<?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-5414622840977440502</id><updated>2011-07-31T13:08:51.242+08:00</updated><category term='SHATEC'/><category term='disappointment'/><category term='movie'/><category term='Happy'/><category term='leave'/><category term='baking'/><category term='K'/><category term='Massage'/><category term='cartoon'/><category term='Enjoy'/><category term='You are the One'/><category term='fun'/><category term='good friday'/><category term='goal'/><category term='Fall'/><category term='work'/><category term='gathering'/><title type='text'>I shall let people wait, and not vice versa.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>366</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2693127594582067214</id><published>2010-09-21T18:12:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T18:13:23.545+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Shifted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=//pomelloismyname.livejournal.com&gt;pomelloismyname.livejournal.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2693127594582067214?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2693127594582067214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2693127594582067214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2693127594582067214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2693127594582067214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/09/shifted.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1292323179811178184</id><published>2010-09-13T22:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T23:27:43.064+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Cleaning</title><content type='html'>Time to do some spring cleaning on this blog. It gets so dusty now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm sucha ass at work. He never do it wrong, just that it ain't our culture, but he gets fucked by me. But I was trying not to be hush with him. But he just piss me off. He wants to learn, but somehow, he's too blur. Like, he just concentrate on task on hand, he doesn't observe what people is doing around him. And he doesn't know how to plan himself, not even his working area, like clearing up etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry, I know I'm pushy about it. I know how you felt, you gets pissed off, I know. Getting fucked for nothing. I've been through what you're going through, I very well know how you feel, but I believe, it'll come into help, I may not be as good as the rest, but at the very least, what I'm passing to you is my basic, the basics that we all should understand of working. Putting your heart into it, is the key to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone told me something that I've never realised all along. She told me that whenever I talks about someone/something I like, my facial expression is always filled with anticipation. I'm like 'oh really?'. I didn't knew that much. I didn't know I sounded and looked that happy, even though I'm grumbling about something that's bothering me. Sounds contradicting yea? I also don't know what I'm trying to get across though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till lately, feelings floating up again. Sometimes, when people says something about him, my mind starts thinking of him all over again. And it's back to one. It doesn't get off my mind! Like I don't know why! I thought I've gotten over, but apparently I think not, because when I was telling my friend about him just now, she told me: you have sucha different expression when you talk about this somebody. And I knew once she says this, it confirms what I'm feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, so far, only one. I don't want to go further into it, I don't want to force the issue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If meant to be, we'll be. That's all I could say to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I was trying to tell this friend of mine when we're at esplanade chilling. It's so difficult for me to open up to guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta run, and sis getting my sub credit card. yay! I can enjoy discount now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1292323179811178184?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1292323179811178184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1292323179811178184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1292323179811178184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1292323179811178184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/09/spring-cleaning.html' title='Spring Cleaning'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2285871548962946931</id><published>2010-09-01T22:27:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T22:34:50.556+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I so feel like quiting this fucking job. Not because it's tiring or what. But seriously, this place just ain't the place for me. I don't myself upgrading there. I feel really useless even working full time. Like, I'm of no use!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I finish the bond, I'll go find other job, and I want to go overseas to study. I want to go probably le cordon bleu for a degree in culinary n pastry baking, or a advance diploma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not rushing to climb up a high position, what's the rush all about? I don't need to be of high rank. Now seriously what's in my mind is, I'll just work for the rest of my life. I wants to go overseas. I really wants to go overseas, to work, to study. There's too much foreigner in my country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can someone bring me to a better place?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I wish, I can be back to be working in the office.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2285871548962946931?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2285871548962946931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2285871548962946931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2285871548962946931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2285871548962946931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-so-feel-like-quiting-this-fucking-job.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1169612364288061341</id><published>2010-08-27T22:02:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T22:24:50.549+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Remembering the days back then, when we made the promise of staying together and leaving together. But till date, when he tells me that he wants to leave, I didn't have the thought of leaving together. I know I would leave one day, eventually, but just not now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now that I'm working with people I used to enjoy working with, I'm really enjoying. There's jennifer, lau is back, zin maung is my gossip partner, luqman is my something wrong ahboy. What's more I need to ask for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in fact, yes, because he pursuaded me to stay. But when I work with him, I dislike it. He's no difference from Joshua though. And I seriously don't understand, he's a cook 2, I'm also a cook 2, why do he have to bark at me? When I'm just merely doing my work, whatever he barks at me, wasn't my responsibility?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thought of me enjoying my work now, makes me think of staying slightly longer. Though I may not learn much, but seriously my mind's thinking 'why is there a need for me to be someone well known? Which isn't necessary in anyway. I just want to be someone, who makes a difference in others life. I don't want to be look up, or even kind of like worshipped type of person. I just want to be a normal person, to live, to work, to earn money, to love.' That's all I asked for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After working with him, I kinda look down on him. Yes, he can do food, but he doesn't know how to organise his people. He can use food, but he doesn't know how to control his ingredients. He still could tell me, saying that he dislike paper work, he just wanna be a chef in a small restaurant. But if you can't even bloody organise your people, and talk to your people nicely, how could you be a chef in the first place?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what more to say. But it's like I'm just passing day for day. I just want the money.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1169612364288061341?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1169612364288061341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1169612364288061341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1169612364288061341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1169612364288061341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/08/remembering-days-back-then-when-we-made.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7725819587272192261</id><published>2010-08-26T21:27:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T21:35:44.734+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is so badddd!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;July, mp3 died on me. August, first time ever, I lost my phone. I was upset about mp3 as it was a gift I worked hard for during my O level. I am still upset over my lost phone, because all memories is in that phone. All the pictures and all the contacts of my beloved chef's is in that phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What more to come? I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, as for work. The other time Danny pulled me in. And as expected he'll leave me behind for sure. It's okay, I still have my shifu around. But just that I'll leave, just god knows when.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Lau is back in action with us.He's damn fun a person to be around. He used to be rather quiet. But I don't know what happened to him. Come back work with him 3 days only, bicker like mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my life, we shall see again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7725819587272192261?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7725819587272192261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7725819587272192261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7725819587272192261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7725819587272192261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/08/this-is-so-badddd-july-mp3-died-on-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-843907557676633032</id><published>2010-08-16T01:28:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T01:56:42.348+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know what's the fucking problem with me. Like seriously. Went work with a average mood. Then my mood slowly changed negatively. Till now, my mood went down the drain, mind's off. It seems just like I can't remember what I just did at work. I need a life. My life's so dead now. One thing is because I'm trying to save. The other is, others got their own life, just only me, I don't have one. Fml.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had so much in mind just now. But till I come to my blog, I don't know what to say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of having to double check every single thing before I leave. I'm tired of clearing shit for people. I'm tired of cleaning up when people mess them up. I'm tired of being the last one to leave the kitchen these days. I'm tired of having to photocopy those bloody shit papers just because people only use. I'm tired of talking things out, since nothing works. I'm tired of being played on just because I don't have the power to put on a challenge. I'm tired of being nobody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just happened that I got into a foul mood just now at work. And yes, I wish I could jump down from the 31st floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And can people just stop bringing my morale down for a moment and better off forever. I just wanna learn as much. Not just learning for skills, I'm just experiencing life. Just let me get down with it alright?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what the fuck I'm stress with apparently. I'm not really physically tired. I'm mentally tired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needa breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was chasing the bus just now, and I ran. Couldn't run much with sucha jeans that drops every 3 steps. But I tried running as much as I could, I never thought the pant it gave, was so good. I wished I had ran home instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want a shoulder to lie on, why is it so tough to get one? :'(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-843907557676633032?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/843907557676633032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=843907557676633032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/843907557676633032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/843907557676633032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-dont-know-whats-fucking-problem-with.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-5018370299910425900</id><published>2010-08-14T10:57:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T10:59:03.202+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There seems to be some confusion in my feelings, between work and personal life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn it! Why still go into it, when somehow I expect it would happen?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fml.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-5018370299910425900?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/5018370299910425900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=5018370299910425900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5018370299910425900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5018370299910425900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/08/there-seems-to-be-some-confusion-in-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4454759995051795205</id><published>2010-08-14T02:25:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T02:26:30.529+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>不知正么了，这几晚，眼泪会制动的落下来。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:'(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4454759995051795205?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4454759995051795205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4454759995051795205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4454759995051795205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4454759995051795205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7307441270699109440</id><published>2010-08-12T14:54:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T23:21:18.290+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What's wrong with me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like suddenly, during a more free time, I'm starting to miss him again. Just what's wrong? I thought I've let go sometime back, but now I'm back to square one, right back at the starting point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;回到原点。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.15pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;今夜我又这么了？为什么想起过去的回忆，眼睛竟然是湿湿的， 心里酸酸的？ &lt;br /&gt;但，我早已忘了之前那开心幸福的感觉了。&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7307441270699109440?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7307441270699109440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7307441270699109440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7307441270699109440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7307441270699109440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/08/whats-wrong-with-me-its-like-suddenly.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-5845928885034992780</id><published>2010-08-12T00:00:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T00:09:44.439+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Met up with Simone last saturday. oh god, it had been so long! I really enjoyed myself. Some updates for each other, it was a good day though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My back hurts badly these days. Was wondering was it my injury. I daren't go to the doc, because I believe, doc would ask me go x-ray, and there's no cure for it, only I, Lim Pek Xi Pamela, gets out of this line. Stop working as a chef. Which is close to impossible, like seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day, mone asked me questions. 'How's 'he'?', 'you still like him?' I don't know, but the questions keeps churning in my mind. It's likely to be just a crush. Yes, probably I don't like him anymore. I don't know where my heart is now. There's only work that I could think about. I don't want a man, in the same line as me. I know our opinions sure flip. And people wouldn't like the serious me at work, cos I'm a total bitch, if things are under my control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for the lonely nights, lonely train journeys, early breakfast. I miss him. Really. It had been long since I had nice chats with him. It seems as though there's a missing piece in life. Dinner no longer feels warm without him. Train journey's always lonely. Breakfast doesn't feel spirit-lifting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you. Be it as a friend or someone special.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-5845928885034992780?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/5845928885034992780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=5845928885034992780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5845928885034992780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5845928885034992780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/08/met-up-with-simone-last-saturday.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4066595754342643639</id><published>2010-08-05T01:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T01:33:48.447+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It'd been quite some time since I updated.. Doubt anyone reads this blog anyway, because I always neglect then I come back once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As usual nothing much for me to update though, because it's all about work. I'm rather happy at work now, although everytime kena thrown to die like that. But I know I can manage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My right eyes had been twitching. Since last thurs/friday. Even till now. It's still twitch occansionally. I can say more than 10 times a day. Two days ago, I realise it twitch, then my right eye can't see clearly, my vision runs. Then if I wear specs, it still twitch, but lesser. And eyes feels more comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thought was today(4/8), if it still persist I'll go to the doc. So early in the morning, twitching wasn't bad, whole morning only once or twice only. Then only when I got to work, it couldn't stop twitching! Pissed off. Make me so uncomfortable at work. Cutting things then suddenly my eye lid keep twitching alr! Sigh. Tml wake up, eat already, go doc then go work. Sigh. Why my eyes like that?!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so allegic to work. Only to work, then my eyes twitch. Lol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4066595754342643639?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4066595754342643639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4066595754342643639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4066595754342643639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4066595754342643639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/08/so.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-147219506336582680</id><published>2010-07-20T21:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-20T21:35:38.629+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It'd been long since I last blogged. Quick update today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've started my full time job with conrad for 2 weeks already. Getting rather tired. And due to the long hour stay in the kitchen, I've been going out dinner with collegues then home. Because of this, I feel as though I'm kind of losing friends. I don't get to meet up with my ex-schoolmates, ex-collegues as often. Sometimes, even off days, I still meet up with them. And so, bonding with workplace collegues are stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that bond's strong, I see the 2 sided face, so clearly. Of different people. I don't wish to comment on anything. Since saying anything is useless. I've seen the before and after of a human change which one would not see if you're consistently next to the person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a disappointment for me to see such a drastic change in a human. From the better to the average. The disappointment doesn't motivate to work as hard for the person I used to be motivated by. Instead, those disappointment and a little of regret for staying, makes me work like shit. Frankly speaking, now I know why people always tell me, don't stay, don't go, for the people. Human does change. Even in this very short of 4 months. The drastic change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And whatever I've done, I never seems good enough. Mistakes are unforgiven. I was pissed, seriously. Since it's so that I've gone back, they wouldn't want me to do this, don't want me to do that. Fine, I don't do, then later you guys again are the one who said I'm ain't of any help. Then what's the difference of me being there and not there? Am I right to say that? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's so much I wish to complain and complain about work. I could easily find someone to pour my anger and fustrations on. But what for I do so, it's all the aftermath of the decision I've made. I should not regret the decision I've made, but just get done with. There's nothing else I could say, but just to say, 'sorry chef'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, this life sucks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got so much to say, but yet, I can't voice out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm wishing for a drink and humph.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-147219506336582680?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/147219506336582680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=147219506336582680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/147219506336582680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/147219506336582680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/07/itd-been-long-since-i-last-blogged.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-8008853019160224634</id><published>2010-06-30T16:54:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T17:05:00.140+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I borrowed his book, about 1 week plus ago. I know I can't finish reading, and I know he wants it back when I return to work. So I took it to photocopy. I know it can't be bought in singapore, and also to photocopy for a precised and detailed book like this, with not much pictures, it's worth it. I happily took it to photocopy. When I took my copy, I first checked the original, if inside wad ok. It didn't occur to me the outside would be affected. Till when I hold the book, I feels winkles on the side of the book. They photocopy, pressed so hard that there're bent marks, pretty obvious on the hardcover. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've sms-ed him to tell him about it and apologies, but have yet to reply. Probably he'll be fuming mad. But seriously, I didn't do it with intention of spoiling his book. Sigh, if I'm the one, I also angry la. So new a book, only able to be bought in london, lend to people, come back my book cover become like 10years old. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it weren't because of me, being greedy, wanting another book, that can't be bought in singapore. All this wouldn't have happened. I'm really sorry. But I don't know what else I can do besides apologies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart feels so heavy, really heavy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-8008853019160224634?