&lt;/em&gt;kaya minsan nawawalan n rin ako ng ganang mag-aral)&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; Really, stories are often told with awkwardness and hidden agendas. Like the Story in "Scary movie 4"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Guard: Sir, our country is being attacked by aliens.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;President: Wait a minute. I am listening to a story here.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Guard: But, sir, people are dying. You must do something soon.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;President: The People are gonna die regardless. I just need to know what happened to the duck.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Guard: Sir, the Duck will die.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;President: *splurts coffee all over the place* The duck will die???&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't need to continue the story. That was suppose to be a comedy but somehow I became sad. It is ironic how some people care more about their Ducks rather than the people they have sworn to protect and care about. How did this relate to me being broke? Well, my father raise chickens for a living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not give another example.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, at least I have this scholarship grant that I got from capitolyo. I think that would support us for a week or two. I just don't know what will happen after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I really want to be here in the computer shop rather than in my house. Problems seem smaller here. At least I have something worthwhile to do rather than rant that I am hungry. Hahaha... Ironic...Ironic...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I just feel insuffiecient, so worthless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I think you can see why all I can do is stare at you from the far end of the room. I cannot force you into my life. I cannot even support myself, then what can I do for you. I am contented with this silence, but I cannot say I am happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From TANING of IMAGO:&lt;br /&gt;Tama bang aminin na nating may taning ang pag-ibig natin.&lt;br /&gt;Dakila man, walang kasaysayang kakapit sa bulag na pag-ibig.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115279730650132038?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115279730650132038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115279730650132038' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115279730650132038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115279730650132038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/07/analytic-symptom-24-insufficiency.html' title='Analytic Symptom #24: Insufficiency'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115244427671530183</id><published>2006-07-09T03:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-09T04:24:36.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #23: Last Song Syndrome</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;TANING&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;by Imago&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sa'n mapupulot ang pag-asa &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;May katuwiran ba ang sana &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ngiti ko ang iyong galak &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Langit ko ang iyong kandungan &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Permiso sa isang araw na makasama ka&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Abiso ng pusong bulag na humahanga &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tama bang aminin na nating may taning itong pag-ibig natin &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Dakila man, walang kasaysayang kakapit sa bulag na pag-ibig &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sa'n hihingi ng patawad &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Kung walang dalang dahilan &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tangis ko ang 'yong luha &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Nais ko ang iyong kalayaan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;*****&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Last Song Symdrome - commonly happening on people who reviews or, in general, people who extensively use their mind for a long period of time - is the phenomena where the person hears the last song, which he actually heard, again and again inside his mind without his consciousness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115244427671530183?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115244427671530183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115244427671530183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115244427671530183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115244427671530183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/07/analytic-symptom-23-last-song-syndrome.html' title='Analytic Symptom #23: Last Song Syndrome'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115234788737274273</id><published>2006-07-08T01:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-08T01:38:07.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #22: Jealousy</title><content type='html'>Need I say more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I am disgusted towards my own-under rated-undetermined-crazy self!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115234788737274273?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115234788737274273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115234788737274273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115234788737274273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115234788737274273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/07/analytic-symptom-22-jealousy.html' title='Analytic Symptom #22: Jealousy'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115233723590956290</id><published>2006-07-07T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T22:40:35.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #21: Normality</title><content type='html'>Its been a tiring school life so far. Exams coming in a few days and I have not remembered a single about the topics. I need to study. Specially, the exams math!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heck! I may have a rather &lt;cool&gt; unstable PD but my mind could take much more torment than this. But why am I not doing anything to improve my scholastic status? Well, Ive got to find the answer to that and fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know a person who is so addict in math that he makes it his life. even in high school he would write things in the board like (in words...cant find symbols...):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i" raised to "e" times "square root of t squared + integral of..." this and that...blah...blah...blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And worse he can answer them if we ask them the answer! For Crying out Loud, I may be a freak but he just plain ABNORMAL! I don't know how he did it. He even got to UP and skipped two math subjects for freshmen and advanced to higher math. Well I guess yu know his course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In another story, I passed through the tambayan of UP babaylan and saw these two men talking about things I, obviously, did not want to hear. They were manly and all but when they said goodbye to each other, you don't want to see what I did. I may be unstable in their terms but hell, PDA of two men in an open area is just plain ridiculous... (well, I maybe just one plain hypocrite...haha). Good thing the place was inside UP meaning there was freedom of ,practically, anything. And another thing, you cannot possible know whos who in their relationship, if you know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have more stories like these that make people as abnormal as anybody else. Like senseless teens imitating their favorite bands without even knowing that they are putting those same bands in shame of having fans like them AND kids imagining and actually using the drainage system of UP as a  nice and refreshing river to swim in, and worse, naked (note: students are actually passing them as they wade in the grotesque waters near Math Building)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to study math now so that I would be included in the normal people in class...normal meaning - well, I really dont know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If every person in the world has a problem, whether mental, physical, phychological, sociological or scholastical, Then who is the basis of being normal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why didn't people realize that before?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115233723590956290?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115233723590956290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115233723590956290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115233723590956290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115233723590956290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/07/analytic-symptom-21-normality.html' title='Analytic Symptom #21: Normality'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115131694248443197</id><published>2006-06-26T03:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T22:42:44.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #20: Schizotypal Personality Disorder</title><content type='html'>You may have seen that I have changed my blog name from delusional to Schizotypal PD, and thats for good reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First is that my blog-title-comment is more appropriate with the new title.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second is that I just found out that I have the disorder. I have not yet confirmed it from a real psychiatrist but as I know, the symptoms are all pointing to who I think I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha....I don't know why I am so happy now that I know that I have a mental problem...maybe Im just crazy. or maybe its because I want to know and accept myself before I can brag it to others. Well, awareness is really the first step to aceptance, ain't it? nothing special... &lt;em&gt;hirap...lalim kasi ng utak ko...d ko maarok...