<?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-1364694332264441393</id><updated>2011-11-07T14:53:25.305-08:00</updated><category term='de ce?'/><category term='bla-bla-uri'/><category term='army'/><category term='V.I.P.'/><category term='poveste'/><category term='terra'/><category term='probleme'/><category term='oare?'/><category term='so what?'/><category term='soldier'/><title type='text'>Fabulatzii...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-2905786891304402954</id><published>2010-06-01T12:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T13:00:08.445-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soldier'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='de ce?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='army'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poveste'/><title type='text'>Wars   (12.04.2010)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;          "Don't go!"&lt;/b&gt;, she wanted to scream. She wanted to yell it, let the pain and fear leave her heart at the same time the words left her lips. But she couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to him, to either of them. She couldn't just pass him her fears and sorrow, she's not that selfish. She didn't want him to know how much she hated what he had to do, chose to do. She wasn't allowed to be against it, he wanted that and who is she, to be mad at that, to think it's wrong? She knew she couldn't blurt it out, and she didn't. But that was as far as her self control went. There was no way she could stop herself from thinking that, though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;         "Stay with me!"&lt;/b&gt;, she wanted to cry, but she didn't. She was restraining herself so much, she thought she was going to sprain her heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;        "Why do you have to go?"&lt;/b&gt;, but the answer to that question was already known by her. They each have to fight their own battles, and by themselves. They can only support each other along the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;       "Why does it have to be like this?"&lt;/b&gt;, but she wouldn't want it any other way. Because if that was the fairytale's reality check, then they both still drew the luck straw. If this was what ruined the perfection, then they still have some left in each other and the way they click : so good, so right, so perfect.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So many things she wanted him to know, but without her saying them. So much she wanted to say, but she couldn't give life to any. She wanted to cry, she thought something was wrong with her when she couldn't. Yet as they said their goodbyes, she broke down, cracked like a fragile, thin piece of glass. She chocked on the tears that came out with a cry, a cry full of pain, fear, desperation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;       Goodbye ... and their wars began&lt;/b&gt;. Each on his own different path, but with an ending that will measure up to the fights, and ending fit for their wars, and ending in each other's arms. And knowing that gave them enough strenght to march in the battle, knowing how sweet what waits them on the other side is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.moviemobsters.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/dear-john-5-2-10-kc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 570px; height: 380px;" src="http://www.moviemobsters.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/dear-john-5-2-10-kc.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;       Come back safe, private ... she's waiting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://s3.amazonaws.com/picable/2009/07/14/1167041_Army-Life-in-Poetry_620.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 620px; height: 412px;" src="http://s3.amazonaws.com/picable/2009/07/14/1167041_Army-Life-in-Poetry_620.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-2905786891304402954?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/2905786891304402954/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=2905786891304402954' title='3 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/2905786891304402954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/2905786891304402954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2010/06/wars-12042010.html' title='Wars   (12.04.2010)'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-4565104737744858321</id><published>2010-01-06T05:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T06:05:24.180-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled poem (Love)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;06.01.2010&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Winter. Snow. New beginnings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Could this be a dream, or is it reality?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So many thoughts, such odd feelings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What could it be? I'd happilly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Embrace it all. As long as you're by my side&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My entire future is such a beautiful sight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And yet, i can't help but wonder&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What this new, ecstatic feeling could be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I pace back and forth, i try and ponder,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yet all i think about, all i say and see,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is this wonderful boy, and wishing he'd be in front of me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My every dream, every wish and desire,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Materialized from nowhere, in an instant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Poor heart of mine, not pumping blood no more,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead, it's pumping fire.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Heart jumping, stoping, beating faster.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mind racing, over thinking and confused.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I became a slave of my heart, instead of being its master.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And yet, no matter how i think about it, i'm amused.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The mind might be saying NO, but the heart YELLS "YES!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This boy, dear girl, is nothing but a bless!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I never follow ration, what i do is for my heart's content.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It started with a "Hi", continued with a laughter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Went on with a crush, kept going for a while,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Began falling for him, each day faster and harder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Until i kept on, every day, for no reason, to smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy ending, or end in pure disaster?