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/8008853019160224634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=8008853019160224634' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8008853019160224634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8008853019160224634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-borrowed-his-book-about-1-week-plus.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2528791311716179891</id><published>2010-06-16T22:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T22:12:25.312+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Everytime you step close, everytime you come close. &lt;br /&gt;I can feel you, I can feel my heartbeat fast.&lt;br /&gt;It feels like dream, yet I wish it's dejavu.&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for things to develop, yet I don't wish to hold high hopes.&lt;br /&gt;High hopes, makes me fall deeper.&lt;br /&gt;Every guy I meet, every different experience I get.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, more will come by soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2528791311716179891?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2528791311716179891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2528791311716179891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2528791311716179891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2528791311716179891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/06/everytime-you-step-close-everytime-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2472931538326414992</id><published>2010-06-14T23:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T23:11:18.548+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boyfriend</title><content type='html'>What's the whole point of having a boyfriend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Common Question.&lt;br /&gt;Someone: Yesterday off, go where? Go out with boyfriend?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No boyfriend to go out with lah.&lt;br /&gt;Someone: Why no boyfriend?&lt;br /&gt;Me: .... How I know?&lt;br /&gt;Somone: Go find one lah.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I tried, I wanted people, people don't want me.&lt;br /&gt;Someone: *silent* (dare not ask further)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why? I know, deep down my heart I want a boyfriend quite badly though. But not that I've not tried, I've tried, but no one wants me. Probably it's karma, for me laughing at my sis to have her 1st boyfriend only when she's 18. Now it's my turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know somethings can't be rushed. But... I'm getting kind of impatient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a idiot at love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2472931538326414992?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2472931538326414992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2472931538326414992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2472931538326414992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2472931538326414992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/06/boyfriend.html' title='Boyfriend'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4909046036318191407</id><published>2010-06-13T23:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T23:39:54.329+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You've make my mind pretty sure. I should stop 'jumping' and observe to what you're trying to tell me. When would the day come, when you come clean with me about everything? I know there're somethings you know, just that you rather keep quiet about it. When would you tell them to me? I won't force, I'll just wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Using brain to think, I can come up with lots of things positive. Using feelings to think, it's 50-50. Using heart to feel, I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another 10days to go! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4909046036318191407?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4909046036318191407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4909046036318191407' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4909046036318191407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4909046036318191407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/06/youve-make-my-mind-pretty-sure.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-8537717102755244213</id><published>2010-06-10T00:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T00:23:33.947+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've finally picked up the courage and asked chef william this evening, regarding abt full time. He gave me a look with assurance, that I'm sure to get the job. I can rest assured now. I can't wait any longer, although I said I would wait till he approach me. It's not that I'm desperate for a job now, I could lived without a job for probably half a month or so. But just that sis is planning to resign, so she needs me to be stable for the moment, at least for the household.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's a great day for me, I swear. :) Early in the morning, I had breakfast with him. Then walked to work together. Then kind of working together with him, because I need to help him with the indian curries. I know, it's just work. After work went out movies together with him, jen and yy. Though again, I don't get to sit with him, it's alright. Pressences that counts. Trained back together with him n Yy. Yy got down the train first, followed by me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Yy alighted, he started telling me about his first job experience as a banquet staff, and how much he earns. I'm surprise, he starts such conversation with me. Chit chat a little, and I've reached my station. I was like, 'damn, why can't train moves slower today?!' It's so fast to reach! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised, everytime we chat, we do give eye contacts. However, most of the time, I don't know why, I can't look into his eyes for more than a second. I feel comfortable with him around, just that I don't know why, I would feel shy looking into his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only, today would be everyday. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-8537717102755244213?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/8537717102755244213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=8537717102755244213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8537717102755244213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8537717102755244213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/06/ive-finally-picked-up-courage-and-asked.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4585159163748051009</id><published>2010-06-08T11:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T11:57:31.416+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Don't know if it's because that I'm finishing my attachment or what, but I'm kind of starting to lose my interest in working. I'm working without a heart, all I've been doing these days, I just go work, ask me to do things, I just do, I don't know what's going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to work now, ends up to be more like, making coffee, buy coffee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's no longer working as a kitchen staff, it's more of working as a maid. To serve people, to listen to orders of masters. This kind of life, kinds of sucks. It took my interest, my motivation away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FASTER, I WANT TO HAVE MY FULL TIME IN COLD KITCHEN! AT LEAST, I WORK LIKE A STAFF THERE, NOT A MAID!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4585159163748051009?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4585159163748051009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4585159163748051009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4585159163748051009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4585159163748051009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/06/dont-know-if-its-because-that-im.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7912081223518571933</id><published>2010-06-05T23:27:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T23:48:28.114+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The teasing did not lessen, instead, it gets more and more ridiculous. It may be pure disturbing, or tongues may wag because of something that had happened. If it's pure disturbing it's perfectly fine, but I'll shy one leh. If it's due to something that happened, what could it be? It's not from my side, because, I don't even know, what and where went wrong, I didn't do anything beyond friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the way people say things, seiously makes me feel more....suspicious. More like &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt; got something to do with it. And &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt; have got very good skills, of which to 'act blur' and just keeps quiet, pretending not to hear anything. Not missing out, &lt;strong&gt;your&lt;/strong&gt; fantastic answer of 'dunno' all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You&lt;/strong&gt; makes me want to ask &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt; out for a talk, just between the two of us, but I wouldn't. Because I really wants to know, what's happening, and why had I became the topic of people. However, I chose to believe, that &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt; are mature enough, when you have the courage, &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt; would automatically comes to me and tells me about it. If it's predestiny to be meant for one another, the day would come, just when.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in predestiny. Well, I meant by in relationship wise. Career, family, there's always things you can do to work hard and change things round. However, Love, I don't think there can be of anyways, it all depends on feelings. When one is meant for the other, you could feel, and when it matches, that's when Love sparks. If there's no feeling, if both hearts don't match, no matter how hard one tries, there's no point to it. If no feeling, hearts match, maybe still have chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seems to be talking crap. I know nothing about love. I'm a sucker at love. So even there's something to do with him, I wouldn't know. Because I don't know how it's like, to be loved by a man. I need to be told.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry if I'm an idiot at it, even though if there's any hint. I'm just a sucker for it. I, would wait for &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt; to make the first move. Even if it meant rejection.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7912081223518571933?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7912081223518571933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7912081223518571933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7912081223518571933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7912081223518571933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/06/teasing-did-not-lessen-instead-it-gets.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1924524980433034200</id><published>2010-06-05T22:37:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T22:37:53.439+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>一星期不见，我想念。&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1924524980433034200?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1924524980433034200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1924524980433034200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1924524980433034200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1924524980433034200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/06/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7691815010945733745</id><published>2010-06-04T00:20:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T00:23:34.634+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know why but time and time again, the assurance he gives, makes me trust and believe him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. Don't ask me who is he. But it ain't about r/s.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7691815010945733745?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7691815010945733745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7691815010945733745' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7691815010945733745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7691815010945733745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-dont-know-why-but-time-and-time-again.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-8165504197345121947</id><published>2010-05-31T21:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-31T21:44:29.563+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I cannot help but keep complaining and ranting that I'm bored at home. I'm seriously bored to the max. Since there's nothing much I can do at home, nothing much I can eat. Appetite lost too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wants to go out. But I believe people refuses to date me out for 2 reasons. One is that I'm still sick, yet to fully recovered. Two, I need to save, I've been overspending for the past months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, someone didn't make it to his words. Even till now, I haven't watch movies with him yet. Sigh. Pamela, you just have to get over this guy, and wait for your Mr Right. Perhaps, it's better to be single, till the day, someone who would really loves me appears. Because, being one sided is really tough. Seriously, I wish to know what's on his mind, when we were put together verbally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just a few days away. I'll wait for you, to see, if there were to be any changes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-8165504197345121947?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/8165504197345121947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=8165504197345121947' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8165504197345121947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8165504197345121947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-cannot-help-but-keep-complaining-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-8181106873715553437</id><published>2010-05-31T16:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-31T16:31:33.410+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>我做错了什么事，我可以改。&lt;br /&gt;但，你可不可以不要不理我。&lt;br /&gt;我做错了什么，跟我说吗。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;可能，你不是我在寻找的。&lt;br /&gt;不过，你给了我不少的美丽回忆。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to doctor just now in the morning at amk rmg.&lt;br /&gt;I walk into the clinic, I was hoping for someone to cure me.&lt;br /&gt;But I stepped out of the clinic, thinking I'm going to die.&lt;br /&gt;The doctor was old, she was slow.&lt;br /&gt;After examination, she told me, the only medication she could give was the one previous doctor gave. I said, but eat already still pain. She replied, that's the only medication she can give. So? If that medication doesn't cure my pain, I'm going to die? Seriously, what the fuck?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chris sms-ed me last night. Asking me about work etc. I had a tough time, wether to tell him I've already made up my mind to stay. He took lots of effort and hassle, in asking me to leave, suggesting places for me to go. But till the end, I kind of let him down. I told him, give me 3 months to determine if there's still hope to stay on. He said that he understands my situation and wishes me all the best. I know he's cursing and swearing at me. But I really had no strength to go on with him ytrday night. I don't know why, after telling him everything, and he wishes me all the best, I teared. I seriously teared, maybe even cry, I don't know. I know he very 'gek xim'. Sorry Chris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was going smoothly. Didi, work, all went smoothly. But suddenly, it seems to have a boat overturned. Everything overturned, 180 degrees flipped. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-8181106873715553437?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/8181106873715553437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=8181106873715553437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8181106873715553437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8181106873715553437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/went-to-doctor-just-now-in-morning-at.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1841184543528808213</id><published>2010-05-30T15:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T15:33:56.388+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>After much struggle, I've decided, I would stay. Yes, I'll trust danny, till the day if there would be anything that happens, only then, I'll move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I've yet to tell chef yet, they haven't really approached me yet. When they ask I'll just agree lor. But that's when joshua tenders his resignation. Hopefully he does so soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, went shopping last 2 days. Despite me for not feeling well. Friday, I bought a pants, I love it ttm. It was size 36 though, a little tight, but after wash it'll be loose. Yeah! One size smaller again. My weight flactuates, but on a whole, it's still going down. Then, when I was trying on my pants, mum stared at me. I asked her if she's staring at me or at my pants. She said, 'I don't know what to do with your old pants sia.' Is like seriously, I have many many clothes at home now that can't be worn, tops still okay, is the bottoms. My jeans skirts, all cannot wear sia, all will drop, wear belt also very ugly leh. Pants also all can drop, wear belt also ugly alr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I end up buying new clothes, so no money. Then I bought sandals again, yes, again. I wanted to buy pumps, end up buying sandals. I can't fit in my pumps or those pump heels anymore. All gone loose, I simply can't walk in them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See there's so many things I need to change and have a turn over, yet I need to save money! How?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm always the one teaching people how to save money. You're the first to teach me how to save.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1841184543528808213?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1841184543528808213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1841184543528808213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1841184543528808213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1841184543528808213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/after-much-struggle-ive-decided-i-would.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-5314941657528303422</id><published>2010-05-28T02:38:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T02:57:11.504+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tust, Confidence, Faith</title><content type='html'>How would you people feel like when people's trust, faith, confidence in you, overflows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously at the rate it's going, I rather no one trust me, have that much of confidence in me, like see-rai-ous-ly. I'm a silly girl. I don't know how strong am I, till I need people to tell me so. I never knew I was that good, that someone would actually wants me to stay with him, and he wants me to be his main support for maintaining standard. Why does he trust me so much? When I've not worked with him before. I asked, he said through his observation on me, and his sixth sense. Am I that good?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never wanted to be the best of the best, neither even the best. All I ever thought of, was to learn, to work and make a career out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some others told me, I deserve a better place than here. I should go look for a job when possible and not stay. But due to the facts that I would to be considering, I can't stop working. I'm not financially stable. And the fact that I'm inexperience to start of with a cook2 in other hotels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do understand that I should take every comments with a pinch of salt, and I need to take things easy and think properly since I've still got a month to go. Nobody understands me, I plan my future ahead. Before I end a phase, I have to have my next phase ready for me. I don't have much time to waste-though I don't know where I'm rushing to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe he can change and make things turn-around. I ever thought of staying and making a difference. But I didn't have the experience to carry out. Now I've got someone with experience, who can make a difference, and me, I'm able to support and influence the attitude of people. Should we go ahead with it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 months, would he leave me alone behind? I'm really afraid. Would there be someone who picks me up along the way and bring me to a better world? I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can God tell me, am I that good that people wants me, or it's just physco? Please answer my prayers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really think until I want to cry already. So badly. I know I should stop rushing myself, I still have time. If I were to let loose of myself, I will never come to a conclusion after I graduate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can this guy be trusted? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:'(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-5314941657528303422?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/5314941657528303422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=5314941657528303422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5314941657528303422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5314941657528303422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/tust-confidence-faith.html' title='Tust, Confidence, Faith'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-8795420569268094817</id><published>2010-05-25T22:00:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T22:21:43.122+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;What more can I not love about this kitchen?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had such a great time today in the kitchen. I don't know why, I just felt the bonding there. People are all so fun, cute, nice. I'm almost like a clown now in the kitchen. I maybe abit irritating la, but it's been long since I was able to make a group of people laugh out loud. Now I know, the fun of being a clown, to see people laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, should I be puzzled or happy that people trust me. As you know, when I was in cold kitchen, all of them trusted me so much, they never doubt me at all. I can feel the trust, faith, confidence they have in me. Then now, I at main kitchen, yes they still treats me like a trainee, but the trust they give, ultimately makes me confident. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My chef could easily ask me to sharpen his knife for him. And he didn't test the sharpnest at all. How many of a chef would do that? Though he seems nonchalent and cool about knives, his work. But when I see how he treats me and other trainees, he boost that little confident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had to teach the other trainee, on how to trim a carrot properly, before cutting them into the almost-same size. But for me, they just cut a sample, put on my chopping board give me. You see the difference?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so in love with these people! Especially, 乃爸！&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-8795420569268094817?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/8795420569268094817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=8795420569268094817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8795420569268094817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8795420569268094817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-more-can-i-not-love-about-this.