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahahhahaha......this is what I get from reading too much psychiatry books. I get too much info about how my (and other's) mind/s work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Schizotypal Personality Disorder is a mental disorder that is more like schizophrenia (&lt;em&gt;pagkabaliw)&lt;/em&gt;. The person with this PD, whether consciously or unconsciously, experiences paranoia*, schizoid** reaction, cyclothymic*** feelings and have eccentric speech patterns, thoughts and ideas. The only difference is that people Psychotypal PD experience no delusions, hallucinations or the like and they don't show the true form of the actual mental disorientation. They just don't want to follow the real world (&lt;-- my idea ^_^)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Paranoia - uncontrolable envy or suspicion with respect to physical reference.&lt;br /&gt;**Schizoid - A trait on being lonesome. Most of the time, people with schizoid reactions have very few close friends, are always anxious in social gatherings and engage in introverted and shut-in thinking.&lt;br /&gt;***Cyclothymic - unbalanced feelings due to the Bipolar mood disorder, in which case, the patient experiences alternating moods of different degrees. Like In one time your so depressed then a minute later your very happy then you get angry for no reason at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115131694248443197?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115131694248443197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115131694248443197' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115131694248443197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115131694248443197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/06/analytic-symptom-20-schizotypal.html' title='Analytic Symptom #20: Schizotypal Personality Disorder'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115131608685619231</id><published>2006-06-26T02:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T03:01:26.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #19: Psychokinesis</title><content type='html'>Is my mind that powerful today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it just so happened that much of the things that I thought about today happened! maybe its just pure coincidence but hell, everything DID go as I wanted it to be...well...almost...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting with my first class...We have a quiz at 8:30  and I came in katips at 8:31...a very bad omen since there is a travel time from katips to UP that's about 15mins...So ill be late for at least 15 mins, and the quiz will be done by then. "Crap" I thought...thats 20 points deducted if I dont get the test. I hastened to the Engg building as soon as I went down the jeep...then I saw the clock at engg and it said "8 mins before 9". I will not reach our room in time to even take an answer. I thought "&lt;em&gt;Sana ma late si Sir Pio...Sana ma late si Sir Pio".&lt;/em&gt;  To my surprise, our room was not yet open and my classmates are still reviewing outside. Nice...I even got the time to review a bit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got an average of 12/10 points in the quiz...Nice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, after a whole 3 hours (2 and a half actually) of computer knowledge I just wanted to eat lunch and not attend my Geog 1 class. But since I still dont have a classcard in the subject I needed to get in class. I rushed to the fourth floor to our room...10 mins later somebody came and said that maam Cadorna will not be coming. I got Lunch on time...hehehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I wanted to play either RF or DotA after classes. I went to a shop near Up and found that there was a functional (but quite slow) PC with RF on it. I got to play Rf for about 45 mins before my load ran out. I had no choice but to play DotA with AI...then someone asked me to join them so that we will have a 3on3 game. Hahahah...nice timing! I joined but I thought that we would lose since I dont know my teammates and the 3 on the other side knows their teammates. I chose Lina Inverse so that we will have at least one killer/pusher in the team. At first we were harrassed and was being owned by push (Ezalor on my side and Lich on Sandking's side.) but I got the Foirst blood...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what? We owned them! They only got two towers We got all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the match, I wanted to go home but they wanted a rematch. I did not oblige lewaving them in fury of me...heheheh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope tomorrow will be like today. But I will need all the Luck I can get with...uhmm...you know...well...maybe you really don't. hahaha....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how this would fit in but there were two girls and a boy in front of AS shouting "&lt;em&gt;Mabuhay ang mga &lt;/em&gt;Lesbian &lt;em&gt;at Gays" &lt;/em&gt;with a big banner saying "Happy Gay Day". There was a gruop behind them that shouts with them. We just smiled and walked away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psychokinesis is the ability to influence the behavior of matter by mental intention or activity, whether conciously or unconciously&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115131608685619231?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115131608685619231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115131608685619231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115131608685619231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115131608685619231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/06/analytic-symptom-19-psychokinesis.html' title='Analytic Symptom #19: Psychokinesis'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115105445643535250</id><published>2006-06-23T01:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T02:26:21.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #18: Amnesia</title><content type='html'>Nice first two weeks of school. I thought I could not make it to the last day of late registration but, with the help of human angelic enough to help, I made it just in time before the 'AS paying booth' closes. But bad enough, I forgot their names. Well, thanks anyway...whoever you guys are!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay first week, I was on scrambles for subjects and now I ended in subjects I like and in the time I most preferred (Thank God for the fortunate outcome of my SCHOOL life)...&lt;em&gt;kaso 15 units lng kaya hindi p rin ako pwedeng magbagsak &lt;/em&gt;because it says in my contract that I must take and pass at least 15 units...so no dropping, LOA, excessive abscences and delinquency this sem...I hope....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The better thing is that I have the most preferrable teachers I can get. Math 54, Sir Abueg, a very considerate teacher according to rumors. CS 21, Sir Pio &lt;em&gt;na ka org ko kaya I have a better chance of passing &lt;/em&gt;^_^. Sir JP in CS32...well, he's not that considerate but he teaches well and I prefer him rather than Sir Quiwa (&lt;em&gt;na College Deankaya ang taas ng expectations pero mababa ang Grade Ceiling&lt;/em&gt;...if you know what I mean). Then Ma'am Cadorna in geog 1, she is like a new graduate teacher and she interacts with her students and she is the&lt;em&gt; makwento&lt;/em&gt; type...and she is anti-cueshe...heheheh...evil. I think I can do good this sem but I will not take my studies for granted given this circumstances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I look like someone from a prison or something? well, I was detained for a sem or two but I was not in prison for Sir JP to call me '&lt;em&gt;Kakosa'. Mukha daw kasi akong bagong labas sa munti sa pic n binigay ko sa kanya. &lt;/em&gt;well, I can't say he's wrong...hehehe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I guess all these will be forgotten as soon as I take my first exam on any subject. Math 54 1st exam scheduled on July 5 and I must study as early as now. My mind cannot hold that much info...given I have not put anything in it for along time. I just hope I get everything done before I get the chance to forget what I was here for. or if I don't get the chance, i think Ill forget everything about it...which is a bad idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Study hard and Play hard is better so that I won't forget the things I must do. I'll need my rest now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please forget everything you have read and think, as if it never happend and existed. If you don't want my presence, I will be as invisible as I can be. It's just that I'm too insecure to take on life as it is, take on what I think will make me happy, take the risk. I will be contented on seeing your silhouette in front of me with your hair blocking most of your lovely face. I just hope I can approach you as a friend just like the last time. But I cannot make you forget, can I? I hurts me to approach you when you dan't want to talk to me. Or maybe its just me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope I can turn back time....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The music playlist in here plays the most...uhmm...appropriate sounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Tumatakbo' by Mojofly&lt;br /&gt;'Minamahal kita' by Parokya ni Edgar&lt;br /&gt;'Runaway' by Hale&lt;br /&gt;'Here Tonight' by Hale&lt;br /&gt;'Jeepney' by SpongeCola&lt;br /&gt;'Torpe' by Barbie's Cradle&lt;br /&gt;'Beer' by Itchyworms....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate coincidence...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amnesia is the lost of memory due to physical or mental pressure/injury.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115105445643535250?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115105445643535250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115105445643535250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115105445643535250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115105445643535250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/06/analytic-symptom-18-amnesia.html' title='Analytic Symptom #18: Amnesia'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115053333300631237</id><published>2006-06-17T00:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-17T01:35:33.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #17: Pain</title><content type='html'>How am I suppose to start all over again with all this.......*search for words*........