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't know; right now i just started to forget&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The past. I want a brand new start,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A new life of which he's part.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One thing i know for sure,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One thing for which there is no cure:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He'll forever hold the other half, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The key to the real me,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The key to my heart.                             &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;  &lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-4565104737744858321?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/4565104737744858321/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=4565104737744858321' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/4565104737744858321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/4565104737744858321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2010/01/untitled-poem-love.html' title='Untitled poem (Love)'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-5507064918876452732</id><published>2010-01-06T05:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T05:50:17.260-08:00</updated><title type='text'>YOU</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;11.12.2009&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                This is odd and new. I never fell for someone the way i did for you, neither did i ever feel what i'm feeling for you. It scares me if i think about it. So i choose not to, and just enjoy it. I wish i could make you understand what i feel, lend you my heart for just one day, but not even i know for sure. I'm not that good with words.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                 Everyone knows something is going on. My friends know me well enough to tell i'm in love. Apparently i have a certain glow. I don't know how i look from the outside, but i know what i feel inside, and i haven't been this happy in a very long time. I forgot how to smile naturally, always puting up a fake smile, faking happiness and joy. I was getting used to it actually. It was normal for me to be sad and lonely, to be on my own. So many bad things happened, i forgot what good luck is. Then you came along and turned me upside down. I started hoping, being optimistic. You were a gift. God's way of apologising for what he put me through.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                My friends are thankful to you for bringing back my old self. The always smiling, funny, loving, suporting me. You fixed me. You have no idea how much you did for me. "I Love You" is something&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i rarely say. If i do, most of the times is meaningless. I might love my friends, yet i never tell them that. I love YOU, and i told you that. Coming from me, it's a big statement. And that's because i mean it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                You make me truly happy. I smile everytime i think of you, and i think of you all the time. You give me butterflies, make my heart do backflips, stop and speed up, all at the same time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                I don't, nor can i know for sure, if you feel the same. But i'm done overthinking every little thing. I'm happy, you make me happy. You are all i want and all i need. That's all i have to know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;               If it's going to snow soon...then Santa is real. I asked him for you, and i have you now. Or should i say you have me? Yes, that's more accurate. I am yours now. You are the first and last thing on my mind, and the only one in between. You're my drung, i could never get enough of you.  All i wish to ask from you is for you to keep feeding my addiction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;               You changed something in me. Or better said, you brought back something i thought was forever gone. And i'm very thankful for that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;               I should stop writing now, it's getting too long. And i know that if i read everything what i wrote, most of it won't even make sense. I know i failed at my attempt to express my feelings towards you. Yet i think it can all be summed up to this : &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;You're my knight in shining armour. All i want, all i need. You are my heart's addiction.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-5507064918876452732?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/5507064918876452732/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=5507064918876452732' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/5507064918876452732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/5507064918876452732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2010/01/you.html' title='YOU'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-978942266941203122</id><published>2010-01-06T04:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T05:24:43.097-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch me ! ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;03.12.2009&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                 I fell for you. I fell without a safety net, and i thought i was going to hit the ground and hit it hard. You caught me just in time. How did you do that? Did u plan it? Did u feel me slipping away?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Either way, you timed it perfectly. I knew i wasn't wrong to trust you. You make me feel safe. You're my cup of hot chocolate and hugs, the product of my imagination. That's what i think. Otherwise&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;how could i have found everything i was looking for, in one person? I am ever so picky, yet all i wanted was to find two traits in someone and i would have been happy, would have settled. ... Then &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;you came along and turned my world upside down. You were the first to make me fall without me even realising it. Even if you hadn't catch me, i still would have not regret it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                 I made you. You are mine, you belong to me. I am your creator. Everything about you is my wish, my desire, my hope. One, two, three... but ALL? To have EVERYthing i ever thought of? How?