<?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-7619707736525543143</id><updated>2011-07-08T08:50:47.822-07:00</updated><title type='text'>.vic's thoughts.</title><subtitle type='html'>Welcome to my thoughts. I hope you like them. Enjoy the ride.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Victor Eduardo Quiroz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11635462378271335830</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXZrrk6bO5I/AAAAAAAAACc/1CnKRYEOSg4/S220/IMG_0620.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7619707736525543143.post-2298432925343794835</id><published>2009-09-28T12:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T23:09:26.507-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter: Karma is a bitch.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Ok. I'm sorry I hadn't posted earlier, my dear readers. I'll try to post more regularly.&lt;br /&gt;. . . . . . . .&lt;br /&gt;I just can't even put my thoughts together now. I feel so angry right now.&lt;br /&gt;Why do you have to, always, be so selfish? I just can't understand how a person can be so damn selfish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;*tiene que ver&lt;br /&gt;*con que todo el mundo asume que pq yo siempre me estoy riendo, y hablando, yo soy una        idiota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;*con que alguien que dice que soy su mejor amiga, me pone condiciones y ultimatos, y tiene 2 semanas que no me habla pq segun el, yo soy una perra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*con que mi roommate esta tan secure in her relationship, que no ve que me duele cada vez que ellos me invitan a salir con ellos o cuando estan juntos aqui&lt;br /&gt;*con que todo el mundo asume que mi felicidad no es superficial, and they underestimate what i need from them&lt;br /&gt;*tiene que ver&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*con que me tomen for granted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*because im always there&lt;br /&gt;*y con que aveces, me gustaria que se trate de mi. no siempre, pero de vez en cuando, que alguien se de cuenta de lo que yo quiero y necesito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;A common friend told me today that you were going through some hard times, and told me to read your blog... ERROR, my friend, ERROR.&lt;br /&gt;Leer esto solo me llena de ira, furia y cualquier otro sentimiento similar. I even thought of calling you to see what was going on, because despite everything, I still care. You are human, and still "my friend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tell me... what were the "conditions and ultimatum" I gave you? Please enlighten me. And I'm sorry if I popped your fairy tale bubble, where you were the pink princess waiting for your blue prince, but you are a bitch. And you know it. You were always a bitch to me. De solo recordar, me duele. Do I have to refresh your memory of what happened this summer? Or what have happened during the last 3 years? Do I really have to? Put yourself in my shoes, and imagine I did the things you did to me. Describeme con una palabra... an asshole? a jerk? a dick, maybe? I was your best friend, and yet, you still treated me like a big piece of shit. I WAS YOUR BEST F***ING FRIEND!!! And you never thought of how I would feel with your actions. No solo me tiraste al suelo, sino que me arrastraste... Tu no te imaginas lo que me dolio que TU me hicieras eso... De todas las personas, tu. You played me like the best, y todo porque you always &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;took me for granted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;;&lt;/span&gt; cause &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;I was ALWAYS there for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;En nuestra amistad, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;todo siempre se trato de ti. Me? I was just a side dish. A notch in your bedpost. That's it.&lt;/span&gt; You just can't imagine how much I needed you in times. Y aunque tu creas que nunca fue asi, lo que realmente importa es como yo lo senti que fue... y que tu nunca hiciste nada para emendarlo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I'm doing more than great. I'm falling in love once again, and things are turning on my right side. I really feel bad for you; I really do. Trust me. But this time, it's your time to say sorry, and assume the consequences of all your actions; of how you always treated me. Cual de los dos mas orgullosos? No. Eso ya no aplica. Simplemente me canse, y te toca a ti pedir perdon. I tried to fix it 2 fridays ago, and you acted like if you were the one with the reason, remember? Too bad you turned out to play it like that.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry to put it this way, but it's payback time.&lt;br /&gt;Karma is a huge bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope to hear from you soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With love and kindest regards,&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7619707736525543143-2298432925343794835?l=vics-crib.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/feeds/2298432925343794835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/09/letter-karma-is-bitch.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/2298432925343794835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/2298432925343794835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/09/letter-karma-is-bitch.html' title='Letter: Karma is a bitch.'/><author><name>Victor Eduardo Quiroz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11635462378271335830</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXZrrk6bO5I/AAAAAAAAACc/1CnKRYEOSg4/S220/IMG_0620.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7619707736525543143.post-1530676071660520171</id><published>2009-03-17T13:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T14:54:50.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"I don't wanna talk about it."</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I don't wanna talk about it."