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7174857875267510425</id><published>2010-05-23T22:50:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T23:05:03.382+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know what to say, but I'm really really touched. I'm really greatful of who I've met so far. They knew, I could go further, a better place than this. When I said I'm finding job, they knew I'm going in there for an interview, they calls them up. He knows I'm troubling to find a job, he finds me options, gives me faith, confidence. He's really the best out of the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wanted to pull me in, but in the end, there was an overflow of staff at his place. His head brought alot people in, hence I've got no chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really love him to bits lah. It's like he annoys alot people. Alot people dislike him. But then, he's so adorable can. He does irritates me, but still he treats me real nice. He guides me through many things. Thought me many things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why, but I'll believe what he says. I wanted to follow him, but still. I don't know what more to say. I'll call up the previous chef, ask him if he's hiring people. Well, whatever it takes, wherever can bring me to a further place, I'm willing to try. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never someone like him, could bring up my confidence that high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't misunderstand, he ain't my boyfriend. He's just someone special.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7174857875267510425?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7174857875267510425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7174857875267510425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7174857875267510425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7174857875267510425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-dont-know-what-to-say-but-im-really.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4914869657791777223</id><published>2010-05-22T00:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T00:59:57.886+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was in that bad a condition, that i felt like messaging you, asking if I can wait for you to travel together, I don't wanna be left alone, because I know how i can fuck myself till i can go crazy. Till the end, I didn't. You seems happy today, I don't wanna dumpen your spirit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did ask melody, she and cheryl wanted to wait. Then again, they had wonderful gp dinner, I don't want my black face to spoil their mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, I came home alone, bought mac, I just felt like eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope there's someone who can hold my hands and walk me through such things. Because, even myself, I'm tired of how I'm torturing myself mentally. I think I'm mentally sick, perhaps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a happier note, I got programmes lined up for me the next week. Thurs, likely to have 'farewell' dinner for danny. He's last day. Then Fri prolly meeting up with jiayi and co, maybe for ice cream or so. Sat meeting AiAi saliza. Like finally, I suppose I haven't met her for about 3 years? it was ever since collection of Os results till date. Then Sun would be family dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I messaged him on facebook. But there isn't seems to be a reply. I apologised for being bo chup when he actually greeted me when I was upstairs. I really wasn't on purpose today. It's just that my mood was so foul today. I'm sorry, really sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4914869657791777223?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4914869657791777223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4914869657791777223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4914869657791777223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4914869657791777223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-was-in-that-bad-condition-that-i-felt.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-573741122039554611</id><published>2010-05-22T00:29:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T00:39:15.277+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I screwed up at work today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an important function for our kitchen tomorrow. The white asparagus are expensive and limited. What the fuck did I do, by not even being able to peel them clean, sucha easy job? What was wrong with me, where's my quality standard I always have for myself? End up, chefs weren't happy, all needs to be re-peeled once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And why the fuck was I being smart-alec to tell people, 'oh chef didn't peeled it so high up' when it's meant to? And people starts to push to blame all to another person. I'm at fault. Why didn't they just scream and yell at me? Chef Kenny nagged, Kelvin nagged. But in the end, chef kenny taught me about the logic behind blanching things and running through cold water, etc. I feel real bad! Everytime I screw things up, they would just double the job for me. Then just nag and that's it. Then tell me, it's okay, it's a lesson learnt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, usual me, when I've done something wrong and I knew I was at fault, I would stop myself from finding fault on others, and fuck myself real hard in the mind. I'm upset. Believe they could tell. When I'm upset with my performance at work, I keep quiet, do things, and wouldn't smile no matter how hard you try, maybe I would, but it'll look real fake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm petty. Still harping on the issue of asparagus despite it happened like 4-5hours ago at work, and now almost bed time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incidents like this, would not be forgotten. It'll be remembered so I wouldn't make the same mistake again. I'm sorry, I was I fault. I didn't apologised to chef, cos I think there's no point of me apologising since the last thing he would want had already happened. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He trusted me already, yet I let him down. Then again, I need to work harder to regain his faith in me, my work. It's not so easy. I know I have to push myself further. I wasn't in the best performance, I know I could do it better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-573741122039554611?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/573741122039554611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=573741122039554611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/573741122039554611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/573741122039554611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-screwed-up-at-work-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4649337638138676054</id><published>2010-05-20T23:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T23:31:36.928+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My right hand is kind of injured. It hurts. Probably due to improper positioning of my thumb when carrying the 60 litres of water to pour into stockpot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I was mad last night for no reason. I was out of my mind, I know. So I decided, I see him today, I won't talk to him. Normally yes, when I go crazy, I'm this mad. So when I goes into cold kitchen, I didn't give him the eye contact like how i usually would. I didn't talk to him either. But end up, he called my name, and talked to me! But I didn't really bother about him though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;如果有哪么的一点点感觉， 说出来吧。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;爱真的需要勇气。 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;不要说我想太多，他可能会有点动心。我希望入池。&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4649337638138676054?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4649337638138676054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4649337638138676054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4649337638138676054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4649337638138676054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-right-hand-is-kind-of-injured.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2783524757459678513</id><published>2010-05-19T23:06:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T23:24:49.547+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am so not myself today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked questions at work, that can easily piss anyone off. I asked from the start of my work, 'today what day?' , 'today what date?' till when I finish work, I'm still asking the same question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, after lunch, kelvin gave me several things to do. He told me to peel the asparagus after I'm done with the potatoes. Just minutes away, when I'm finished with the potatoes, I asked, what did you told me to do after the potatoes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next incident, I told him that we didn't have enough mushrooms for the mushroom soup for the day after tomorrow's SOD, which means we've got to cook it tomorrow. Then he sliced onions and asked me to wrap and keep it. And I asked so loudly, 'Mushroom soup? When's mushroom soup?' The next moment I saw the way he looked at me, I was like, 'shit, did I just asked when's mushroom soup?'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was seriously not myself at work, body was there, but heart and soul was elsewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner with melody, went raffles city and saw rendy and redza there. Then chat abit. Half way through, redza commented pointing to rendy, 'if chef william see you here with pam ah, he'll say again. Rmb what he says in kitchen?' then they 'laugh'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What exactly happened? I very confused leh, I not downstairs, then suddenly I am being pulled into the picture, yet I know nothing at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what if I have feelings for ernest, I don't deny, but how would they know? Only, sue, melody and peishan knows about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't take it anymore, I sms-ed him. I asked him what's going on at ck, how come suddenly they keep teasing us together. All his replied was was 'don't know'. Easy answer yea? I chose to believe in whatever he said. However, this time wrong, I strongly doubt his words. Maybe yes, it's because the answer he gave wasn't what I was looking for. But if you've all along been downstairs, and they've been teasing so openly about it, why wouldn't you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know they're just teasing. And I'm taking things too tense up and too seriously. I don't know what to do, seriously. Because all I wished, was that whatever they say comes true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you just purely innocent or you just want to keep quiet about it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll wait, till the day you tell me you know something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told papa loy that I failed my interview with ritz. Nothing to be ashamed of though. Everyone's telling me the same thing. Asking to write in, and try again. I've got no strength to go on. Because, I know, I have yet to acquire what I have to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a cook 1 can cook pasta, and runs it under running water? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And and, seriously, people who smokes, stinks. sorry no offence, but i truely think they stinks right after a puff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2783524757459678513?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2783524757459678513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2783524757459678513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2783524757459678513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2783524757459678513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-am-so-not-myself-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-9054337196792103462</id><published>2010-05-18T12:04:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T12:19:48.443+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Seldom a chance that I'm off for two days, and I would stay at home. Usually I'll go out to meet friends, even if it were to be back at workplace. I just dread staying at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what's up with me these two days, I practically camped at home. Only went out once, which was yesterday noon to buy my brunch. And for the two days, all I did at home was to stalk the computer, sleep, and eat. Totally like a pig. Perhaps it was because of me trying to save. And someone gave me an idea of just staying home and not to go and meet friends, hence me locking myself up. I spent less than $10 in this 2 days. :D Good achievement though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be let out of the cage today. I've got to go back to work. The two days was like four days, considering the hours and times I got on and off bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After two days of isolation, mind is still as full. Burden had yet to be unloaded. People have not got back to me with regards to his workplace, I asked him to pull me in. And the thoughts of using the two days to ask him, so that by the time I go back to work, awkwardness would be greatly reduced. Still, I failed to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept saying that I want to go swimming, yesterday and today. Till the end, I didn't make it happen. The weather's like so hot, making me relactant. Furthermore due to my two very slack days, makes me even more lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I can't wait to go back to work though. Because I miss someone already. Bah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh, he should be going on leave soon. Real long leave, approximately 12 days I guess. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking of travelling after attachment, but would I be able to save up enough? It's only like one and a half month away. I've yet to save any. How to travel? I can take loan, but also need pay back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sis was suggesting bintan/batam. I was thinking of Vietnam though. Hongkong/Taiwan/Japan are places that I wouldn't be able to go now... Due to financial support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shall see how things go again then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-9054337196792103462?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/9054337196792103462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=9054337196792103462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/9054337196792103462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/9054337196792103462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/seldom-chance-that-im-off-for-two-days.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1394633438388492900</id><published>2010-05-17T22:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T22:26:49.941+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sheesh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I go to his profile page having the thought of sending him a message, I automatically click back to my homepage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I pick up my phone and goes to the thread of our sms-es, I exit messages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got no courage to ask at all! What's happening to me?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I face problems of such, I would turned to friends and ask them what should I do, what step to take next. But this time round, I tell myself, we're all grown ups, I shouldn't be getting others involved in our problem, or perhaps just my problem. I should solve them myself since it's personal right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got that question in my mind for days and days. But I haven't ask. I daren't ask. I don't know why, I'm afraid I'll be awkward leh. Somemore he haven't come up to main kitchen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's alright, he's coming up soon. Hopefully there'll be more quality time than quantity time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even Saturday when walking to mrt with him and luqman. I didn't talk much, neither did he talk much to me. Much more of the time is just him and luqman chatting. But I enjoyed his pressence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And one thing I've realised about him. He doesn't allow me to look at his credit cards nor receipt. Everytime I tried to look at them, he takes them away. humph. The only card he allowed me to see previously was his IC, student pass, and staff id. -.-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1394633438388492900?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1394633438388492900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1394633438388492900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1394633438388492900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1394633438388492900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/sheesh.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-8476488237843450505</id><published>2010-05-16T22:03:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T22:03:58.541+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Now, I wish for an iPhone too. :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-8476488237843450505?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/8476488237843450505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=8476488237843450505' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8476488237843450505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8476488237843450505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/now-i-wish-for-iphone-too.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-8661692187900122821</id><published>2010-05-16T02:22:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T02:25:34.754+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just wish I could be a 小女人, to be taken care, to be pampered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be that strong girl, with such strong front. &lt;br /&gt;Turn me weak, turn me jellied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish to be surprised and melted with gifts.&lt;br /&gt;Showered with unconditioned love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day of all these things would satisfy me loads.&lt;br /&gt;But if I get such enjoyment for a day, I would expect to have it for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He melts me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-8661692187900122821?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/8661692187900122821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=8661692187900122821' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8661692187900122821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8661692187900122821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-just-wish-i-could-be-to-be-taken-care.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1872636296118733221</id><published>2010-05-15T11:56:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-15T12:13:29.971+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Remember me mentioning about chef william teasing in the previous post?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kinda of getting more awkward now leh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday when we're out for outsid catering, when we're more free, taking rest, Chef W was teasing again. First was only me. Then later on when ernest came in, infront the 2 of us, he teased me and him together. It was like omg. I didn't dare to look at him. Because I felt paiseh. But these teasing didn't stopped him from avoiding me (due to awkwardness) or helping me. We still chat, he still helped me when we close buffet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then when I was helping out at cold kitchen for the sandwich making, chef teased me like crazy again. Even jen also. Suddenly say until what my boyfriend off ah, blah blah blah. I was like, since when I got boyfriend I also don't know. Then later Jen say, who is your boyfriend we all know. I was like 'huh?' Since when sia? Then chef started saying things like, 'ernest 的人不错啦， 只是有点blur，喜欢被我骂而已。' Again, it created another question-mark again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I should have take it easy, but I just can't help it but think of it. There's 2 possibilities though. Only two I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Because I had been giving him things last time, though through melody, but they would still be able to tell. On another hand, I stopped giving him things for a long long time already. If because I give him things, they want say, long time would have said already, wouldn't have wait until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. (Let's take this easy) He likes me as well, and I got no idea what he did downstairs, till suddenly they put me and him together as one. (But like seriously, how much I wish this is true.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there's only 2 cases scenario. So which is the one? I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so like asking him. 'eh, since when I have you as my boyfriend I also don't know?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can someone whack me and let me stop thinking?! Everyday like that ah, I think also think until crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If number 2 is true, all I have to do is wait, till the day he have the courage lor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIGH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1872636296118733221?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1872636296118733221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1872636296118733221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1872636296118733221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1872636296118733221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/remember-me-mentioning-about-chef.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-6439257197089897458</id><published>2010-05-11T22:16:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T22:20:57.017+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I felt abit awkward. I don't know how he felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just now this morning, I went down cold kitchen to get 1 lemon. I asked joshua, joshua asked me to help myself. Then chef william was next to me. He said, 'go ask ernest take give you.' I just kept quiet, walked towards the chiller, then chef william said, 'eh ernest, pamela want lemon, take for her lehs.' I think by then I face red liao, but trying to keep my cool. Then Auntie alice say she has one there and she gave it to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why suddenly Chef William tease me and him sia?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last time before I leave CK he teased me before, but never say until so obvious. Now is totally..... So? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feels something went somewhere. If not, not out of the sudden, he will mention like that one leh. Problem with my side or his? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aiyo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-6439257197089897458?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/6439257197089897458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=6439257197089897458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6439257197089897458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6439257197089897458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-felt-abit-awkward.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7686722253036269477</id><published>2010-05-09T23:25:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T23:26:57.891+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Remember, I don't ever treats you as a spare tyre. &lt;br /&gt;I always thinks of you. Just that I don't know what to talk to you about.&lt;br /&gt;I've trusted you for years, so now I need advice again.