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why? Or better yet, why now? ... I think i know why know. God thought i suffered enough, he decided to stop playing me like a toy, stop testing every hurtful thing on me, and finally send me some&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;good on my way. And oh, what a present you are. Yet i'm still careful. I'm afraid of losing you. What if he decides to take you back? What if he realises i don't deserve you?... Or worse, I wake up and &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;you're not there. Waking up to a world where you never were. I couldn't bear it. Wounds that haven't healed still bleed. Having you taken away from me for good, not being able to see you even&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;from distance....would split me in half.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;               Or maybe....just maybe, you're the angel i've been waiting for, for so long. Maybe you're meant to fix the broken me. To hold me and allow me to be weak, to trust again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;               Catch me or let me fall....either way, i believe in everything, now that i've met you. My heart and mind's perfect creation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What have you done to me and what will you do? I have no choice but to hand myself to you, blindly. I'm in your hands now. The power is all yours,.... to crush me, or to protect me. Whichever you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;choose, i won't blame you. Crush me if you wish, but i would still feel the warm touch of your hands before you do so. That makes me a winner eitherway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-978942266941203122?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/978942266941203122/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=978942266941203122' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/978942266941203122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/978942266941203122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2010/01/catch-me.html' title='Catch me ! ...'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-6289860113746978066</id><published>2009-11-06T04:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T04:16:53.738-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frunza copacului</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Primavara. Un copac renaste.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Langa el verdeata&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pe care un miel o paste.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mai incolo zace o para malaiata.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Printre ramurile incretite, indoite,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cu urme de zapada si colturi albite,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se zareste un mugur de frunza.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ma amuza.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vara. Mugurul a devenit frunza.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A crescut. E mare.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ma plimb. Caut o scuza&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sa o privesc, e o chemare&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Catre necunoscutul familiar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Toamna. Un gust amar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Imi incearca mintea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Frunza, nehalita,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;S-a intins mai mult ca suratele sale.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O floare se leapada de petale.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Galbena si trufasa, frunza se leaga dulce&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In bata vantului. Copacul plange.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;El stie ce va urma.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu refuz sa stiu continuarea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Iarna. Copacul zgribulit isi plange copiii.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Indoit de durere, se pleaca la pamant&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Si prin vantul rece se aude plansul mut.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ramurile acoperite cu zapada par pale.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dau albeata de-o parte. Sunt goale.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pe jos, sub ramura incretita, indoit,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E frunza mea, albita.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Numai respira. Ciclul ei s-a terminat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cu sufletul crapat, ma abat&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;De la drumul spre casa mea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ma intreaba inima, nelinistita :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oare anotimpul meu va fi tot iarna?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oare voi fi la fel de linistita?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-6289860113746978066?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/6289860113746978066/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=6289860113746978066' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/6289860113746978066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/6289860113746978066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2009/11/frunza-copacului.html' title='Frunza copacului'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-6189125561842810408</id><published>2009-11-06T03:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T04:10:36.509-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lonely hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;                        She was staring blankly out the window. Her gaze focused now and then on the trees, the buildings, the raindrops on the window. But her gaze was changing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Her eyes sparkled with happiness and joy, with sadness and sorrow, with maturity and childness. The only constant taste, that never left the dancing and changing sparkles &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;in her eyes, was hope. Sometimes dirty, muddy, corupted hope, at times pure and wishful, yet hope nevertheless.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                        She kept wondering what the next day will bring, what the future will be like. She tried hard to think of the present and hope for the future, yet her recent past left deep&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;scars that still bleeded. It was a rough road that still hadn't ended. She learned a lot of useful lessons that will help her during her lifetime, but at what cost?  She learned them by herself,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; experienced them in the hardest of times.  Not pleasant feelings, those of loneliness, abandonment and fear.  She had times when she thought the wounds had healed,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; but when she crashed into another wall and felt another brick fall on her, she felt the wounds bleed again,  harder and faster with every new blow. What could she do? Just wipe it away and hope it will stop.