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything thats happening to me this past week is kinda old, the ones Im used to, and also a little new, the ones I never have experienced before. And it looks like Im going to make a few adjustments now that this occured...well, I can't say its nothing personal...literally...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, its a little, say, unnerving (&lt;em&gt;tama b to?)&lt;/em&gt; to have classmates thats younger than you in one of your major subjects. Most of my classmates in CS 21 are younger than me. maybe its just me but Im kinda insecure that Im one of the oldest students in the class...&lt;em&gt;Buti n lang nanjan si Jamo...&lt;/em&gt;at least I have a batchmate here and I have good reasons to retake this subject...in fact I had a passing status in this subject last time I took it, but my two MP's vanished like *kapoot* in the computer shop I was programming in in the last minute...The my teacher in CS32 said &lt;em&gt;"mga 3rd year na kau...CS32 pa rin kau..."&lt;/em&gt; that was kinda funny...&lt;em&gt;pero masakit kahit papaano sa &lt;/em&gt;ego!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my CS21 classmates gave me a new nickname...ASH! like the pokemon master in that cartoon series. &lt;em&gt;mas maganda b talaga un english kesa sa tagalog?&lt;/em&gt; I just told them I was born on an ash wednesday and my other nick was Abo and the hell, they started calling me ash. not that I care, but its just that I really did not like pokemon at all. heheheh.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then theres this book that I have not yet returned to the Engg lib that was due Oct 1...LAST YEAR!!! The hell...I cant imagine how much I gotta pay for that over-over-overdue book but at least I saved 2 pesos per day since I have borrowed it...&lt;em&gt;nakaka 500 na ata ako...&lt;/em&gt;Ouch...my pocket will again hurt...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The I have this space in my life that I must fill as soon as possible but cannot have the courage to fill...I need to fill that blank space with color...but can I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Okay, here the real part of all this...remember that last post I had...well that was true and I didn't know what to do the next time I...errrr....see her. I was taking every step carefully and I always look in every person's face so that I would not get noticed by her. I don't know why...I would like her to notice me...but a part of me says not yet...I don't want to keep her waiting but I can't seem to find the courage to talk to her. Then, this has to happen. I was in the verge of seeking for a subject since I need at least one more subject to take to fill my 15 unit load (cintract needs to be fulfilled) and jamo told me that I can take up my CS32 already. The light of hope shone on me and I immediately asked ma'am riza to enlist me in the subject. Yehey, I told myself since I already have 15 units. &lt;em&gt;Tuwang tuwa pa ako nun papasok na ako sa MH233A.&lt;/em&gt; Then, I realized that she was there taking the same subject in the same room as I am. I thought this would not happen because I thought she took that subject last year. Blood filled my head for that whole friggin' hour. I always look at her but I can't afford to catch her eye. I don't know why. All I felt was this awkward feeling that I should but couldn't talk to her. I REALLY WANTED TO BUT I REALLY CAN'T. maybe its the little scardy cat in me thats keeping me there in my seat alone and silent. I just don't want our friendship to end and if that meant that i should keep my distance, then half of me says I should but really I don't want to. i wanted to talk to her after class but when I saw her she was surrounded bu my classmates and that took the remaining courage in me. I just pretended I didn't see her. After that, I wanted to punch myself, bang my head in the wall and hang myself. but all I can do was punch a tree in the UP lagoon...well that hurt but it didn't matter at the time. All I wanted to do was to feel the pain that I could do to myself and to her feelings. I just hate myself for being like this. How come others can do this stuff as quick as the wind while I seem to take the whole course of time? I can't find the answer to my somewaht sewrious problem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spaces can be so disturbing but the hell...pain is just as relieving. Well, maybe you don't get my drift but niether can I. Im just so noob at these things that i cant seem to find the next way out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I get to get the chance soon...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pain is an unpleasant sensation occuring in varying degrees of severity as a consequence of injury, disease or emotional disorder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the color is just out of my eyes these past few weeks. Everything seems to be affected...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115053333300631237?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115053333300631237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115053333300631237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115053333300631237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115053333300631237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/06/analytic-symptom-17-pain.html' title='Analytic Symptom #17: Pain'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-115011852375449299</id><published>2006-06-12T04:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T06:22:07.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #16: Speechlessness</title><content type='html'>My head's been turning round and round within the past few days. All I want is to see her but still a part of me tend turn in any corner available anytime I see her shadow. What the hell happening to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay...I really want to see her face but why...WHY!!!...am I stopping and turning to another route when I get to the point where I have the best chances of meeting her. Something inside me argues "luckily I did not meet her today" and another with "Fuck it all...my day did not complete itself again"....im kinda confused once again with the outcome of my daily life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it just me? I just don't know what the hell am I suppose to say when that time comes. It will be a hell of a nice/awkward sem for me but hell...who cares?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to admit it but crap...im so newbie at this stuff given that I had the feelings of a blunt axe within the past few years of my life. Why had I given the chance to feel...I thought I always wanted to be as far from the world as possible but now it all changed. IT ALL CHANGED!!! i had nothing in mind at the time but now I realize everything...and all came into place...into place that I thought did not exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all this blabbering may have no sense at all but i have no sense anymore anyway...except for her...and thats all  thats keeping me in shape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PLease don't get made if I become speechless when I see youn next tym...Coz it will all be awkward!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for all this. and it is all my fault...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But also thanks for this...uhmm....stuff you gave me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-115011852375449299?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/115011852375449299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=115011852375449299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115011852375449299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/115011852375449299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/06/analytic-symptom-16-speechlessness.html' title='Analytic Symptom #16: Speechlessness'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114967954648279315</id><published>2006-06-07T03:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-07T04:27:51.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #15: Delinquency</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Whoa! My problems are much worse than I thought!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;So, given I am a happy-go-lucky guy that doesn't give a damn about things. I thought I can do things even if I don't know the REAL facts about what are REALLY happening. The thing is, I THOUGHT WRONG!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I rode a jeepney today that had the sign "BIG R" and didn't care where it would take me knowing that the BIG R that it said was the mall near Sta. Lucia. Then it went in tatay town proper (with a hell lot of trafic) through cainta then went left in junction...i didn't realize that there was another BIG R mall in the vacinity...I had to pay then ride anotehr jeepney again. Crap!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Then, at school, someone told me that I needed an appeal. I am not on the elligible list niether was I on the Inelligible list. now, I need another day to make an appeal so that I can continue my CS-happy-go-lucky days. &lt;em&gt;sayang nmn ang na take up ko sa CS noh...&lt;/em&gt; and i won't let all of that go to waste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;I just need to get ahead with the facts. I need to be informed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;tangalin na ang delingkwenteng dugo sa aking balat!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;*****&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Delinquency is the failure to do what law or a rule requires because of carelessness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114967954648279315?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114967954648279315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114967954648279315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114967954648279315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114967954648279315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/06/analytic-symptom-15-delinquency.html' title='Analytic Symptom #15: Delinquency'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114923442671574749</id><published>2006-06-02T00:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T00:47:06.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #14: Excessive Curiosity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I didn't realize doing something wrong because of pure curiosity and impulsiveness then being caught at it would be so much...uhmm...heart thomping.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;But things can be worse...at least...at least...never mind...