&lt;br /&gt;Hence I look up for you.&lt;br /&gt;Hope you don't mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7686722253036269477?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7686722253036269477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7686722253036269477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7686722253036269477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7686722253036269477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/remember-i-dont-ever-treats-you-as.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-704115341648907444</id><published>2010-05-08T23:23:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T23:25:48.340+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You said you yourself ain't sure what kind of girl you like. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what if before you know what kind of girl is your cup of tea, someone comes to you and say, 'I've been having feelings for you for quite a period of time, is it possible between the both of us to be beyond normal friends?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would be your say?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-704115341648907444?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/704115341648907444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=704115341648907444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/704115341648907444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/704115341648907444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/you-said-you-yourself-aint-sure-what.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7960566897252964201</id><published>2010-05-08T23:08:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T23:21:15.010+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It seems like I've been rather angsty/emotional these days. Don't ask me why, but it just happens for reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes these days, I wished to be left alone. Completely alone. Hoping to be coped at home, no one called me, and I just stares at the computer screen, doing nothing, keep refreshing facebook homepage, hoping to see new things happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guess what, I was so into taiwanese dramas when I was much younger. Till now, I suppose I hate it to the core. Probably too much of it when I was young, and I always think that falling in love is just like how it's situated in the drama. I simply stereotyped the whole scenario from the drama. But now, realizing that drama would always just be drama. I dislike dramas now. Because scenes, things said, actions done, would never come to reality. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People around me, getting attached. Found their soulmates. But me, yes, I'm still young, more chances to come. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't help but still admire this 'korkor' of mine. I still finds him attractive. And I like it when we could bicker. Somemore he winked at me twice today, my heart skipped a beat. He's just so likeable. But the fact that he _____ with my friend before, gives me a bearer to get closer to him. Of which, he gives me the mindset that he's a wolf under it's fur. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Supposely I'm crazy, I can be admiring so many people now. Even I'm not sure if the person I like is him. Because, I think I'm just so obsessive wanting a boyfriend, I like whoever I see. Sounds despo. And I can't believe I admire someone who just got married!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, again. Admire does not equals to love/like. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this young guy at work. He's cute. haha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why issit that everytime we go dining, when we're in three. I'll be sitting next to the guy one? As in me, one more girl and the guy (the young guy at work and ernest). I'm always sitting next to them. Not opposite lehs. Why? Any meaning to it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7960566897252964201?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7960566897252964201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7960566897252964201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7960566897252964201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7960566897252964201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/it-seems-like-ive-been-rather.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4596937514784502112</id><published>2010-05-07T23:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T00:14:43.327+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've never met someone with such similarities before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I met one now. Which I think he could probably likely to understands me for who I am. However, there are sayings that similarities repel and differences attracts. So I believe, we two are of similar kinds, hence not much of a 'future' we might have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, we both came from a single parented family. However, for his family, he's still in contact with his dad, and do goes over his dad's place for sleepover from time to time. Just found out that he's in the same dialect group as me! Sadly, he doesn't speaks nor understands. Worst than me, at least if I want to, I still can speak and understand, if not hokkien I also not bad. Haha! There isn't a need to say, we share the same surname, we're in the same field of career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after a few times of dining out with him and other friends, I think that he is sweet tooth. Sweet things, confirm can eat one. Especially things like Ice-creams, fondue, sweets, jelly, etc. Very very similar lor! I also say ok to cold sweet desserts even if I'm full ttm. I can't remember when was the last time I rejected cold desserts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now with my new habit of munching before bedtime. It's like a 'sure' routine that I would feel hungry or mouth itchy before I sleep. Btw, although I munch everyday, I still lose weight okay! That day he mentioned too, he also need to bite things before bedtime de. So yea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He does sports. I do too. But now very seldom. But the only sports I do would be swimming and cycling only. But all no stamina already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure, there are many things we can do together. However, I choose to believe: Like poles repel and different poles attract. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let God do the job. I shall just be a good girl and stay where I am. Because, I believe God would send him to me, and I need not find. *Not really religious, but ya...*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-blogging via mobile&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4596937514784502112?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4596937514784502112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4596937514784502112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4596937514784502112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4596937514784502112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/ive-never-met-someone-with-such.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-3011478778683777736</id><published>2010-05-06T22:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T22:54:30.662+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>我遇见贵人了吗？&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我一个人找工作， 好像全世界在找工。&lt;br /&gt;今天，当Papa Loy知道说我要去 Ritz-Carlton 面试的时候。&lt;br /&gt;他立刻拿起手机。打给了 Ritz Carlton 的厨师。&lt;br /&gt;跟他说， “这女孩很好，一定要拿她。给她一个高点的职位。”&lt;br /&gt;上一星期 Chef Frankie 也有打给他。&lt;br /&gt;我很感激这些想把我“买”出去的人。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;可是，我会有压力。&lt;br /&gt;他们一个两个，把我说的那么好。&lt;br /&gt;但，我没有哪么伟大啦！&lt;br /&gt;可能我会是好，也比别人好一点点而已。&lt;br /&gt;我还是会有我的缺点。&lt;br /&gt;那如果我真的成功进了，我做不到他们所说的，哪这么办呢？&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我对自己不够信心吗？&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我也真的愚见贵人了。我很感激。&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-3011478778683777736?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/3011478778683777736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=3011478778683777736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3011478778683777736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3011478778683777736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/papa-loy-ritz-carlton-ritz-carlton-chef.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7028952976655592205</id><published>2010-05-01T21:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T21:22:08.958+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>我累了。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;工作，爱情。 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我不知如何这么办好。为什么好像事事不顺。感觉好焖啊！&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;心好烦！&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7028952976655592205?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7028952976655592205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7028952976655592205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7028952976655592205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7028952976655592205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-598486747018843345</id><published>2010-04-28T23:01:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T23:20:23.647+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Heart's feeling a little heavy. In an hour time, it's someone's birthday. Oh well, I've gotten over, but just what's making my heart feel heavy? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18 years old, 19 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entering the next phase of life I guess. This 2 years, thoughts of giving up my career life keeps churning in my mind. Kept having thoughts of getting just a job and not a career. Then sometime soon, just find a man and settle down and be a homemaker. Now, I envy homemakers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or perhaps, climbing up for a career is not easy, as for what I see for myself in the workforce now. I'm in the box now, experiencing everything in it. No longer viewing what's going on in the box. Life's different. Things are different now, hence the quote, saying is easier than action. Totally agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I have the thoughts of giving up this career I'm heading towards. But I wouldn't, my determination tells me so. I believe I can have both a career and a family, that's when I've learnt how to organise. Let me climb in my career. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though now is like not I choosing guy, but more like guys to choose me and that I've got no choice. However, even if the whole forest catches fire, leaving only one tree, I could still live without it. I could have my choice too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My guy have to accept me for who I am. Respect me for my career mind. I would give in at times when there's a need to, to maintain the relationship. But if I would to be busy and have to time off, he needs to understand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy who's in the same line as me would understand? I doubt that my soulmate would be in the same nature of work as me. Simple reason behind, I'm always strong in my stand, and many other chefs would be. So how do we go about with a rock banging on a rock? And I'm that kind of person, when comes to work, I'm quite domineering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want a guy, whom I can take care, and he could also care for me. In other words, he needs to be my pillar in life. He needs to be one. Because, he'll be the one I rely on, to motivate myself to work, to move on in life, to have hopes and faith in life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Insearch of my pillar in life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-598486747018843345?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/598486747018843345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=598486747018843345' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/598486747018843345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/598486747018843345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/04/hearts-feeling-little-heavy.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1885266750796531064</id><published>2010-04-28T22:39:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T22:41:49.764+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Otaku</title><content type='html'>Otaku = 宅男&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got no idea, but to what I realised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guys I like/ I've liked, are otaku.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think 'otaku' sounds rather cute to me lehs. It derives from a japanese word or something like that. But sure it sounds cute to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm in love with an otaku?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1885266750796531064?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1885266750796531064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1885266750796531064' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1885266750796531064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1885266750796531064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/04/otaku.html' title='Otaku'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2336441261278891786</id><published>2010-04-26T23:29:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T23:44:12.162+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I miss those times we had.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed every single moments we had.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed being taken care of.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed being treated like a girl.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed seeing you getting irritated.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed being able to see you so closely.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed being sent home, though it seems forced.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed taking train and offered sweets- but I turned down sweets.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed looking silly take 2 1L bottle and goes into the canteen to fill with coke.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed grumbling to you.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed asking you out.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed chatting with you.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed sitting next/opposite you during meal.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed seeing you eating your fill.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed looking at your sleepy face.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed when you uses the word 'we'.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed when you message me automatically.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed the morning smiles with a sleepy look on your face.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed being greeted by you in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed being questioned with questions that showed you cared.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed all the smses that I had bothered you with.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed every single moment I spent with you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when would I have the courage to say &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;'I Love You'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2336441261278891786?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2336441261278891786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2336441261278891786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2336441261278891786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2336441261278891786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-miss-those-times-we-had.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7222484750445942460</id><published>2010-04-26T01:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T01:26:34.830+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Nothing to do, hence, update my blog alittle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday planned to go kino for some book reading. However, I ended late, and suddenly alot people met up. Kino cancelled, went for dinner. The rest went home. Trained to amk with danny, ernest and melody. Went Kbox with melody and her friend. Didn't go home that night. Slept over at Mel's place. Woke up at 9+ in the morning. Was fucking tired I swear. Went over to amkhub to buy somethings, and came home to bake cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sat, Dinner at Oscar's to celebrate sis's belated birthday. After that supposedly to go clubbing/ pubbing. End up, he said he's tired, ask me if there's chance for another time. Definately there will be, but I'm just tired of asking. Cock ups here and there, and no more drinking sessions that night. So end up, head to amkhub for movies with sis. Watched Ice-Kachang Puppy Love. Amkhub was like a maze that night, had difficulties making our way up to the cinema.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Came home at 3+ in the morning. Slept all the way till 2+pm this noon. Then I spent almost the whole day sleeping. Went out for dinner, back home to do some of my things. And here I am blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wants to be the fighting fish. I wants to be strong, to protect you. I'm afraid of you getting hurt. I wants to be the one who can makes you happy. I want to be the one you turned to when you face problems. I'll not miss that chance to tell you I like you. Even if we can't be together, I just wants you to know, at least there'll be this someone, who liked and loved you once, and truely cared from the bottom of my heart.&lt;/em&gt; And all I need is &lt;em&gt;'Courage'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ijustwannaloveyouopenlyforonce, andwantsyoutolovemeonce.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7222484750445942460?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7222484750445942460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7222484750445942460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7222484750445942460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7222484750445942460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/04/nothing-to-do-hence-update-my-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1513212290403027887</id><published>2010-04-19T11:07:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T11:16:27.891+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know where I should head to. It's a crossroad that I'm meeting this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a few choices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I stay in Conrad, request for cold kitchen. Learn everything there, the functions etc. Then at least I have a base of cold kitchen that I can do things fast and accurate. Although Conrad's cold kitchen is nothing, but least of all, they still involves salads right? Then make use of this one year WDA as a stepping stone. after a year or so, I'll find another place for a position in garde manger. Not sure if I'm kinda of wasting time in conrad's garde manger, 'cos here the ck, also abit cannot make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I find another hotel's garde manger and apply for a cook 3. The reason is, because I don't have much experience in cold kitchen, it was barely that 3 months. And I won't be eligible to be a cook 2 in garde manger. Although I have the basics of culinary, but not in the field of garde manger, there more for me to learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I go join my ex-colleague at MOF production kitchen. I use that as a chance to see and learn. But if I were to be there, I won't go in that line of production. Because I know, ultimately I wants to be in garde manger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how? I don't know which one to go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1513212290403027887?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1513212290403027887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1513212290403027887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1513212290403027887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1513212290403027887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-dont-know-where-i-should-head-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-6201383471589282281</id><published>2010-04-18T22:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T22:55:55.529+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What's the problem that lies within?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I been too tired or what? Why last time I work long hours in cold kitchen, I forever can go on and on. But no longer that stamina when I'm up at main kitchen. Why is that so? Could it be the environment that main kitchen is hot and cold kitchen is cold, hence the saving of energy in cold kitchen is more? I got no idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And due to my tiredness last night, I had a very good dream this morning. It is always the case that I don't get to sleep more, I have good dreams. When I get to sleep in, I don't have wonderful dreams. Or perhaps, I was just desperate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamt that I was brought to this frog (tian ji) farm by this guy - who's my bf in the dream. I didn't know where he was bringing me to. Till I entered a cage-like place, big one, maybe like bird park. There where those ugly disguisting frogs jumping all around. Some where jumping near my legs, some attempted to jump on my back. *by then, my handphone alarms are ringing like crazy* I flew up at my bf in the dream. I was dead mad, because people would know how much I detest those frog. I don't even eat frog leg, despite the fact that I've tried them and they were good. But I just don't eat. Then we where out of that place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were in this convinent store that looks like 7-11. He told me he wanted to eat something, trying to 'sa jiao' to me, because he wants me to eat together with him or something like that. So I bought it. As usual, after pay money, we choose the smaller piece (I always do that in real life), he fought with me, but he still got it. In the dream, I saw him kissing my forehead. Heard him saying 'ily'. Felt his body, held his hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then when we finish eating going wait for cab. I saw ernest with a guy and a girl. The girl got into a cab alone. Then he and his friend continued to walk down the road. Then while me and the guy, was gonna kiss, I woke up with my phone ringing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This guy has almost the same height as me. Maybe slightly taller. Medium in built, not say skinny, got abit muscles one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to life. Everytime I dream of a bf in my dreams, I'll nv be able to see his face. But only able to hear and feel him. Hear someone speaks, but no idea who is it, and the voice can't be regconised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm just too desperate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to tell myself that I don't need a man to live. I don't want to get married. I just have to love myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, I yearned to be loved. A man for my to rely on. I want to have a family. I want to love my husband and my kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's growing up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-6201383471589282281?