&lt;/span&gt; I believe that's one thing I really hate to hear when I ask someone what's wrong. Listen, if I ask you what's wrong is because I really care; is not like I'm looking for a topic for our conversation. Plus, if you don't wanna talk about it, why the fuck do you tell me you have a problem? You see what I mean? I mean, I could be wrong, but still, it's sort of frustrating, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I found out the reason for most of my frustrations is a person. I realized that most of them are produced when I have any sort of interaction with that person. How come? I don't really know. I have also realized that my friendship with that person is deteriorating. Or at least I feel that way. We don't talk that much, and when we do, is for a very short period of time, unlike before when we would spend hours talking on the phone. I feel replaced. It's been a while like this, and I don't even want to talk about it with that person because that person is always avoiding that conversation (or any topic related to our friendship status). It's really frustrating (and I'm not even interacting with that person right now). I even am losing interest on our friendship, due to the lack of interest from the other side; it's not like I want to, but I don't see where our friendship is going like this, so it's like... not-on-purpose deterioration. I'm always looking forward to fixing things, and this has not been the exception, but I just hate the careless attitude from that person toward my things. I feel like I can't talk to that person about my things anymore, because that person doesn't really tell me anything anymore. We don't really talk anymore. Do you realize how bad it is? I just did. So there. Hence my frustration. And to be honest, this really sucks for me... big time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: This does not mean I'm closing my arms to you; you know I love you, and always will. You are my best friend still, but I feel like our friendship is not real right now, for the lack of a better word. I know I just dug my grave, but I had to do this. I hope you read it, and don't misconstrue my words in this post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7619707736525543143-1530676071660520171?l=vics-crib.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/feeds/1530676071660520171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-dont-wanna-talk-about-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/1530676071660520171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/1530676071660520171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-dont-wanna-talk-about-it.html' title='&quot;I don&apos;t wanna talk about it.&quot;'/><author><name>Victor Eduardo Quiroz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11635462378271335830</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXZrrk6bO5I/AAAAAAAAACc/1CnKRYEOSg4/S220/IMG_0620.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7619707736525543143.post-4415061184008088981</id><published>2009-02-10T01:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T01:49:55.502-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't regret it, but I think I shouldn't had...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's 4 o'clock in the morning, and I couldn't help it but to get up from my bed and start writing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You know... I had this inside of me and I knew I had to let it out, and although I really had to, now I think I shouldn't had done it. Yes... I told her almost everything that was chewing me up inside for the past... month, maybe? I was so damn nervous while I was talking 'cause I had never [and I wanna make emphasis on the word &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;"NEVER"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;been so honest with a person about that kind of feelings; I've always been the tough one. But tonight I proved myself wrong. Tonight I realized that I'm not always the tough one, or not always have to be that one. I believe I'm sort of addicted to her; she's like my own brand of heroine. And despite the fact that I told her, I don't feel completely satisfied. Would anyone please [and I'm begging] tell me why I feel this way if I know that I had to let it out? A part of me feels better now that she knows what was going on, but the other part thinks I did wrong. Now I can't sleep, damn it! She wasn't being very talkative after I said everything. Honestly, not that many words came out of her mouth. Maybe that's the reason of why I'm feeling this way. I think I was expecting for a better explanation. I still need some good answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I don't know what's gonna happen now. I'm so lost in my thoughts that I can't even put my thoughts together. I get mad and frustrated just to think about it; just to think about what she did. Or didn't do, better said. I know it's gonna be hard but I'll try to bury it in the past.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Tomorrow is gonna suck for me; I feel it, and I know it. But I guess I'll just have to sit, wait, and see what's gonna happen. I really hope for her to give me more thoughts from herself on the subject.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;P.S.: this song came up a few minutes ago. I love it, so I'll just paste it into this post. Maybe it means something.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Is it worth the can you even hear me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Standing with your spotlight on me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Not enough to feed the hungry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; I'm tired and I felt it for awhile now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; In this sea of lonely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; The taste of ink is getting old&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; It's four o' clock in the fucking morning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Each day gets more and more like the last day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Still I can see it coming&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; While I'm standing in the river drowning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; This could be my chance to break out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; This could be my chance to say goodbye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; At last it's finally over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Couldn't take this town much longer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Being half dead wasn't what I planned to be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Now I'm ready to be free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; So here I am it's in my hands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; And I'll savor every moment of this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; So here I am alive at last&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; And I'll savor every moment of this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7619707736525543143-4415061184008088981?l=vics-crib.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/feeds/4415061184008088981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-dont-regret-it-but-i-think-i-shouldnt.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/4415061184008088981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/4415061184008088981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-dont-regret-it-but-i-think-i-shouldnt.html' title='I don&apos;t regret it, but I think I shouldn&apos;t had...'/><author><name>Victor Eduardo Quiroz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11635462378271335830</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXZrrk6bO5I/AAAAAAAAACc/1CnKRYEOSg4/S220/IMG_0620.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7619707736525543143.post-3400381625062876776</id><published>2009-02-07T17:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T19:09:00.290-08:00</updated><title type='text'>today, I thought of you...