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;My mind's racing and can't seem to find it's que to stop. Selective Amnesia to the rescue...haha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Curiosity is the desire to know, learn or experience something&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114923442671574749?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114923442671574749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114923442671574749' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114923442671574749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114923442671574749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/06/analytic-symptom-14-excessive.html' title='Analytic Symptom #14: Excessive Curiosity'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114900378191579158</id><published>2006-05-30T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T00:37:07.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #13: Fatigue</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;It has been a long week for the ordinary person like me. Much has happened and much of it causes certain pains and destruction in my life. Well, most of them anyway...but not all. Some of them improved my way of thinking...whether it may be bad or good. Nothing matters anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I have searched the back of my mind why I do these things and still I find no answers. This week has been, as a summary, tiring.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I hiked to far away places beyond my recognition just to do some mischief and chaos to my whole existence and cuts and bruises to my physical state. It contributed to much of the stuff in my life these past few days...the late night excutions that mystically vanished for a month and came back this week, for some reason unknown, the unpredictability of my mind and the unstoppable thinking-aloud manners that make me appear crazier than I really am. I have thought about it and I have no regrets. I have done it twice this week...haha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;All this rain made me think of stuff. My mind floats so much these days that I didn't even realize that I have fallen from the topmost flight of stairs to the rough ground below. A few painful seizures will make me remember all things in my mind at the time for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Trips to uncharted regions made me physically weak for a day. I have never experienced having no sleep, hiking for about 4-5 hours, exercising on the way, not eating then going back to your house just to take all the nonsense from your annoyed mother and then, when you thought you could rest, taking care of your nephew. Nothing can exhaust a person better. All my strenght has been taken away from me today just because of a series of unfortunate events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I will never regret anything I have done for the last couple of weeks even if they exhaust me this way forever. My decisions are mine to be responsible with. In fact, I will go hiking tomorrow again. I just hope I make it alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Maybe nothing else will be better for me. Life's lies, uncertainty and unpredictability has been taking the life force out from me but I won't let it get the best of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;For now, no sorry for the wicked but my sorry will come on one big strike...only if I am sure i will never do it again. As for now, I will imitate life as it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;I am tired of all these but I will not surrender to Life itself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Fatigue is the weariness caused by too much exertion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Please wait for me. If you are tired of my crap, then forget me.But I will never be tired of your smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114900378191579158?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114900378191579158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114900378191579158' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114900378191579158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114900378191579158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-13-fatigue.html' title='Analytic Symptom #13: Fatigue'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114847618999877128</id><published>2006-05-24T05:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T18:52:40.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #12: Irritation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;NOTE: Sorry for the heavy foul language involved in this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;All hell has broken loose today given I had nothing to waste my time in hollow jeepneys just to find out that you cannot do anything in your destination. I looked at the bright side of the day...for one, I forgot to pay the jeepney driver for I slept all through the ride until I abruptly woke up to find out that I was almost passing my stop. He did not notice anyway so what the heck. I came back here and did the same thing I always do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I found out heavy secrets of people that somehow I influenced. A big burden but I keep the same secret so no doubt I can keep it...I have kept mine for about 7-8 years now. Te day passed by chatting. Thats the only worthwhile thing I could do today. But the hell...nothing is special anyway...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Then, of all the time I could be interupted in a DotA game, the f*ckin computer programmer of the shop I play in crappily shuts every PC down...not even thinking of the customers...I might even say he IS not thinking at all...damn person. We were having a great game and then this has to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;If this unconvinience persists, given that VJ has found a more comfortable and cheap PC shop, It will be not our fault if we transfer to another shop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I hope that will never happen but the hell...if everything turns out this way...I will!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Irritation: A stubborn pain or unlikely feeling in ones body/mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114847618999877128?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114847618999877128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114847618999877128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114847618999877128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114847618999877128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-12-irritation.html' title='Analytic Symptom #12: Irritation'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114826956895060900</id><published>2006-05-21T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T20:57:55.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #11: Silence</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Nothing comprises this world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Except undetermined words&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Spoken only to fail his master&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Hate strangely creep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Confusion sets in the heart of the uncertain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Helplessness leaves us tainted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The lack of hope makes us fragile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Nothing comprises this world except failed hearts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Never attempting, never risking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;But how did I not see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The beauty that lies &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Right under my eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;My words may be unspoken but they are heard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;They may not be real, yet they are not lies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I have never seen you as you are now to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Thus with all these strangeness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I shall never speak again...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Silence is the lack of audible sound&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114826956895060900?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114826956895060900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114826956895060900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114826956895060900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114826956895060900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-11-silence.html' title='Analytic Symptom #11: Silence'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114819753709116825</id><published>2006-05-21T00:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T20:56:47.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #10: Frequent Headaches</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I know this is quite obvious given that I have not used my brain for...uhmmm...about half a year...well not that seriously, anyway! But the heck, I thought I will have less of these headaches but they seem to be cropping up these days more often. I really don't know why but I guess....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Maybe plainly because I don't have cash this past few days...&lt;em&gt;kahit man lng pang e-net tapos pag meron lagi nmng wala un hinihintay ko...tapos nun nanjan, ayaw me sagutin...&lt;/em&gt;well, I have already coped with the fact anyway...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Maybe because I have all these school papers to attend to...given the grand fiasco that happened last sem and that my scholarship shifted from this to that in a matter of months...That gave my quite a few head-crashing pain...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Maybe because I'm missing a person all this time but I never have the courage and the time to see her and that one of my close friends is drifting even farther apart from the rest of us...I really wouldn't like another parting and all that crap...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Maybe because of those chess matches we had these last few days that give me that creeps...the "The players do not see the moves and the audience see all the winning touches" kind of game...they say it's making a great comedy show...