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/6201383471589282281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=6201383471589282281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6201383471589282281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6201383471589282281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/04/whats-problem-that-lies-within-have-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-8677139796447262897</id><published>2010-04-13T23:57:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T00:12:54.581+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Life's as usual. I'm out of spice room already. Attached to western section. So far so good, but I'm kinda lost. Because kitchen past 2 days was quite upside down, due to the spanish promo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learnt something new today. Because I stayed and the chef was doing mise en place. I went to kpo, see him do. Then before leaving the hotel, went oscar's to kpo again. See them do the things. Then chef Ferando let us try the products. They were great! Apparently they're almost all cold items, hence i like them. Lol. But intresting la. If I never go kpo, go try, I'll never know that molecular gastronomic exsist!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm starting to feel paranoid somehow. I asked him for macs breakfast this morning last night. He rejected, he said he was tired wanting to sleep in. But when I reached home, 11+ 12, he was still online! Fine, I believe his words. This morning see me, still greet me good morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I start to dislike people telling me that he leaves with jennifer. It's because they're working so closely, they're always together. And even breakfast, they work 7-11 for few days, he still join her for breakfast! End work, I can never get hold of him. However, they're always together after their work. I understand that they're just like sister and brother. But why is there the sourness in me? I feels really sour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just know, I'm beginning to turn paranoid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's time to get over. Every man out there, is just a dream. They'll never come true. I just don't have the life, to be loved for once, by a man. There's no man in my life. Even brother and dad are gone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Born not to love, born not to be loved - by man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-8677139796447262897?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/8677139796447262897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=8677139796447262897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8677139796447262897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8677139796447262897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/04/lifes-as-usual.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1185317093651312176</id><published>2010-04-13T00:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T00:11:24.978+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I know it's all a lie, however, I chose to believe - you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't push me away. If there's a need, let me know the reason. I'm having a hard time all over again. But it's just me, me and only me. My problems would never involve others. It would only be me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1185317093651312176?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1185317093651312176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1185317093651312176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1185317093651312176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1185317093651312176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-know-its-all-lie-however-i-chose-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-3671745764221875255</id><published>2010-04-09T22:46:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T23:00:32.706+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Work haven't been good these days. Working with someone that totally annoys me. So I seems to be slower, not responsive, not enthusiatic in work this few days. I can't be bothered when working with her. Like seriously. Because she thinks she's a chef, when she's just a cook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This 2 days, I haven't been sms-ing ernest. I'll take a break and give him a break from the almost everyday sms, for the past weeks. I tried to take steps back. Because I'm tired already. I tries to treat him like invisible at workplace. Unless there's a need for me to talk to him, or else I wouldn't talk to him. But this 2 days, even I never talk to him, I walk in cold kitchen nia, he'll look at me and smile. I ignore him though. Then he'll come talk to me. Surprisingly. Because I left in a hurry with zin muang from trainee's meeting, got things to be busy with. Then he talked at the corridoor, so loudly, 'go back already ah? so fast?'. For the first time, I hear him talk to me so loudly in the presence of others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I super miss chatting with him sia. Really, only 2 days though. But I wonder if he realised something went wrong or anything. It's useless for me to go to this extent though. But this action would just proof somethings to me. However, it might not be all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time would proof it all. Because now, no matter how minor the things he do, I will be like 'wow' kind of thing. So totally blinded. I can't feel the right feeling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-3671745764221875255?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/3671745764221875255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=3671745764221875255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3671745764221875255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3671745764221875255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/04/work-havent-been-good-these-days.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-102704615529701089</id><published>2010-04-03T19:13:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-03T19:17:14.172+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Too late</title><content type='html'>I feel like having my blog public once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I think it's just too late for it. As I've so many post, for the past few years. I've openly typed in names. Might even be talking about good friends around me now. It's ugly to have it public and if they were to casually passed by and read them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another way is to edit all my post to have their names *, but it's so troublesome! I have 300 over 400 posts. How to? I don't have that much of time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet another way is to let this blog rest in peace and set a whole new one. But hello, then what is the point of it? Since blog is a personal internet journal to let me keep my memories. Then my memories are like cut from one paragragh to another, which make things totally no meaning to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just too late to have it public again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-102704615529701089?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/102704615529701089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=102704615529701089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/102704615529701089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/102704615529701089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/04/too-late.html' title='Too late'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7276395941201659197</id><published>2010-04-02T22:30:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T23:06:01.694+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It has been so so long since I had the mood to do a proper update. All updates were rather random, or when I needed something off my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, yet another month had passed. It's so fast, that it seems as though I hadn't had the chance to capture any of the moments in march and it's gone already! How can time pass so fast? Very soon, another 13 weeks, and I'm graduating! Very fast right?! It's like seeing the light at the end of a year long tunnel. I'm glad I'm seeing that spark, I'm getting close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In another blink of eyes, I would be out, to see the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much things went on during my internship. My friends are drifting away from me, because I've got no time for meet-ups. As well as gaining some real good friends from work. That's my network. It's broadening. Next time how? How to get so much time for so many people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, time would says it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been saying I want to be a good girl. I want to quit drinking, quit clubbing. Though I had not been a rather regular clubber. Everytime I go, is socially. This time I can't reject, I've tried, but yet I've got no reason to reject. Because I owe them the favor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've not been home for dinner. My mum nagged at me, ask me why not come home for dinner, then save money. Don't have to keep complaining no money. This month I spend really alot. I eat on my own expenses this month. I buy my own toiletries. I top-up my own ez-link card. I shop with my own money too. What's there else for me to save?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's simple for me to save. I can just come home after work for dinner. Then I need not pay a single cent for that meal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who seen the effort I've put in? Cooked at home, but once dinner is over, one goes out, one goes to sleep. I'm left to face the computer, the stupid television and the four bloody white walls. What for? What's the point of me coming back to a house and not a home. The lost of personal touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to see my family being screwed up. It might be by me this time. I've put in effort, it's not working. I give up. I don't want to be a good girl anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rather go out, and find someone who can love me for who I am, even with my rebellious character, my stubborn personality. Love me, or leave me. I can no longer be bothered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work, family said. For the sake of the people like wanying, though I only have 3 people allowed into my blog. Here it's what all it came about with the guy, Ernest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't like this guy at all when he first worked with me, because he is simpily new. He didn't know his basics, teach yet couldn't get it. He pissed me off, during my busy time. I can screw him in the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, during my last week in cold kitchen, I worked real close with him. Because I have to do a proper handover. And then, because of some stupid function we had to run it together. So we got kind of close. Work together, go lunch together, work together, dinner together, chit chat as we work, take breaks, go punch casual labour together. Brings 2 big 1litre bottles into canteen and filled it up with coke together. Just one week. I got so used to doing all this things, speaking nonsense, disturbing him. Then off I went up to main kitchen already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then starts to contact him through sms. He helped me buy thing, but don't want take money from me, despite how much i tried to push to him. (YY pushed the money and insist him in taking, he took. however much I tried to push, he refuses.) Then I buy coffee for him lor. Then got once, I worked afternoon, he ended same time as me. He's tired then he waited for me at smoking area say ask me lobang his cab back. I know he's tired, so I bluffed him go back on his own. Then he walked me go opposite then he came back to take cab again. -.-'''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few times went out dinner/supper with the presence of others. Once took cab with him and YY. YY go home first then my place then he's the last. The next time was only me and him. How sweet, he remembered that my place that route, needs to make a U-turn. I'm surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then do stupid things like sending gifts through fb restaurant city. He gave me roses in RC. Well, although it's just an exchange of gifts, but out of a million things in RC, he gave me roses! Small things as such make me crazy. I'm naiive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I doubt my friends would ever sees me treating a guy like any of my close friends. such as when he sick, buy liang teh. When I cook, I share. I wait for someone just to take train with me. I randomly text, and disturb. I do all these with my close friends. But never done it to a guy. He's the first who can make me so comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what would happen in the near future, if the flower bears any fruits. Let nature takes it's course. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't really matter. Not bad afterall if I can have such a guy friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's a nice guy la. He also don't seems to be like running away from me or whatsoever. So, yea. Still okay. I sounds as though I'm crazily in love. The way I talk and describe. When I describe and talks about it, I sound like a crazy fellow. But trust me la, I don't dare go into it too much too. See, after 6 years, I get those shits. You think I still dare to go that far. No way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long Long update that I should have long blogged about. It covers everything from past few months. For those I never mention much, was because I'm working. No one would wanna hear me grumble about work as well. Now I'm busy learning inddian cuisine. My chef tomorrow last day already! SAD! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm a vixen lehs. Last time CCA groups, whichever I join, closes down. Now wherever I go, the chef leaves. That time cold kitchen, bernard leave, now indian chef. HAIYO! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the 3 readers on my blog. If you have another connection of people who works in kitchen and know if they've got lobang for garde manger in a good hotel, intro me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanna find a job to start in August/ September.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all! I need to go sleep. Working 7am tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7276395941201659197?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7276395941201659197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7276395941201659197' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7276395941201659197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7276395941201659197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/04/it-has-been-so-so-long-since-i-had-mood.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-3037316739921941081</id><published>2010-03-31T22:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T22:17:38.136+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is real bad. I swear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know my feelings now for ernest. Fine with it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But why why, still. When I meet hiccups and I'm not feeling good, I still miss clarence?! Feeling not so good, went to his facebook. I miss chatting with him so so much out of the sudden. Like, when I'm bored or what, definately will be chatting with him de. But now? I just rot infront of facebook. No more topics with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I MISS MY FRIEND! :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-3037316739921941081?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/3037316739921941081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=3037316739921941081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3037316739921941081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3037316739921941081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/03/this-is-real-bad.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7637551659940053552</id><published>2010-03-20T00:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T00:29:52.694+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>过了一个星期，前后走了几遍。&lt;br /&gt;我开始累了。我不想再主动。&lt;br /&gt;觉得好累好累，你能让我休息一下下吗？&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;林家毅，主动点好不好？不要再退后了！&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;有‘算了’的感觉。&lt;br /&gt;日子好难过喔。&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7637551659940053552?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7637551659940053552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7637551659940053552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7637551659940053552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7637551659940053552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post_20.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2399087137712946632</id><published>2010-03-19T00:02:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T00:52:22.805+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>我不知道要这么说才对。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;你发生了什么事。为什么感觉好像，你走了一步，我前进一步，你就退一步。我退一步，你前进一步。我再次前进，你又再退后。你在搞什么啊？！ 让我感到好软喔！&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;要就要，不要就干脆不要前进，不要让我有哪么一点点地希望。希望时常都会成为失望。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;林家毅呀！ 你把我弄得团团转，我好晕，头好同啊。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-如果有一天，我不在了，你的感觉如何？&lt;br /&gt;-我要走了，你有什么话要对我说？&lt;br /&gt;-你喜欢宠物吗？&lt;br /&gt;-你喜欢什么类型的女生？&lt;br /&gt;-会不会有机会当个比普通朋友再多点的朋友呢？&lt;br /&gt;-在你眼里，我是个镇杨的女生？&lt;br /&gt;-你有过几个女朋友？&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;家毅呀！&lt;br /&gt;你这个样子，真叫我如何是好。&lt;br /&gt;伤脑精啊！&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2399087137712946632?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2399087137712946632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2399087137712946632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2399087137712946632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2399087137712946632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post_19.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4042246224671991317</id><published>2010-03-17T23:35:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T23:42:50.251+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>For the first time, I did something so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about for quite sometime, wanted to get him herbal tea, cos I know he is real tired. End up, that 2 days I off, never buy. Yesterday went to find, that 7-11 never sell. Today went cheers to buy, carry all the way until workplace. Asked melody to pass it to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if he drank. But the can was open, don't know if he finished. Whatever it is, I buy give him, it's his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought he didn't know who gave it to him. Because he see me also never mention anything about it. Then I sms him lor, ask him if he know who gave it to him. Then he thank me. I'm not asking for a thankyou. Just truely wish he knows that I care. Told him to take care, he thanks me again, and said 'you too'. It's all courtesy, I can tell. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But one thing, I felt really good about was, even he know, at work also won't like paiseh paiseh, after work, walk side by side also like not paiseh, still chit chat. He doesn't avoid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to disturb him, cos he looks cute when he is 'irritated'. HAHA! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things work out? I don't know. See him already. hehe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4042246224671991317?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4042246224671991317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4042246224671991317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4042246224671991317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4042246224671991317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/03/for-first-time-i-did-something-so.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-9110378535901384570</id><published>2010-03-15T11:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T11:39:59.664+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I find myself real useless.&lt;br /&gt;Not a single time, when I can get hold of myself and be strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I fall for someone, very soon, I'll fall so deeply till it seems obsessive. And make every single effort, trying for hard, to get close to him. Yes, I'm previously hurt. Not now. This time round is kind of a happy one, still in good terms. However, I think I wasn't confident enough, kept asking melody for help. Till he abit didn't quite like it. I realise he doesn't answer my questions whenever I mention about melody. Okay, I won't involve melody in between us anymore. To what I realised through all the thoughts I had these few days, no one is hurting me. Is just that I'm too harsh on myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When's the next time we can go out together again? I like to have you around though. The smile that you always put on your face, never fails to chase away my moody feelings. Your blushed face, makes me wanna smile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels like I'm going abit over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the first guy, who offered to send me home, yet I rejected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I rejected, thus you could have more time to rest. I regretted, becasue I don't know when you'll offer again. :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-9110378535901384570?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/9110378535901384570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=9110378535901384570' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/9110378535901384570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/9110378535901384570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-find-myself-real-useless.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2182115610415698428</id><published>2010-03-14T22:44:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T23:41:33.261+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>才一天不见，我有点想念你的存在。&lt;br /&gt;我会不会太粘你了？&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;小弟弟！&lt;br /&gt;虽然你比我大，但我喜欢叫你小弟弟。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;感觉已确认了。可是我不知道该这么做。&lt;br /&gt;应为我也没谈过恋爱，我不知道如何去关爱一个人。&lt;br /&gt;小弟弟， 我希望你能主动。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reegreted. Not letting you send me back the other day.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know when I'll get the next chance. :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2182115610415698428?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2182115610415698428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2182115610415698428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2182115610415698428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2182115610415698428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post_14.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4981644809754108795</id><published>2010-03-14T07:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T07:11:09.772+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've got many many random questions up in my head.&lt;br /&gt;I wished to ask, but I doubt I dare to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And maybe it might not be time yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-What is the food/drink you dislike most?&lt;br /&gt;-Have you dated any girls before? &lt;br /&gt;-If ever one day, I take my leave, what would you say to me?&lt;br /&gt;-Who am I to you? Just friends or chances of being more than a friend.&lt;br /&gt;-What was your immediate feeling/thought when that cup of coffee reaches your hand?&lt;br /&gt;-What kind of a girl am I to you?&lt;br /&gt;-What type of girls do you like?&lt;br /&gt;-Why do I find you blushing at times.&lt;br /&gt;-How can I get to know you better?&lt;br /&gt;-Do you find me irritating/annoying cos of all the sms-es?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's far more in my brain. I'm tired to think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll now sms him today, it's my off day. Shall see if he sms. Obviously, I hope he does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4981644809754108795?