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;There's something that will hunt me down for the rest of my life, and it's what happened that day. If there's something I regret in my whole life is what I did that Sunday night; Sunday, June 3rd, 2007. If I could turn back time and undo what I did, I would not think it over twice. I gave her the wrong impression of me that day; that person that night wasn't me. I admit anger was by my side because of what had happened 2 days ago, but that did not give me any reason to act the way I did, or to say the things I said. That is just not me, but I was frustrated. And although my friends told me not to do it, I stupidly did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that day, I knew our relationship, our friendship, was doomed. But I realized it a little too late. And what I regret the most is that I lost her friendship. She was my best friend and I lost her. Of course I tried to fix it, but then again, it was too late. I am terribly sorry for what I did and said, and I want you to know that. And I also want you to know that I miss you as well. I wish we could be friends like we used to; that's all I'm asking. I know it's hard, almost impossible, but I feel the need of talking to you like I used to, and I miss the way you opened yourself to me and told me about your problems, and together we were able to figure something out to fix it. You really were a very good friend, and I miss that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, things aren't always like we want them to be, and the bad things you do will always hunt you down for the rest of your life, unless you fix them. I hope this can be fixable. It would be so damn great to have you back as a friend. I even smile when I think about it.   (:&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I'm currently listening to Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars. That was our song; the song she dedicated to me. Pretty awkward coincidence&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;pre style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;We'll do it all, everything, on our own &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;We don't need anything or anyone &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;If I lay here &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;If I just lay here &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Would you lie with me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;And just forget the world &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I don't quite know how to say how I feel &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Those three words are said too much &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;They're not enough &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;If I lay here &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;If I just lay here &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Would you lie with me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;And just forget the world &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Forget what we're told &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Before we get too old &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Show me a garden that's bursting into life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7619707736525543143-3400381625062876776?l=vics-crib.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/feeds/3400381625062876776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/02/today-i-thought-of-you.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/3400381625062876776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/3400381625062876776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/02/today-i-thought-of-you.html' title='today, I thought of you...'/><author><name>Victor Eduardo Quiroz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11635462378271335830</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXZrrk6bO5I/AAAAAAAAACc/1CnKRYEOSg4/S220/IMG_0620.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7619707736525543143.post-6558804284734291799</id><published>2009-01-21T17:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T18:19:40.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'>is it that hard?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;damn it. is it that hard? i've been thinking about something that happened recently. does anybody know what a present really mean? a present means that, no matter where the person where, he thought of you, and therefore bought you a present; cause you were present in his mind. wouldn't you accept a present a friend brings you from another country, no matter how big or small, shiny or dull is? do you know how fucked up is when you buy something for someone and that person declines it? "i don't want it." i'll be honest, my friend... that brought my whole world down that day in such an easy way; made me feel like shit. i mean, it's ok to understand that a person doesn't like presents, but to coldly tell you that she doesn't want it? call me nitpicker, but that's fucked up. that's been chewing me up inside for a while. i was trying to let it go, but i couldn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;another thing. you have this friend of yours [a very good friend] and he's been out of the country for 28 days, but you perfectly knows that he arrives today. what's the first thing you do? exactly. it's obvious. i was pretty amazed when i received lots of calls, even overseas, but none of them was from my "friend." wow. thank you, i had a very good flight anyways. but you know what? w/e. i don't feel like talking about it anymore. not right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in a last note, i want to let you know that if you wanted to push me away, hah, you did it pretty well. i have to say that it was the wrong way 'cause i was expecting something more mature; i mean, almost 20 years old... i think i'm wayyy past the "i won't talk to him and he'll get the picture" shit. i believe i'm strong enough to take that shot. i was expecting a face to face conversation, like normal and grown up adults that we are, but who cares; it worked out pretty good for you, didn't it? but i think you pushed me too far away, 'cause despite everything, i'm your friend. but it's all good, my friend. it's all good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s.: how convenient. i was just listening to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'Never Gonna Be Alone,'&lt;/span&gt; by &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nickelback &lt;/span&gt;from their last album, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;'Dark&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Horse,'&lt;/span&gt; which i have to add up that it's very good. listen to it. seriously. take a peak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7619707736525543143-6558804284734291799?l=vics-crib.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/feeds/6558804284734291799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/01/is-it-that-hard.