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Maybe because I stay late every night reading a book entitled 'Totem' thats full of grotesque and morbid deaths...&lt;em&gt;horror kasi&lt;/em&gt;. The funny fact is that I was only interested in the name of the author Ehren M. (&lt;--pronounced as 'ehm') Ehly. Like she loves the sound 'eh'...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Maybe because of my son...&lt;em&gt;este&lt;/em&gt; nephew...that I always take care off. &lt;em&gt;Sa kakulitan mababalda ka ng di oras...tapos 2nd floor pa kami nakatira at aatakihin ka sa puso pag tumakbo bigla sa hagdanan.&lt;/em&gt; Why I called him son? Well, because that's what other people think. I get comments like &lt;em&gt;"Cute naman...anak mo?"&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;"Ay un anak mo nanakbo!" &lt;/em&gt;or&lt;em&gt; "Bili mo naman ng kendi yang anak mo"&lt;/em&gt; for I guess the 27th time last time I checked...&lt;em&gt;hay naku...ayaw ko ngang tumanda pero binibigyan agad ako ng anak...&lt;/em&gt;not that I don't want one but for God's sake, I'm just 19...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Or maybe, just maybe, It's because I'm not using my brain for a loooooooooooooong time now...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;i guess thats what it is...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;maybe...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Headaches are major pains in the head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114819753709116825?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114819753709116825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114819753709116825' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114819753709116825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114819753709116825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-10-frequent-headaches.html' title='Analytic Symptom #10: Frequent Headaches'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114804418698821788</id><published>2006-05-19T05:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T06:09:47.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #9: Guilt</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What the hell is happening to me these past few weeks? I am not in the right state of mind, I rebel (for one) and I become as annoyed as hell most of the times. I have never been like this for...uhmm...7 years, I think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Another thing that I hate about the past few months is that I have drifted from my family even farther...taking note that I have not even been &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; close to them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;First, my sister (the eldest of my siblings) and I had rows...not a few but a lot of them. Most of them are mainly my fault and a few just because I'm not following or something...but I always keep my responsibility at range and I do whatever I am told...so nothing important about that...well not for now anyway...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Then, I pissed my mother off last mother's day. Nice gift I gave give her...but crap...I had a fair point and all, but then I felt I was crushed between two freagin' stones and I felt like I never did anything right and so...I walked away and did not come back until it was too dark to walk alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Well, here's the story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I tried my 100% to not to go out on mother's day and I can say I made about 75% of it (since I slipped away for an hour or two). My sister's husband initiated a general cleaning and so we had no choice but to clean...it was mother's day anyway so what the heck. So they took each and every dusty equipment out of the closet and into our wooden floor. A scrub here, a wipe there, some maintenance we were doing. Then after it all, my mother told me to put some thing back to where they were. So I did as I am told. I rested for a minute then came back to work. After some time, she scolded me because I put those things back in the closet...The hell...She told me just that! Then she added the reason for cleaning and stuff and I argued my point back. We were in intense arguments when my sister rushed to my mother's aid. I felt like two authorities nagging the hell out of me. I couldn't take the pressure and walked away until it was 10pm i think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I am a bad guy I know...but doing that on mother's day is like a stab in the back from a son...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I felt guilty...I must feel guilty...I'm not a barren piece of sh!t you know!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Well, we had two days of no communication at close distance but then she talked to me and now we are ok...I think...she does not keep anger you know...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;And She's the best if I might add...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;well, Nothing is better than a nice argument settled...but I can't take to do that again...unless I'm really pissed off....which I hope would never happen again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Guilt is the fact or feeling of being responsible for a mischievous or unlikely act.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114804418698821788?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114804418698821788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114804418698821788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114804418698821788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114804418698821788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-9-guilt_19.html' title='Analytic Symptom #9: Guilt'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114743049055723248</id><published>2006-05-12T02:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-12T03:41:30.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #8: Stupidity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;It has been a crappy day as far as I have seen it. Everything was out of my whole grand plan of a happy day. I planned and expected it to be a day-to-look-forward-to and that made me even more unsatisfied with the way all turned out to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;okay...let the whole story begin!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I planned to go to UP about a week ago and there turned out to be this KISSS thing that you can attend that will teach you to write HTML/CSS files for my very own website (Which I do need...&lt;em&gt;matagal ko nang kinukulit si pier para sa isang HTML book pero nde daw niya makita &lt;/em&gt;so Im stuck with doing nothing anyway). I thought that will help me a lot...in more ways than one! I will learn to do HTML and go to school and see the people I wanted to see for a long time and most of all...uhmm...well...I did not have the chance to do it anyway so...awww...just forget it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;So I asked my mother if I could come to school, and she took the hell out of me...literally... so that she would say "yes". She said all the possible excuses like "&lt;em&gt;mag-aalaga ka ng pamangkin&lt;/em&gt;", "&lt;em&gt;wala akong ibibigay na pamasahe sayo&lt;/em&gt;" and "&lt;em&gt;aalis kami ni ate mo".&lt;/em&gt; She didn't even answer yes to my "Can I go?" question...I sort of woke-up-early-took-a-bath-brushed-my-teeth-put-on-a-get-up-asked-for-fare-and-got-goin'...well, she had no choice (&lt;em&gt;sayang pagod ko&lt;/em&gt;). But I did not get out of the house without the her usual &lt;em&gt;sermon&lt;/em&gt; about the things I should do. FGS! Its just a day out of my routine! &lt;strong&gt;That&lt;/strong&gt; started my day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;I got out of the house and about 5 minutes out on the streets, It rained. I had to run to reach the nearest vacant space where there were no falling raindrops...andthe worse thing, I'm late...I said I'd meet pier at  6:30 and it already almost 7:00. I rushed and found that pier was not there anymore...or yet...for that matter. I went to UP alone...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;It was still raining when I got to Eng'g building in UP...in which case, I was almost soaked in rain water (&lt;em&gt;nasa gilid kasi ako sa unahan ng jeep tapos wala pa tabing un jeep kaya lahat ng ulan sakin pumapatak). &lt;/em&gt;I had to run again from AS to Eng'g...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I then found that the cursor tambayan was vacant for some reason. &lt;em&gt;Wala akong ka close na matatanong tungkol sa KISSS na un. &lt;/em&gt;I had no choice but to go back to the Eng'g entrance in hopes of meeting someone familiar...And guess what...I saw Pier standing there waiting for...I don't know...me? haha...I will not take the KISSS humiliation alone. We went to the room and I saw Cai, the 4th year one (not my batchmate). At least now I have someone to ask about this seminar or something. We got in perfectly without any trouble (THANK GOD!).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The session was starting already so we sort of made our way into 2 unoccupied PC's. Good thing there were only about 5 people in the room and we were not so disturbing. At this point, I was looking for familiar faces&lt;em&gt; na akala ko nagoorganize din nun event.&lt;/em&gt; For some reason, I miss them for a long time that I wanted to see...*ahem*...them (...) more than I wanted to listen to mari. I asked Cai to my friend's whereabouts but she said she don't know. My spirit kind of sank.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Then, with a sudden flash of hope, the other Cai (my batchmate) showed up and gave me a...not a hug but a...punch. Nice welcome! I thought everyone I was expecting is with her but no one followed her except Louis (her BF). At least I got to cahnce to punch her as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;No offense to Maricon but the whole session bored me. Its not her but me. I learned more to what Pier was doing rather than what Mari was teaching. Then, many other people came and that made me more uninterested because the noise level was rising and I can't make out what mari is saying. At least, I got what she was pointing out and was catching up just fine (thanks to pier). Then, Rowell, the Cursor person that I wanted to see the least, came and told me about my Cursor status, again, the one I wanted to hear the least. That brightened up my day even more! It all ended and I did not see the people I was expecting to see and I did not have the chance to do the things I had to do. Cra$p!