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4981644809754108795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4981644809754108795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4981644809754108795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4981644809754108795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/03/ive-got-many-many-random-questions-up.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-5424605702433518760</id><published>2010-03-12T23:43:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T23:59:16.002+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Left cold kitchen less than a week. Had been working from morning to night, almost everyday for the past 4 months. think only seen 1 month's sun out of the 4 months. haha. I know I had been working from morning to night. And I always kena from morning 5am or 6am shift then i work till 9+ 10. I know i was tired then, but i just felt restless, I didn't care much about my health, instead i neglected it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, perhaps due to special feelings. He had been working from morning 6am till 10+ just now. Tomorrow again working 6am, sounds familiar. But I felt heartpain though. Like wth, how can someone work so long hours. I didn't I thought of that when I was the victim?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel kind of guilty. He offered me to longbang his cab back home. He wanted to send me home. He waited for me at smoking area despite the fact that I already told him I will bus home myself. I told him that expressway can straightaway go woodlands, don't mafan drop me at amk. I know la, quite on the way la, just a short turn about. But I don't want him to send me back, he already so tired, somemore tomorrow work 6am. Somemore he haven't bathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aiyo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today buy coffee for him. Because he helped me buy the knife guard, don't want to collect money from me. So bought him coffee. I paiseh to pass him ah, so I asked melody to pass him. I ask her just give him, don't need say anything one, he will know. Then sms him just now, ask him if anyone ask him who buy. Because joshua kpo one. Everytime others got coffee, he don't have. He told me lor, they did ask, but he nv say. haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm... I do notice that he blushes as and when. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hehe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-5424605702433518760?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/5424605702433518760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=5424605702433518760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5424605702433518760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5424605702433518760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/03/sigh.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2201628855496608987</id><published>2010-03-08T22:25:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T22:27:42.568+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>我好像喜欢上一个人了。&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2201628855496608987?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2201628855496608987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2201628855496608987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2201628855496608987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2201628855496608987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-3770454081375566772</id><published>2010-02-25T22:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T22:19:36.652+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something is going so wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the point of time, when people jokingly tell me tell he likes me, I just take it for laughters. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But nowadays, I can feel something coming from his side. The way he talks to me online. &lt;br /&gt;And even today when I'm back at work, when he rant to me about work, it all feels different. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He even asked me what time I would leave, then he left first, then when I was having dinner in the canteen, he came to look for me, just to take a sit and talked for awhile. Then he wanted to ask me to walk to mrt together with him. But I take bus one lehs. I&amp;nbsp;also can take train la, just that I'm lazy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came back, I'm all shocked. He took so much notice of my eyes - tired eyes, peeling nose - from the trip i think, and even the pimple next to my nose due to irregular sleeping hours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kind of couselling him, because he thinks that he had been put on the spot at work. Unable to figure out how he can improve for the better. Why chef kind of dislike him. I can't possibily tells him everything, he needs to see by himself. It's a case to case basis. Then he tells me like he feels like a child infront of me, although he's older than me. I just told him, because I come from a slightly different childhood. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He started telling me things like he likes to talk to me, he feels very comfortable talking to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These words sounds so familar, just like years back, what I've told someone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If my prediction is real, I'm kind of unable to open up to him. Because, my heart have got no soul now. I've yet to find it back. &lt;br /&gt;Till date, my feelings still there, just ain't that deep anymore. I just don't know how to open up to other guys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-3770454081375566772?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/3770454081375566772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=3770454081375566772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3770454081375566772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3770454081375566772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/02/something-is-going-so-wrong.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-5662664349225442273</id><published>2010-01-24T21:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T21:12:22.684+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Should I delete this blog or not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's filled with too much memories, I don't know weather to consider it as good ones or bad ones. However, I deleted my livejournal already, because there's too much memories, after reading through, it feels rather painful. I haven't read the archives of this blog, but I know it's gonna be alot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, should keep this blog?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-5662664349225442273?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/5662664349225442273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=5662664349225442273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5662664349225442273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5662664349225442273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/01/should-i-delete-this-blog-or-not-its.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2312367700244322783</id><published>2010-01-17T14:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T14:09:06.064+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'd like to have another chance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2312367700244322783?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2312367700244322783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2312367700244322783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2312367700244322783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2312367700244322783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/01/id-like-to-have-another-chance.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-3089595888453911853</id><published>2010-01-10T23:06:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T23:18:20.622+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where are you, my friend?</title><content type='html'>Sigh. I'm still getting emotional as and when.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems to be like I've lost a friend, a pair of listening ears. Someone who had been out there for me, for years, seems to have vanished into thin air after my confession. Confession seems to be a high price to pay huh, paying a friendship for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day at work, something happened again. I knew I almost broke down, because I was really harsh on myself for that silly mistake. I knew I need someone to talked to, he was the first person I could have thought of. I texted him, waiting for a reply that could at least turned into a little comfort for me, to keep me moving. It was all disappointment again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even these days, I see him online, I appear online, he doesn't chat with me anymore. Not even when it's late night at 2am, when he'll usually be less busy. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really miss those late night long chats. I miss pouring all my emotions on him. He's always there when I face problems- except BGR. But that day, I just needed to talk to him. Why it seems so tough. I wasn't trying to be sticky to him. I just want a close friend I can contact as and when. Wether I'm in trouble or not, he'll be there. I'm trying to look at him as such a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it seems as though I lost such a friend. When it comes to him, I feel empty. Real empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where have my friend gone to? I miss him so much. :'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know, I'm still not okay at all. He's still on my mind, all I wanted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-3089595888453911853?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/3089595888453911853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=3089595888453911853' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3089595888453911853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3089595888453911853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/01/where-are-you-my-friend.html' title='Where are you, my friend?'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4444375108697460822</id><published>2010-01-02T20:43:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T21:02:23.979+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2009 / 2010</title><content type='html'>I supposed to have plans to go clubbing/ countdown on the eve. But ended up working, hence plan cancelled, as I don't know what time I'll end. Then big present came, I very sian 1/2 want to come home. Was feeling very uncomfortable. So didn't wait for collegues to go for supper. Tried calling so many people to come out, for meet up, but unfortunately, it's a hard-to-get-people date, I was too late. Came home instead. Reached home exactly at 12am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I was kind of emo that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, got rejected. Then new year's eve want to go countdown, end up cancelled. Then the guy I sort of 'like' at work, one of the collegue i quite close with, fell for him. Omg, is like 2 friends having crush on the same guy. Then she was out with him that day. Then she messaged me some funny sms, saying what things like, 'I think I start to like you', 'thanks for the company', 'sorry to make you drunk'. They went drinking, he went to find her after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like, I know it was just a crush, and this close friend of mine doesn't know. And the people who knows right, thinks that I just play play only, because they know I have someone in mind. Then this friend of mine, explained to me, how he end up with her, blah blah blah. WHY EXPLAIN TO ME?! I RATHER NOT KNOW! Eddie's just a crush/substitute to keep my mind at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I got rejected. I told myself to move on. I'm still talking to him. I feel awkard, trying nt to. But you know something, the feeling's still there. I still like him lehs. Why can't I get over him? Tried to focus on work instead. But still my mind filled with him. Tried to think of eddie even more than him okay, but it still didn't work. It went one big round, and back to him again. I wished my heart is dead, so I wouldn't have to be bothered. I tried stopping my mind to think over, but then it's like my heart keep telling me to wait wait. Sigh, I'm bullshitting again. Love is something that I'll never understand. Because I never had one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, today marks the first mistake I did in 2010. I almost burnt down the whole cold kitchen. Thank god, I stop the fire too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End up update. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;什么时候I will be fine?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4444375108697460822?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4444375108697460822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4444375108697460822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4444375108697460822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4444375108697460822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2010/01/2009-2010.html' title='2009 / 2010'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-6170207068278280224</id><published>2009-12-29T21:48:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T21:53:40.936+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a really weird dream this morning. Yes, early in the morning I get such stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dream goes like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a cab, to somewhere, it looks like my house here the carpark, or last time my grandma place there the carpark. Then I meet my 'gf' who came down from the 4th floor. I chit chat with her at the carpark. We sat down at the carpark lot, next to a car, on the floor. Then after chit chat, out of the sudden, we got intimate. In the dream, I started off kissing her by her cheeks, later on, I went to her lips. She responded to, didn't reject. Then suddenly she said she have to go home. So I said okay, she went up, I looked at her go home from the carpark. Then I left, went to take cab. Then I met 2 ACS(I) interactors -whom I got to know last time through trips and events, by the road side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my dream ended just like this. Liting said it's time for me to get a boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;It sounds quite gross.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-6170207068278280224?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/6170207068278280224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=6170207068278280224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6170207068278280224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6170207068278280224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-had-really-weird-dream-this-morning.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-6888724420977476226</id><published>2009-12-26T19:44:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T19:49:57.582+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reason</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;You know that I want to move on. You know I want to end this torment.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But yet, why make things worst.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why do you have to say words that would keep me waiting.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;How can I move on with those words of yours.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Telling me that hopefully you can send my 21st birthday present back to sg for me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Telling me that you're looking forward to my cooking one day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You gave me another reason to be waiting.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You gave me another reason wanting to cook for the man I love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why do you have to do this to me?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now that you know my feelings towards you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sigh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Please tell me when you flying off Singapore. I'll cook for you the night before. And I send you off.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It seems like telling doesn't seems to help at all. :'(&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-6888724420977476226?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/6888724420977476226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=6888724420977476226' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6888724420977476226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6888724420977476226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/12/reason.html' title='Reason'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-6911439254746613296</id><published>2009-12-19T23:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T23:26:10.648+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I know I'll be fine.</title><content type='html'>Everything has come to an end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The single-sided love story, ended, with no happy ending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mailed him yesterday. Told him everything. It was rather random. But I seriously spoke my heart out. When I came home just now, I decided to give him a chance, so I unblocked him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes, he told me he was busy blah blah blah. Which I know - don't ask me how I know, but from the way his facebook the time he's online can tell he's busy with work. Then he's blessed to have me as a friend etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew things would have turned out this way. I didn't break down, perhaps I would later. My heart hurts real bad now. But I'm still holding on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to avoid the awkwardness, because he's trying to chat, but I'm rather quiet than normal. So I end up grumbling about work. At least something I can talk about. I hope, I really hope, he'll still be here to listen to all my grumbles, all my unhappiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, he said hopefully he'll be able to give me my 21st bday pressie from overseas. I told him I'll be waiting. A sigh of relief, yet another expectation grew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time I learn how to move on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-6911439254746613296?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/6911439254746613296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=6911439254746613296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6911439254746613296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6911439254746613296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-know-ill-be-fine.html' title='I know I&apos;ll be fine.'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-249067256569763085</id><published>2009-12-18T17:51:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T18:20:24.949+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Alot of things happened at home lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because of the other time I went clubbing, back home late, I didn't sleep as I'm working morning shift the next day, mum wasn't happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time, I was home late, because I worked till 9+, then next morning I had a difficult time waking up. I'm tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I called her and said, I won't be home early, got OT to do, after that meet geok leng. She hang my phone call. I got fucked up. I'm angry. I grumbled alot to geok leng.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like, on average each day, I work from 7am-6pm, which is total of 11hours, then I spend total of 3 hours in travelling, that makes up 14hours already. Then dinner time, 1 hour, 15 hours. 24 hours, 15 hours gone, left with only 9 hours. If you want me, go work I see same faces everyday, then come home also see same faces everyday, I suppose I can die already. Can't I even use this 9 hours to enjoy myself a little, to go distress? I need a little time to my life too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I still went ahead with my plans. We went to eat steamboat at LaMeiZi. Chit chat alot. Catch up. Then aftermath, I brought her to arab street there. I can't believe I'm the one okay! Anyway, what I'm gonna mention next, no one scolds me for it okay, this is the only place I can mention about it. The two of us went into the shophouse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She tried shisha, and me asked for a vodka lime. And damn bloody hell, it took them 1/2 hour to process my order. Waste so much time. And I did try shisha. No kick. Nothing one. As if I breathing air only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Headed home at 2 plus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today off. Woke up actually want to go for medical check up one, for my insurance. End up, clinic close. Then mum fetched me to tan boon liat building, razorsharp. There got so many knives! I saw the salmon slicer I want!!! It cost $200++ but now got 50% lehs! Then I wanted to get knive bag, costing $149, got 50% too, so make it $75, I wanted to buy already. But mum said another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So end up, I bought my knives guards. 3 @ $29.90. And send my baby in for resharpening. I don't know how come I sharpen until the back of the knife like alll zigzac. And at the front of the blade got 1 hole. Damn angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many times I told YY not to use my knife to cut cling wrap already. I always pass her my small knife. She doesn't listen. If she knows how to care for my knife I don't care. But she doesn't. Yesterday she cut cling wrap, then knock!, onto the insert. The blade perpendicular onto the insert. Fucked up.!#$% my chef they all use ah, although they bang on table, I don't care, because it doesn't hurt the blade, but this one. WHA!!!! I WANT TAKE MY KNIFE KILL HER ALREADY! I use her knife sometimes also to cut cling wrap, but I take care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, you want to use people's personal knife, use it with a heart la, nabei. That's for sure 1 reason why I don't want bring my new zwiling to work lehs. I rather make use without my baby. -.-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm jealous of YY to be frank. Chef william dotes on her alot alot. But fuck care. There are things she had done and I've not learnt. But take it step by step. I see how they do, I do. Oh, I was so angry about my knife accident, it's just once that she injured my knife, but she use my knife on cling wrap alot alot of times. There isn't a need to use so much strength, cos my knife sharp liao. But there is this time, she tell me, eh, you knife not sharp. -.- her knife then not sharp. Still need people sharpen for her. -.-''' sigh. I nothing to say la.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that she's not good. But she no heart to learn lehs. Somethings at work I can share with her one at work, but she like, 'you also trainee' kind of attitude. Whatever lor, everyday come work like restless, come and play with pastry people. Don't know her la. I already warn her about what's happening in the kitchen, what they saying about her, she say she can't be bothered. Haiyo, quit school la. She say after attachment, she may quit this line already. Waste 2 years. I asked her the other time, why take this course. She say because she like lor. I don't see the passion there. Maybe not as much as mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cooking for yourself is the time where you can be the most expressive and experiment. Because only you eat, then you see if you can even pass your own standard not. To her it's not. To her cook for oneself to eat, should be as simple as possible, so don't need headache to think what to cook. See? Like that how to experiment lehs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know la. All I need is my own heart to learn. And please, STOP USING MY KNIFE ON CLING WRAPS! DON'T BLAME MY BABY FOR BITING YOU ONE DAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wished you are here to lend me you listening ear this few days.