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/6558804284734291799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/6558804284734291799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/01/is-it-that-hard.html' title='is it that hard?'/><author><name>Victor Eduardo Quiroz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11635462378271335830</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXZrrk6bO5I/AAAAAAAAACc/1CnKRYEOSg4/S220/IMG_0620.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7619707736525543143.post-7848529426646278447</id><published>2009-01-18T11:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T14:04:48.953-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eurotrip!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXObNazYnsI/AAAAAAAAAA8/LjACv7oKO3o/s1600-h/IMG_1946.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXObNazYnsI/AAAAAAAAAA8/LjACv7oKO3o/s320/IMG_1946.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292744641925914306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;So yes. I finally went to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Europe&lt;/span&gt;. I went to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Barcelona&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Madrid&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cadiz&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sevilla&lt;/span&gt;, and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Paris&lt;/span&gt;, as well. I went to London, as &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;well, but only for my scale. Europe is just incredible; amazing. All of the cities were awesome, and each one of them has its own beauty, cu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;lture, history; they cannot be compared. But I do have to say that the city I felt in love with was Barcelona, my first destination. It fits my personality pretty well. It's so bohemian. The nightlife, the bars... oh, the bars... impressive. I have never been to a city with such great bars. The one I liked the most was '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;El Bosque De Les Fades&lt;/span&gt;' (or '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;El Bosque De Las Hadas&lt;/span&gt;,' in Spanish). It's magical. You really feel like you're in some sort of forest. I can't really explain how great it is. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Catalunya &lt;/span&gt;is just amazing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXOdoiieMxI/AAAAAAAAABE/q5lHhOyW5Tw/s1600-h/IMG_0348.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 197px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXOdoiieMxI/AAAAAAAAABE/q5lHhOyW5Tw/s320/IMG_0348.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292747306882183954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Next destination, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Madrid&lt;/span&gt;. I have to admit I was skeptical with Madrid at first; I already had the image of Barcelona in my head as the only city I liked. Don't ask. Well, Madrid happened to be one of the cities I liked the most. The secon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;d one, I must say. Because like I said, each one of them h&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;as its own beauty. And the people I met in Madrid... th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;at just made my trip to Madrid perfect. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anita, Nuria, Bego, Andrea&lt;/span&gt; and the others, thank you so much for everything. You guys are great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXOgbYy5LnI/AAAAAAAAABU/W9Ba-PiW4Mw/s1600-h/IMG_0914.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXOgbYy5LnI/AAAAAAAAABU/W9Ba-PiW4Mw/s320/IMG_0914.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292750379463290482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Next stop, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cadiz&lt;/span&gt;! Wow... such a great city. Did you know Cadiz is the first city of Europe? Uh huh... quite impressive. The whole city was built over the ancient city of Gadez. That's why the inhabitants of Cadiz are called Gaditanos, not Caditanos. They also have the first roman am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;phitheater of Spain. The beach is amazing, and I was staying in an apartment next to the beach. How cool is that, huh? =P  Much love for Cadiz. And during &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;my stopover&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt; in Cadiz, I couldn't miss the chance to go to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sevilla&lt;/span&gt;. Stunning city, and its female inhabitants as well  ;). Gosh, I have to give the award of The City With The Most Beautiful Women in Spain. Wow! I just can't put it in words. And its monuments are very beautiful, as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXOg4mw_7bI/AAAAAAAAABc/BVdQ2-SFrrU/s1600-h/IMG_1554.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 297px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXOg4mw_7bI/AAAAAAAAABc/BVdQ2-SFrrU/s320/IMG_1554.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292750881429646770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Next city, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Paris&lt;/span&gt;. Oh oui. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;La Tour Eiffel, Le Musee du Louvre, L'Arc de Triomphe, Des Champs-Elysee&lt;/span&gt;... the most beautiful city of my whole trip. Its history and culture are unique, and its monuments incomparable. I had such a great time in that city, but it was stained by the cold. Oh yeah; it was literally freezing. But I enjoy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;ed my days in Paris. I just wouldn't do it again during winter.   =P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Paris, I went back to Barcelona-ona-ona, until the 12th, my departing day. I'll tell you a secret, but shh... I was gonna miss my flight that day just to stay over one more week, but I couldn't do it. Cold feet. Anyways, I can't complain at all; those were the best Christmas' vacations ever! Had too much fun.  =P&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Mr. Jheds for everything. La que nos montamos, papa! hahahahahahaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7619707736525543143-7848529426646278447?l=vics-crib.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/feeds/7848529426646278447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/01/eurotrip.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/7848529426646278447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7619707736525543143/posts/default/7848529426646278447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vics-crib.blogspot.com/2009/01/eurotrip.html' title='Eurotrip!'/><author><name>Victor Eduardo Quiroz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11635462378271335830</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXZrrk6bO5I/AAAAAAAAACc/1CnKRYEOSg4/S220/IMG_0620.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V3LZiGDG9A4/SXObNazYnsI/AAAAAAAAAA8/LjACv7oKO3o/s72-c/IMG_1946.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