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I wanted to look for Cai to say goodbye and tell her something I wanted her to tell the others but she seem to be eating somewhere or something, and she was out of sight. I had no choice but to go because only have until 3 to go back home and I am hungry already.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;The rain seemed to mock me all the way...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;At least, I had someone to talk to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I wanted to rest but I cannot, for some reason. I had everything planned out but nothing happened...and the way the day was going was even worse than I thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;How can I be so stupid and expect more from life. It's just soooooooooooooooooooo ironic and unfair...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;AZAR!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Stupidity is the state in which a person tends to make poor decisions or careless mistakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;okay, I'll admit it, &lt;em&gt;ikaw lang talaga ipinunta ko dun.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114743049055723248?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114743049055723248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114743049055723248' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114743049055723248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114743049055723248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-8-stupidity.html' title='Analytic Symptom #8: Stupidity'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114709401727549474</id><published>2006-05-08T05:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T04:43:17.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #7: Pathologic Lies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;No one knows me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Nothing here made me who I am, and nothing here shall change me until someone knows of my whole existence. But nobody can and nobody will, unless I pour myself to one unknown stranger...but I hope that time will never come. I cannot stand the knowledge that someone will have all the needed evidences to judge my each and every action. My life revolves around lies and secrets that nobody shall be able to acknowledge my very existence. Even at the very beggining, I have learned to rely on Logic to state my every move on life. Something true, everything false and nothing real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Truth can imply only the truth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Falsehood can imply anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Maybe it's just my escape from the coordination of reality and my own world. I can't take that my world can never surpass the threads of the real world...the world that is so cruel that I don't want to live in it anymore...but has no choice but to live in it anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;If this world is fully based on real logic then it would crumble like a supercomputer with only a faulty logic gate when I say "Everything I tell is a Lie". If I'm telling a lie then the statement is also a lie, meaning I'm telling the truth. Truth and Lies can never be present at the same time. Too much damage by a little statement. Imagine how I know my own reality...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I have told a lot of tall stories and a lot of real actions and I bind them to my very own existence. I keep track of everything that I say and connect them to an organized manner so that things are left unchanged by the ooposing lies. I have reasons, but no one would understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Somethings are better left unsaid and most of them are true. true to the point that no one wants to hear them anymore. At the end of the day, most people prefer to lie and leave the details unsaid. How ironic that many of us suffer these dillemmas. I have...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Nobody shall be contented with reality so they make their own and make them real for themselves. Nothing can change that fact.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I have nothing more to say for they are all lies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Nothing more...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Lies are causes of a certain mental illness that makes a person not say the truth and create their own story with the use of certain details that are available. It varies from being not able to say the truth to telling lies just to be noticed. Excessive lies become harmful and pathologic as time goes by.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;There has been a reported case wherein a mother reported that her daughter was not breathing and needed a spinal tap (a process in which doctor tap the baby's spinal cord so that brain signals can pass through normally but when the procedure fails, the patient may die). After the procedure, the baby was normal and on to recovery. The mother then confessed that no one was paying attention to her so she made that decision. She also said that the baby was perfectly normal at the time she reported the incident...she was breathing normally and was just fast asleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The mother was rehabilitated for a year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;She was a pathologic liar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114709401727549474?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114709401727549474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114709401727549474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114709401727549474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114709401727549474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-7-pathologic-lies.html' title='Analytic Symptom #7: Pathologic Lies'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114684095673748518</id><published>2006-05-05T07:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T06:35:03.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #6: Anger</title><content type='html'>I &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;just hate it when these things happen. Negative energy is always transferred from another mind to yours if a person in the vicinity becomes angry. Please, for God's sake, i'ts just a game! Its nothing life threathening or anything...but why don't we just enjoy the damned thing! Dammit! That shouting and f*cking curses made me more unstable than the one that the curses are pointed out to. I have been in the receiving end of those words and I know how it felt...And its not a good feeling...Like your whole reputation stands in the thin line between being maintained and being shattered...then being humiliated at the end by a good for nothing player that shouts insults when he's winning and makes stricken comments when he's losing...&lt;em&gt;laki ng ego na hindi na matatangal ang kayabangan...&lt;/em&gt;I just makes me so pissed off I want to punch him right in the face...&lt;em&gt;pero sabi ko nga,&lt;/em&gt; it's just a game. I can control myself you know! but not for long...I have limits you know?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Just let go of your "I must win" ego because it will do you no good...I did that letting go about a month ago...&lt;em&gt;walang naitulong e. Natalo pa rin kami.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Unti unti nang nawawala interes ko dati sa DotA...kung dati pinag-aaralan ko lahat ng hero, ngaun parang gusto ko na silang isumpa! parang gusto ko na silang I mass destruct...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Exaggerated but true...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Nothing personal but now I realize that I have made a mistake of making my vacation life turn around DotA...OKay...I have made really Good friends because of DotA specially expanding my circle of friends from my classmates only to the "Icon6" barkada. And Im most thankful for my teammates for they made the hardest times of my life seem like a simple game. They listen and thats all I need.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;I may never play DotA again if it means that my team and friends become angry at me and my whole barkada...at least it's safer that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Bukas RF na lng siguro...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I have learned that lesson that 'anger will never make anything good' a long time ago...I guess since birth. My father has always been the type that will shout on you if you have done something that is against his feelings...I have almost swallowed a whole banana pealing because he made me and my brother eat them because he thought we left them in the sink...cruel yah? Well, we had no choice but to live with the fact that he is my father. He would hurt us every time we don't obey but he's improved now. He doesn't hurt us anymore...well not physically anyway...but he's voice is most of the times 'shouting'...maybe its just him. I guess Its his nature and nobody can change that. I've got to live with it, eh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Now, I have a phobia on fathers...I hope this goes away...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;One single evidence why anger, for me, does not do anything good. I did a long-term damage to me and I hope it doesn't make another damage on my personality...long nor short term.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I know people have limits and can be angry, but (Please!) just be clear the next time you see the other party and explain yourself and let him (or them) explain too. that way, everything will be just fine. No Fight...No struggle right?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Well, nothing can be more satisfying than having everything cleared up after a fight. Well, I can say I only became trully angry angry once and no one...okay one person only...saw that happen&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I just hope I don't get angry anytime soon...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;That will make me age! I hate aging!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Well...at least, I don't have this particular symptom! Haha! A light note...