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-249067256569763085?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/249067256569763085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=249067256569763085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/249067256569763085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/249067256569763085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/12/alot-of-things-happened-at-home-lately.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1128173848387545547</id><published>2009-12-14T22:30:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T22:56:08.981+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;我已经开始习惯没有你的日子。我已经习惯了你的不纯在。&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;偶尔会在想，“你没发现我突然‘消失’了吗？”。 &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;我想我真的死心了。他一通电话也没打来，一断简讯也没有。&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;算了吧，我还是在重新寻找过吧！ &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;没有你，我还是会过的好好的。我会没事的。&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;你的明天， 有多快乐， 不是我的。&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;我们的爱是唱一半的歌。&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;时间把习惯换了，伤口愈合&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;也撤销我再想你的资格。&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;对我而言，这是唱一半的情歌。因为只有我在唱。&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;算了吧!! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1128173848387545547?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1128173848387545547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1128173848387545547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1128173848387545547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1128173848387545547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4460569192348260781</id><published>2009-12-14T22:02:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T22:25:59.493+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It has been real long since I last update on my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had been busy with work. Fully concentrating on work. Learning as much as I can. Though my collegues give me the title 'best trainee', I don't dare to pick up this title, because, I don't know it they mean it or they are just suaning me only. But I know, I'm trying hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went partying last saturday at st james. But I left early, because next day have work. And I had curfew to reach home by 2.30 am. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Came home never sleep. Mum woke up to scold. End up I pretended to go room to sleep. Ended up using hp to go online to chat. I close my eyes at around 4.20, then 4.55 I wake up wash up then go work already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was like a total zombie at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I loved the night. We had henessey with coke/ginger ale, but I drink very little only. Less than 2 cups in total. I never knew how to dance, but when I was there, it started all naturally. I love st james powerhouse, it was only my 1st time there, but I like it there more than zirca. The only thing I didn't like about powerhouse is that it was so crowded that night. And it was like so packed. But still, FUN! I came home deaf though. LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somemore clubbing for me please? I know I moved like a woodblock, but who cares?! ;P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4460569192348260781?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4460569192348260781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4460569192348260781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4460569192348260781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4460569192348260781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/12/it-has-been-real-long-since-i-last.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-186496316340303842</id><published>2009-12-03T00:46:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T00:48:17.249+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I miss chatting with you badly.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm the director, producer, actor, actress, publisher, of this story. It's all just me, you're innocent.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-186496316340303842?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/186496316340303842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=186496316340303842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/186496316340303842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/186496316340303842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-miss-chatting-with-you-badly.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7935064118550972443</id><published>2009-12-01T23:35:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T23:39:49.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Contradicting.</title><content type='html'>I miss chatting with you. I wanted to reply that message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet my heart made me block you, asked me not to reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just protecting myself. Because I know, if I chat and I reply your message, I'll forgive you. Then once you start 'sweet talking', I'll start all over again, liking you. I'm just drawing my distance, I don't want to fall into that hole that would just pierce through my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking for that lock, of which the key I'm holding to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7935064118550972443?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7935064118550972443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7935064118550972443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7935064118550972443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7935064118550972443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/12/contradicting.html' title='Contradicting.'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-6912636978575289142</id><published>2009-12-01T01:08:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T01:08:48.512+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fucking emotional these 2 days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-6912636978575289142?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/6912636978575289142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=6912636978575289142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6912636978575289142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6912636978575289142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/12/fucking-emotional-these-2-days.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1102289386291381146</id><published>2009-11-30T11:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T12:23:06.221+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Can choose to ignore this post. I just need to blog my heart out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You may think that I'm unreasonable. Getting angry with you for nothing. You're innocent. It's just a birthday wish I didn't get, and I can get angry for so long. This is because, I care. You don't care, but I do. A simple wish, could have made me fly to the moon. But now, I fa&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;ll from the sky.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;People say you must have been tired that you've forgotten. Facebook have reminders. And even till today, I didn't get what I was waiting for. I'm petty, you can say, I won't mind. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then I thought you forgotten about today. At least you bothered to msg me telling me you can't make it. Thank you, the answer is clear, you're not even keen in going out. Please stop misleading me. You always make it sounds like you want a meet up. But every time, meet up would fail, or you would be late. I'm nobody to you, you don't bloody give a damn about me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What were you trying to show me, don't say a person I admire, just a friend since 2003, doesn't even wish me for birthday? I know my birthday not a big deal lah. Then there he goes, he'll break what he said the other time of buying me something I want when I turned 21. He can't remember the date of my 18th birthday, would he remember the date of 21st? I doubt so.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Utter disappointment, making me tearing apart.. :'(&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1102289386291381146?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1102289386291381146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1102289386291381146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1102289386291381146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1102289386291381146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/11/can-choose-to-ignore-this-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2975935294750520664</id><published>2009-11-30T02:39:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T03:09:10.320+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think I'm going crazy! He's not sms-ing me about anything. Not even regarding if we're meeting up tomorrow. Tomorrow if he calls me or sms me, I would say I won't be meeting him, I'm having a hang over. FUCK IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does it have to hurt so badly? :'( It's just me, not even about him. But it really does hurts, even though he's just the innocent partie. :((&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*edited*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's such a pretty beauty.&lt;br /&gt;She's gorgeous.&lt;br /&gt;I envy her so much.&lt;br /&gt;Simply because, she gets what I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't see myself anywhere close,&lt;br /&gt;to where this gorgeous beauty is standing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm still staying online. For don't know whatever fucking reason. My heart doesn't seems to get me to sleep. He's still online. But I blocked him. I don't know what I'm doing.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2975935294750520664?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2975935294750520664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2975935294750520664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2975935294750520664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2975935294750520664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-think-im-going-crazy-hes-not-sms-ing.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4695760609441726871</id><published>2009-11-30T01:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T01:34:33.737+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Just came back from pubbing then clubbing. I didn't know clubbing was so fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried lychee mojito for a start at the pub. Then we went zirca (is this how you spell) for clubbing. Cos it was gay night, so we wanted to see how it was like. Then I had free admission, because I was the birthday girl:) But I don't get free drink luhs. Then they all ordered their first drink, grace ordered for me flaming lambourghini. It's quite nice though!:) Didn't really have much effect on me. Just that after that they ordered the one for on redbull vodka. I think I drank almost 3/4 to a jug of it. Kamz keep making me drink. Then they order tequila shots for me. Then i say we buy another two shots, i pay $20 the rest they pay. Then 3 of us drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was a little seh lah, nt very still can walk, still awake, just vision lags. Then before we go off, pass by the dance floor. They pulled me up to dance, just go up and move lor. Don't know how to shake, anyhow move. haha! Fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to go again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really felt when I was there, I cannot think of any other unhappiness. It felt as though I was on drugs. But when I came home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm all emo again. I waited for 24 hours, even to the last second. I even checked my phone when I was in the club.. This is just how much I want that sms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came home, I came online. He's online, I know it I appear online, he would wish me. I just don't want to. He had forgotten. Forget it. He doesn't even bothers to sms me about tomorrow. I'll put aeroplane then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even told grace, I don't want to get drunk, cos I don't want to get hangover, because, I might be meeting him tomorrow. And all I got was : forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:'(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4695760609441726871?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4695760609441726871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4695760609441726871' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4695760609441726871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4695760609441726871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/11/just-came-back-from-pubbing-then.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7805966368299317548</id><published>2009-11-08T20:28:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T20:30:43.672+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It seems as though we've drifted apart. It seems like I can't rely on you for my problems like how i used to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the old times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7805966368299317548?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7805966368299317548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7805966368299317548' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7805966368299317548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7805966368299317548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-seems-as-though-weve-drifted-apart.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-6395474521082419486</id><published>2009-10-28T22:01:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T22:10:20.305+08:00</updated><title type='text'>know</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I wish you knows, yet sometimes i wish you don't. But by the day you know, i would hope you don't. Now that you don't know, I wish you know. But weather you know or don't, I don't know. Then if I know, how would you know that i know that you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. It's kinda confusing. But these words had been on my mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-6395474521082419486?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/6395474521082419486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=6395474521082419486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6395474521082419486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6395474521082419486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/10/know.html' title='know'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-5458307667051557041</id><published>2009-10-19T18:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T18:51:53.054+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Waiting at amkhub nw for mum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got alot to say for these few days. I'll blog more when i get home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Using hp to blog is so cooollll~ whahaha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-5458307667051557041?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/5458307667051557041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=5458307667051557041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5458307667051557041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5458307667051557041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/10/waiting-at-amkhub-nw-for-mum.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-6404535049680801181</id><published>2009-10-16T22:37:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T22:50:04.428+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tomorrow would be the day back to reality already. 3 days of leave were so shiok. Don't have to work, don't have to see people face. Then go back work 2 days, I going butchery already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the times I don't have to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny to say that I feels pressurised at work, yet no one had been giving me pressure. People there always tell me, nevermind, take your time to train yourself, to learn. That gives me more stress. Because I know, I don't have much time, I need to pick things up fast. So how, given this situation, it's me or it's collegues?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I hate to say, I'm the one making myself dreadful of work. I'm the one who make life seems so sucky to me. I expect myself to learn things fast, do things accurately, do things with quality. That's me. But I never expect that I, being so unrealistic, giving myself such expectation is too high. Because I know, if I say this time, it's ok la the quality not there, won't have next time. The next time I do something wrong, I simply repeat this answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why ain't I doing things even up to my own expectations? I know, there is other people out there with even higher expectations. But why I can't even reach my own? Was it too high or what? I don't think it's high, it's just a basic suvival expectation of myself. An expectation through life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on Pamela. Learn like how you should be. Stop acting blur. Do things fast, fast, fast! FAST, ACCURATE, QUALITY, QUANTITY! That's all I need!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANOTHER 36 weeks, fight it till the end!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-6404535049680801181?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/6404535049680801181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=6404535049680801181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6404535049680801181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/6404535049680801181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/10/tomorrow-would-be-day-back-to-reality.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-5142942581135455945</id><published>2009-10-12T11:42:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T11:55:16.794+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pain</title><content type='html'>Can you not, update me with your life with such informations?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it. Simply because I can feel the pain from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You've been through up and down during this whole period of this girl. I've seen the happiest side of you, being able to truely laugh your heart out, acting as though a child who just ate his first ice-cream. I've seen how hard you smack yourself in your own face, saying how much a bastard you are. I've not seen these visually, but through your words, through your sms. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When you were happy, I were happy for you too. But it hurts so much, when I hear you scolding yourself. Isolating yourself at home to emo. It all started with me, for telling you how much hatred I had for man. And the term 'Man are bastards' came up between us. So common now, that you keep saying you're a bastard. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why the hell did I came up with those words, that you end up using it on someone I love? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This sucks -seriously.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pain.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-5142942581135455945?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/5142942581135455945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=5142942581135455945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5142942581135455945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5142942581135455945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/10/pain.html' title='Pain'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-1283772079482527850</id><published>2009-10-06T19:13:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T19:19:58.541+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing up</title><content type='html'>Is it part of growing up, that now, I wish I have a boyfriend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last time, I would say things such as I don't want to get married, I don't want to have family. But now that I've been reading young mummy's blog. They made me want to have a child of my own- they are damn good at this man. And of course, not any of those with the useless chap by their side. I want someone who can commit - though I'm not sure if I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want someone resposible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, collegues at work was trying to help me match make lor. But I just smile smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I hate &lt;em&gt;bastards&lt;/em&gt;, however I believe out of 1000&lt;em&gt;bastards&lt;/em&gt; I can find 1 that suits me. Oh well. Fate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-1283772079482527850?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/1283772079482527850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=1283772079482527850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1283772079482527850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/1283772079482527850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/10/growing-up.html' title='Growing up'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7002434729507742160</id><published>2009-09-29T22:20:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T22:23:35.748+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Which is worst?</title><content type='html'>A likes attached people(them). But A gets to see them happy with their significant ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B likes singles. But the one B likes, likes others but in complicated situation and not happy at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who is more painful?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You all should know who I'm talking about anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7002434729507742160?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7002434729507742160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7002434729507742160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7002434729507742160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7002434729507742160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/09/which-is-worst.html' title='Which is worst?'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4273335939400824419</id><published>2009-09-29T22:00:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T22:03:32.486+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I spent so much today. And I really mean alot. Gosh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working life's getting boring. Fucking boring lehs. Machiam doing things for the sake of doing. Fuck. I hate to do things not for passion but for the sake of doing. Nabei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes, I feel a little empty inside.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4273335939400824419?