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;****&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Anger is the state of mind where you cannot control yourself and your mind because of sudden emotions directed to something undesirable for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;"What's the use of anger anyway?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;                                    -anonymous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114684095673748518?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114684095673748518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114684095673748518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114684095673748518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114684095673748518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-6-anger.html' title='Analytic Symptom #6: Anger'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114679788041011438</id><published>2006-05-04T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T20:06:28.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #5: Change in Cognitive Functions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;I have been out of normal circulation in the past few days. My normal thinking is really ceased and my normal abilities seem to float away into nothing. What the hell is happening to me? I am now frequently having headaches when I go back to my house from duty...And by duty I mean another worthless day from the computer shop. Well, it's not all that worthless but it all sums up to fall in the cathegory of "worthless work". My friends say I am getting old at things...DotA being one of them...haha...I'm planning on quitting DotA anyway...but not RF if you're wondering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Back to the topic of me getting too old...or let's just forget me getting old...I don't want to get old...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Age stinks...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; have been through this stage of frequent headaches, I'm-loosing-my-ability and being-out days three times since I can remember. I really can't figure out why I go through this stages but I know if they are coming but still I can't seem to know what to do. I have never prevented them but, as far as I know, I survived them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;First, when I was going to High School and everyone expects too much of me. For god's sake, I was only top six of my class in elementary but all the pressure is on my shoulder and the worse thing is that I was not using my, or rather 'our', money for my education but that of my relatives and of the government. I had to shift from happy-go-lucky kid to a studious high school student. But, with all that GREAT competition, it didn't pay of that much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Second, last year only when I was again shifting from the good-studious-great high school student into a delinquent college prat. Haha...&lt;em&gt;napabayaan ko na aking mga clase kasi hindi naman required na pumasok sa lahat ng oras e kaya un...pag napagtripan hindi aatend sa mga boring na clase...&lt;/em&gt;well my head did not ache much too often those days but it rather felt uneasy specially when the Exam days come and the surprise recits come your way...Haha...I remember going out to the CR, after the checking of attendance, in a surprise recit day and I didn't come back...&lt;em&gt;buti na lang hindi ako natawag nung araw na un...&lt;/em&gt;hehe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Then now, I want to revert back to that person I was 6 years ago when I was still a good student (the one doing homeworks, projects and the one that studies). I really miss school. I don't know why but I miss being pressured by peers and teachers alike. I am now thinking of my next step and that makes my head surge with pain...&lt;em&gt;talagang pag hindi nagagamit ng matagal sumasakit noh?...&lt;/em&gt;but I can't blame anyone for my status nowadays...hehe...It's not anybody's fault, is it? It really doesn't matter anymore for it has passed...or I hope it did...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Another change and my head will explode...I just hope I stay in my current state of mind so that no more blood stricken pain exhales both in my physical and emotional states...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I'm just glad these attacks never happen suddenly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;A new start, a new beginning and a new outlook for the future is all that I need for my to move on...maybe I've got it already...hehe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Cognitive Funtioning is the normal way that one's mind moves or thinks depending on his mental history and habits. A sudden change in one's cognitive function (an improvement or downfall) may be a sign for a mental illness. One of the most obvious symptoms is frequent head aches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Examples: An accountant for 5 years suddenly looses his ability to compute simple mathematical problem. A person with a not-so-great educational background suddenly becomes a genius. A DotA addict becomes &lt;em&gt;banban &lt;/em&gt;for no reason at all (&lt;em&gt;tumatanda na daw ^_^).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;*****&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Sumasakin na ulo ko".&lt;/em&gt; At least this one's done on purpose!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;I'm not implying that I'm going crazy because really I am!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114679788041011438?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114679788041011438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114679788041011438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114679788041011438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114679788041011438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-5-change-in-cognitive.html' title='Analytic Symptom #5: Change in Cognitive Functions'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114672875322966899</id><published>2006-05-04T00:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T00:54:08.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #4: Hallucinations</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The night was so young that night. I was out on our balcony lying there with nothing to do. The sandman was not even showing up even though it was already 12:00 in the morning. I kept staring at the stars taking into consideration each and every movement that might mean a falling star or an alien spacecraft hovering somewhere overhead. I kept staring at the rosary constellation while saying an unintended prayer for the day to come. The Big Dipper is now deeper into the sky than I thought. Every now and then I kept looking for the Polaris to tell what time it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;30 minutes later still nothing happens to my whole boring excursions of the skies. Every twinkling light out there seem to mock me with the most number of insults. But my mind came to a halt as soon as the memory of her came into view. I just hate these phases when in the middle of nowhere I see her face floating towards the moon or something. I hate to think that I did not have time for her then, then all these has to happen. All these cr*p about me leaving her behind, about me taking another step towards my other self. Why does it have to be this way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Then something called my name but, FYI, it was not her but the voice of a guy...a familiar guy. A friend of mine. I don't know why he called but I had no choice but to answer. I walked down the big steps of our house to our mini-gate but nobody was there. Maybe it was just my imagination because It could not be really calling at this time of the night. But why did I hear his voice? I really don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;A flowery scent sent creeps up my neck. I really miss them that much, don't I? but no matter, I had my own scent to carry on to. Maybe nobody will make me stay this way...I'm just out of circulation these days...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Music from the shop kept me company for the rest of the night. I sang in the tune of "24Hours" until sleep came to me. I had no choice but to sleep on the wooden floor but it did not differ from my bed...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Tomorrow will be fine as long as I don't let anyone see me in this condition. Reminiscing everything this way will make me look like a crazy person ready to take on his own world. Thank God I have these conditions only at night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I just want to hold on to the memories of yesterday and may they guide me tomorrow...and tomorrow...and the next days of my life...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I just hope they are all real...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Hallucinations are triggered stimuli even though there is no existing cause for the stimuli to be triggered. This causes false images for the five senses and the one experiencing these situations may make the happenings to be true and might hurt them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Points to ponder:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;If a tree false in the woods but nobody was there to hear or see the fall, did it fall?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Imagine yourself in a locked room and without anything in it. Then you smell a scent or see something move. How do you know that it is real?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;How do we prove that this whole world is real?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114672875322966899?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114672875322966899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114672875322966899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114672875322966899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114672875322966899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-4-hallucinations.html' title='Analytic Symptom #4: Hallucinations'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114666371287192700</id><published>2006-05-03T06:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T06:41:52.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #3: Rapid Eye Movement (REM)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;It was one ordinary routine. The day started and continued for hours and hours and I never noticed how time passed. I did not realize it was becoming dark. The streetlights are now lit while I was waiting for someone. I took out my math notes for I will be having my math exam the next day. Then it happened. He just passed me by while I was sitting there alone reading my notes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I had the habit of labeling people at the time and the ones that strike me are the ones taking most of the mischievous labels. I saw him wearing a pink shirt labelled "Nobody knows I'm gay". Well, maybe thats enough on what I wanted to ask him...I thought "&lt;em&gt;wala palang nakakaalam e...bakit hindi mo pa sabihin&lt;/em&gt;" then I laughed...a hearty laugh...and the next thing I knew was that he was looking at me smiling. That smile wipped the happiness from my face...It's getting dark and I'm alone in this street...Whoa! Thats not a good sign.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;He approached me at a fast pace. I was afraid of two things: one, he was about to punch or kick me and Two, a worse thought. He was still wearing that evil smile. I closed my eyes for the worse...then a voice said "&lt;em&gt;kuya...wallet mo ata un o...muntik ko nang maapakan&lt;/em&gt;". I was shocked at the improvement of things and my mind had nothing to say but &lt;em&gt;"bading ka nga? (aba wala na akong masabi e)"&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;em&gt;"sa tingin mo?" &lt;/em&gt;he replied. &lt;em&gt;"Hindi&lt;/em&gt;...(&lt;--a lie)" I said. then he started ranting about &lt;em&gt;"kung sa tingin mo bading ako...siguro nga bading ako. kung tingin mo hindi, siguro nga hindi...kung wala kang tingin sakin...bulag ka"&lt;/em&gt;  stuff and he went his way. I was stunned at the power of his words. Then something collided with my face...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;hoy Vic, wallet mo nakakalat. baka hindi ka pa makauwi nyan!"&lt;/em&gt;  the friend I was waiting for slapped me in the face with my own wallet. That hurt, thus, It made me come back to my senses. &lt;em&gt;"wag ka ngang matulog sa madilim na parte ng mundo at baka kung ano pang mangyari sayo!"&lt;/em&gt;  I almost freaked out at the time and wanted to go to the nearest visible light. &lt;em&gt;"Meron ka bang nakitang tao na naka-pink doon kanina?"&lt;/em&gt; I asked. &lt;em&gt;"Wala...ikaw lang tulog!" &lt;/em&gt;she replied. I hastened to the jeepney. She asked me why I was rushing and I told her the whole story. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Now, I realized that I recognize the guy's face and it is very familiar...the one I see almost everyday...but how can he...I can't imagine...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Until now his words are still stuck to my mind and maybe it became part of me. I had the feeling I needed something from him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Now I never label people for what I see. A lesson hard learned!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Rapid Eye Movement is a phenomenon that occurs at stage 4 (or deep sleeps stage) of sleep. Our mind tend to associate the conscious from the unconcious experience of our body.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114666371287192700?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114666371287192700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114666371287192700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114666371287192700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114666371287192700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-3-rapid-eye-movement.html' title='Analytic Symptom #3: Rapid Eye Movement (REM)'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114664326228431205</id><published>2006-05-03T00:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T04:28:23.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #2: Nostalgia</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Every now and then, my mind flies out and goes out to nowhere in particular just to find my body unable to take the pressure. Hands shaking, mind racing and ultimately my whole body trembling in the middle of a game I'm suppose to be good at. Or maybe I didn't become good at that either. I didn't have enough energy to do two things at the same time...To wait for her and to waste my time playing a game I wanted to win at. but these things broke me down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I miss the times when I had to think about what I should do next. To look forward on seeing her again after some 1-2 hours later. To stay at a place that, even though Im not comfortable in, I stay just to fill my time...a place where I can do anything. OK...I miss my whole barkada back in UP but I still got to decide whether Im going to back to living poor with the Up-class people or staying where I can say I belong (well, not the lower class but the mediocre). haha...maybe I really have that "Obssesive Compulsive Disorder" and that "Sleep Apnea" thing and that makes me underconstruction at the time. Maybe I will never be whole again...I hope not...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I just hope to see my memories crystal clear once again as I once did...but what are memories anyway? a bunch of stored chemicals between the medial lobe and the cerebrum that's waiting to be untapped. Well, thats what I get from reading too much psychiatry books and watching Eliza Duskhu (&lt;---I love her) of the "Tru Calling" (in which they say It's true that your whole life DOES flash before your eyes when you die...or before you die that is). Ok...let's say I die...what will I remember?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Age 2: I almost slept while I had banana pealings stuck in my mouth since I was punished for things I did not get...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Age 5: I was happily going to my neighbor then I tripped over a stone. Then I happily stood up and played but my friends run away...I just noticed blood tricking from my forehead...happy times...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Age 11: I bought chocolate (cheap ones I might add) and left it in a classmates seat...Then one Ugly classmate of mine said &lt;em&gt;"nililigawan mo ba kaibigan ko?"...&lt;/em&gt;well, that shattered my world!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Age 14: I had my very first...uhmm...never mind..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Age 16: Skip...hehehehe.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Age 17: &lt;em&gt;naalala ko lagi si Lenneth...&lt;/em&gt;or...&lt;em&gt;cya na un&lt;/em&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Age 18: I had the worst year of my life...very low grades...low on cash and low on everything...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Age 19: Well, nothing more...I died right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Well, I accepted that "I am going to die tomorrow" a long time ago anyway so whats the use...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Well, I Got to move on with life but I want everyone in my life to be there with me all the way...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing else would make me happier...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ff99;"&gt;I just figured out within the past few days why I am fascinated by the name "Lenneth" I've been using for the past two years...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thats too much of a clue isn't it?....haha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Nostalgia: State of the mind in which the person experiences different feelings (may be bad or good) about happenings from the past.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114664326228431205?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114664326228431205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114664326228431205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114664326228431205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114664326228431205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-2-nostalgia.html' title='Analytic Symptom #2: Nostalgia'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27367171.post-114648605205014765</id><published>2006-05-01T05:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T04:25:55.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Analytic Symptom #1: Distress</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I have nothing to tell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;and nothing to write about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;but my mind is filled with everything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;that concerns you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I cannot stop and think,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I never knew you anyway&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;but i still get hurt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;When i read&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;about you and your world... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I may never be part of it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I will never be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Unless...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Unless...It does...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;But still nothing happens...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I wish you were somewhere near...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Or somewhere just as far...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;For my Life to start to turn again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Distress is the state in which a person needs immediate help.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27367171-114648605205014765?l=dextrobant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/feeds/114648605205014765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27367171&amp;postID=114648605205014765' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114648605205014765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27367171/posts/default/114648605205014765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dextrobant.blogspot.com/2006/05/analytic-symptom-1-distress.html' title='Analytic Symptom #1: Distress'/><author><name>dextrobant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15470543803138199175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3151/2201/1600/wa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