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4273335939400824419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4273335939400824419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4273335939400824419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4273335939400824419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-spent-so-much-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-891975314091829810</id><published>2009-09-28T23:23:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T23:33:27.660+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Made some changes to my blog. I'm only allowing 3 people to read already. HAHA. Although I know no ones reading anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today at work. All the full timer kena scolded lor. Partially because of me. Sian. I feel guilty. But I was told not to be. So tired to repeat the story again. I'm lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clarence messaged me this morning. It felt kind of weird. Why the sudden sms. Like what Simone said, pherhaps he just needs a friend to talk to. Oh well, I ain't his only friend also what. It's like he have so many other close friends(which I'm not one of them - I just know), why me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm unclear of my feelings now though. I thought I've given up. No longer the special feeling. But yet again and again. I know I am decieving myself again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you refer to my previous post. I said I know. And I was right. Something happened between him and his aquamarine. He said he was in his own world, decieving himself. I was right. I just know something went wrong. Don't ask me how I know, I can feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The exchange of the few sms this morning. Made me wonder, did he sms-ed the wrong person? I've got no idea. In his messages, he said that perhaps all these takes time and fate to meet his mrs right. I've got the urge to blah out everything. But again, it's never the right timing. So stress already, tell him, he can't handle it well anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-891975314091829810?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/891975314091829810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=891975314091829810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/891975314091829810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/891975314091829810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/09/made-some-changes-to-my-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-3673005282291260989</id><published>2009-09-27T00:57:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T00:59:44.590+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I know you got hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wished the one who is hurting you is me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because, I know, I'll be more painful than you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just guessing. I'm not sure if I got it right. But it's a 90% thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-3673005282291260989?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/3673005282291260989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=3673005282291260989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3673005282291260989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/3673005282291260989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-know-you-got-hurt.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-9065190232876682137</id><published>2009-09-08T21:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T21:25:21.776+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Moved to the local side today. So sudden to me. Off for 3 days, come back, I'm at a different place already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first, morning it didn't feel good. It felt as though like, the other chefs I worked with before, like bo hue me lehs. But things went better after lunch. Chef came to talk to me, blah blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just a sweet beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having sucha weak stomach now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-9065190232876682137?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/9065190232876682137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=9065190232876682137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/9065190232876682137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/9065190232876682137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/09/moved-to-local-side-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-5933626502775175129</id><published>2009-08-30T20:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:20:50.670+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who had worked with me, would know how i work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why, now, at work. I'm completely a different person. It's seems like as though I'm never confident, I have no self-esteem. I become so blur, so slow, can't think, not observant. Then I kenna diao by people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How have I became such a person? Just what had happened to me? My confidence level dropped right down. It seems as though I'm not confident in cooking. When I cook last time, I always have this special feeling, cooking something with a taste people can't tell what exactly it is- it's feeling. But why now, it feels as though I'm cooking, just to prove myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want cook just to prove myself. I want to cook my feelings for people. Not just for the sake of cooking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D: I want myself back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-5933626502775175129?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/5933626502775175129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=5933626502775175129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5933626502775175129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/5933626502775175129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/08/sigh.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-8157337503035113247</id><published>2009-08-28T22:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T22:30:53.823+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm sad,I'm upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm fustrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ate so much more than normal. Till I get tummy ache so often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-8157337503035113247?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/8157337503035113247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=8157337503035113247' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8157337503035113247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8157337503035113247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-sadim-upset.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2617979295737508767</id><published>2009-08-27T01:33:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T01:50:42.921+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know if today is my day, or just not my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good thing is that I manage to finish the exec floor food, within the limited time. By myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bad thing is that, when I was trying to do the plating for the curry puff ( I spend like the whole bloody night thinking, because my chef wants something new and refreshing), people laughed at me. I arranged the curry puffs nicely on the plate in a circular direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I asked, 'Can I put carrot in the middle?' John replied, 'HUH? Want put what?' I said, 'Carrot. Can or not?' They laughed. Speaking in cantonese which I can hardly understand. But sure was saying things like what put carrot later carrot don't-know become what. John said, 'Put paper then put some fried beehoon can already what.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a immediate smack into my face. I swear. Though I'm just a trainee, but I can think for myself. Put paper, beehoon, chilli padi, curry leaf, so where's the difference? It's like playing so safe. And when I said I wanted to put carrot, anyone cared to ask, what type of carrot, how you gonna prepare the carrot? No. They laughed immediately, thinking it's stupid. You think I so stupid put raw carrot there, then got heating lamp then let the lamp heat until the carrot &lt;em&gt;nua&lt;/em&gt; mehs? Please lor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My idea was to take the shredded carrot, deep fry it till like crispy hard, kind of thing. At least, a little orange on the plate you see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a white plate. The folded paper is black and white. Beehoon is white. Chilli Padi, red. Curry leafs, green. Curry puff, golden brown. Ain't it boring?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it was my idea. Plate, white. Bottom I use bamboo leaf instead of paper, so green. Fried carrot instead of beehoon, orange. Chilli padi, red. Curry leaf, another shade of green. Curry Puff, golden brown. Isn't it a little more refreshing to the eyes, with the carrot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Problem is, people don't see the way I see things. They don't bother to understand why I want to do things that way. Bottom line, they think I'm a trainee. I'm not experienced. I simply make a mess out of everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People, just wait alright. Your smack, I'll return it to you. With a hundred time stronger strength. I prove it to you, not with my words and laughter like how you did. I prove it to you with an invitation to sit in my restaurant to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if I'm going into pastry and baking. My restaurant would still have hot food, savouries main course etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't put myself at your level of doing things, it just bring me down. If forever staying on the safe side. I would say, I'm sorry, you ain't going anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BASTARDS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2617979295737508767?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2617979295737508767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2617979295737508767' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2617979295737508767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2617979295737508767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-dont-know-if-today-is-my-day-or-just.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-8453503688721494306</id><published>2009-08-24T11:51:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T11:57:19.272+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shooting</title><content type='html'>As usual, I'm reading young mummies' blogs. And I realised, why have more and more mummies, getting preggy again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's like first child, shot-gun, bo bian married. So since married already, why not help singapore government to increase their population issit? It's like after the girl give birth to first child, perhaps immediately or few months later, you see them announcing that they're gonna have the second child.Wha Eh! the husband damn good at SHOOTING can?! Maciam, shoot everytime, everytime good aiming lehs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or they no money buy condom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;muahaha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-8453503688721494306?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/8453503688721494306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=8453503688721494306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8453503688721494306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8453503688721494306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/08/shooting.html' title='Shooting'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-2781819773940326912</id><published>2009-08-23T01:04:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T01:18:31.860+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Question-Kid</title><content type='html'>People who knows me, would know that I'm a 'question-kid'. I can ask tons of question, common sense, this that whatever. I just want a answer, be it good or bad, if I not satisfied with your answer, I ask another person. Yes, I'm this kind of person, if you don't know. Ask my sis if you have to. Mum &amp;amp; Sis often get annoyed by my questions. But by asking all this stupid questions, or whatever questions, make me learn, make me think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked my chef just now, what's the herb in that dish, blah blah blah. What part of the meat is entercote, etc etc. Quite alot. Because they look foreign to me, they sound foreign to me. So I just ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then suddenly a question came to my mind. Because I saw that bloody fly, flying around my food, infront of customer. I get annoyed, I hate flies. And everytime there sure have 1 fly flying around, which is really so irritating, that i have to keep shoo-ing it away. So I asked my chef, 'chef, do you know of any way to get rid of flies at such area?' I think he somehow got annoyed also la. He said, he not pest control, how would he know. Then he went blah blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all the crap, he said, 'what other question you have for me? you ah, ask alot of all this have and dun have de question.' Then he starting singing the yi wan ge wei she me the song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To some, may not know. I ask all this questions, is not nonsense lehs. Because I'm expected to be asked the same question, either by my kids next time, or someone younger than me. I asked him about the ingredients, and the beef parts, that's for my knowledge. And I ask about the fly, I wasn't trying to be funny though. Because I know, this is one problem that I may face in the kitchen in the future. Though kitchen would be indoor, etc, but still, there'll still be means and way the fly can get in. No matter how clean my kitchen is, the weather outside does affect these insects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why people cannot put themselves in my shoe? Why they can't understand why I ask such questions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only by asking questions I can learn right? If not I stand outside for like 4 hours, I learn what? At least I put an effort in observing what's in the food right? And I must know what part of the beef I'm serving right? Cannot wait until customer ask then I ask ma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, got once, I stand outside, I keep thinking lehs, the fried rice spicy not ah? Because it's Nonya stlye fried rice. Nonya usually spicy mah. But I never ask the chef. End up really got people ask me lehs. -.-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you see, it's not about me trying to be funny to ask all sorts of question. It's because I know, if I were the customer, what kind of question I would ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all curiosity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-2781819773940326912?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/2781819773940326912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=2781819773940326912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2781819773940326912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/2781819773940326912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/08/question-kid.html' title='Question-Kid'/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-8301367557125006006</id><published>2009-08-20T01:50:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T02:00:13.107+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I thank god that I've met sucha friend like Simone lehs. Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides the few, I always go to when I face problems- wanying, clarence, jiayi.&lt;br /&gt;This girl here never fails to appear when I really need to speak my heart out lehs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though everytime she would say the same thing repeatly in the same conversation over and over and over again, but due to the same 1-5 sentences she says, can make me think straight, clears my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note, something not that relevant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I have spilt personality. I always can see other people's point of view. Even  to the extend I would know how they think, what they want to say( i think simone may agree on this). I see things at MY point of view and theirs at the same time. Which everytime, caught me. Is this my hidden talent?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take this away from me. I don't wish to have this 'talent'. I can be understanding. But I gets angry when this person doesn't understands my point of view. It's annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, thanks Simone. If it wasn't for that conversation, I think tonight I can't sleep already. But it still feels alittle uneasy deep there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-8301367557125006006?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/8301367557125006006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=8301367557125006006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8301367557125006006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/8301367557125006006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-thank-god-that-ive-met-sucha-friend.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-4003774335563767128</id><published>2009-08-20T00:59:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T01:09:02.832+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm troubled, I'm in a dilemia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know clearly, it's never wrong to ask for a new task when the task on hand had finished. It's never wrong to ask, to double check if things are done up to standard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, the cook 1 bombed me with some words today. He told me this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've got to be independent. Don't everyday ask me got what need to do. Don't ask me questions over and over again. Someday you need to all this thing by yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's quite true. I'm not saying that he's wrong. But still... Hais, I don't know what to say lehs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind is filled with alot of things after he said that. He made me think. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if I don't ask, I feels uncomfortable. Besides asking what to do, is this correct is that correct, etc. I often ask him what's this, what's that etc. He dislikes me to ask questions. He can't be bothered to explain so much to me. Often just thrown to things all alone, with no explaination, and to do it to perfection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's not at wrong, that I would say. Neither I think Im wrong to ask and ask. Even over and over again, since I'm not sure. I rather ask before I do, rather than I do wrong, later redo, waste food etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't know. He compared me to other trainees, saying they don't ask that much, they just do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHHHHHH!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know lah. they say not sure, ask. So I ask, now people tell me don't ask so much. SO HOW?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a dilemia :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I relay on people rather much at work. But at least the rest are willing to answer my question, willing to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-4003774335563767128?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/4003774335563767128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=4003774335563767128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4003774335563767128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/4003774335563767128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-troubled-im-in-dilemia.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-936087141809659362</id><published>2009-08-18T23:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T00:01:17.596+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What happen to blogger now? Why look so distorted?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, had been long since I last blogged. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I just got to know that the first day of hungry ghost festival is this thursday. Oh well, normally during this months over the years, I was told to come home early, when come home becareful, blah blah blah. And so, this whole week I'll be working afternoon. Which also means that I'll be home around 12.30-12.45 in the morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God bless me man. Furthermore tomorrow I would be home that timing. When all massive burning would be happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not those superstitious person, I don't say totally believe nor totally doesn't believe. It's more of a rather be safe than sorry. Just pray for me, k. That I wouldn't run into things. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-936087141809659362?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/936087141809659362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=936087141809659362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/936087141809659362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/936087141809659362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-happen-to-blogger-now-why-look-so.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414622840977440502.post-7279309781986547494</id><published>2009-07-25T20:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T20:19:45.910+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Have I ever mentioned that how much I HATE people to treat me differently in the kitchen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-'aiya, hot, you don't do'&lt;br /&gt;-'very heavy lehs, nvm, i take'&lt;br /&gt;-'nvm la, i do.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE SUCH THING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY CAN'T STUPID OLD MEN, JUST CANNOT ACCEPT THE FACT THAT WOMEN ARE THE ONES WHO ARE MADE TO BE IN THE KITCHEN? WOMEN STARTED TO COOK FIRST RIGHT? I doubt these men cooks at home either. It's their mother who cooks! Worst still, some perhaps the maid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would not say that all men are like these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But seriously, those commercial COOKS, not yet CHEFS, why treats a women different? What a man can do, so does the women. Except I can't make a women pregnant, I've got no dick nor sperms to get them preggy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fucking asshole. I hate working with such idiots, who are just so demoralising. And fucking don't let me do things just because I'm a girl(somemore so young). Fuck you idiots. Don't like me ask questions, I'll ask even more. Don't let me do things, I ownself find things do. Thinks that I'm too slow for you, I purposely do things slowly just for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a person. Believe it or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're sucha LOSER, if because you thinks that you're not willing to teach, because in the future I snatch your rice bowl, then too bad. Reason is simple, because I WILL DO BETTER than who you are today! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WOULD BE A BETTER PERSON.&lt;br /&gt;I WOULD BE A BETTER CHEF.&lt;br /&gt;I WOULD BE A BETTER COACH.&lt;br /&gt;IN ANY WORDS, I WOULD BE BETTER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And why the fuck am I comparing myself with that asshole? &lt;br /&gt;I shouldn't compare. Because I already know at heart, I would make a better person(:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414622840977440502-7279309781986547494?l=just-pamela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/feeds/7279309781986547494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414622840977440502&amp;postID=7279309781986547494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7279309781986547494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414622840977440502/posts/default/7279309781986547494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-pamela.blogspot.com/2009/07/have-i-ever-mentioned-that-how-much-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09820005487072919509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