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                       As she was pressing her face against the cold hardness of the glass, she felt lonely and misunderstood. Two feelings that have been present constantly for the last year. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She's starting to learn how to deal with them, yet it still surprises her every now and then.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                      One lesson that she learned was that you can never count on anybody, no matter what and who, it will always end in painful dissapointment. Yet this knowledge seemed to make&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;her feel less depressed as time passed by. She's learning how to smile again. She's learning that as long as she still has herself, the game goes on, the road doesn't end. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;As long as she still has herself, there is still hope.... sometimes dirty, muddy, corupted hope, at times pure and wishful, yet hope nevertheless.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-6189125561842810408?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/6189125561842810408/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=6189125561842810408' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/6189125561842810408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/6189125561842810408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2009/11/lonely-hope.html' title='Lonely hope'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-3518147098902872312</id><published>2009-11-06T03:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T03:50:36.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nebuna visare</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Nebuna visare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;   &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;De ce sa muncesti toata viata&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   Pentru un viitor banal,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   Viitor c-un gust amar,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   Doar pentru a obtinea pacea?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   De ce sa faci pe plac lumii,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   Sa urmezi fiecare cerinta,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   Sa asculti fiecare fiinta,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   De ce sa consideri nebunii?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;    "Daca viata iti da lamai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;    Tu fa limonada."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;     Dar daca eu vreau doar apa?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;     Refuz sa urmez nebuni.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;     Eu insumi sunt nebuna,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;    Sperand neincetat, cu ardoare,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;    Sperand la multe. Se pare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;    Ca sper zi de zi la o viata mai buna.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;    Sperand zi de zi, tot mai mult,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;    La visarea transpunsa-n real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;    - Scapare de prezentul banal-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;    Glasul meu nu va sta linistit sau tacut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-3518147098902872312?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/3518147098902872312/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=3518147098902872312' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/3518147098902872312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/3518147098902872312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2009/11/nebuna-visare.html' title='Nebuna visare'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-8206863860896953816</id><published>2009-11-06T03:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T03:38:41.342-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow already, will yah?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: larger;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;  &lt;/strong&gt;   It's so cold outside that your hands and face go numb in just 5 min. Yet, for some odd reason, &lt;strong&gt;it's raining. It should snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          I &lt;u&gt;love&lt;/u&gt; snow. It's one of the few simple things that can make me blithefully happy. Whenever It snows I'm like a little kid in a candy store&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Some may think it's stupid to be so happy over such a normal and, to some, annoying thing. Heck, even my friends think I'm mental xD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         But I believe that once you can get happiness and energy from little things in life, then you can really enjoy your achievements.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         I like spring and autumn for their colors, summer for the holiday, but it's winter i love. I guess it's because &lt;strong&gt;winter makes me feel like&lt;br /&gt;a little kid again, back when life was simple and pink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         I could never get enough of the Christmas spirit and the feeling it gives me. And i could never get bored with snow. It's pure, soft.... it's our&lt;br /&gt;world on a smaller scale : no snowflake resembles another.&lt;strong&gt; Never two snowflakes will be the same. Isn't that the same way we are?&lt;/strong&gt; No two people&lt;br /&gt;will be the same, no matter how similiar they might seem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Every season has something that brings out the kid in me, not just winter. And I don't want this to ever change.&lt;strong&gt; Once you forget about your inner child,&lt;br /&gt;a part of you dies.&lt;/strong&gt; The best part,  the one that lets you get hyped up about the smallest things in life, the one that loves to play, to smile, to laugh, to make&lt;br /&gt;others happy, to have friends, the one that can cry and be angry because the skateboard broke but can easily get over a fight or smile when hard times come.&lt;br /&gt;         Yet one should always remember that there's a &lt;u&gt;huge difference&lt;/u&gt; between being &lt;u&gt;childish&lt;/u&gt; and being &lt;u&gt;immature.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     oh well...enough with the random rambling. It's getting to long.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;    One last thing before i go: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: larger;"&gt;remember that nothing is as bad as it seems since there's at least 2 sides to everything. And that after black clouds and thunder storms, always comes a colorful rainbow and the sun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: larger;"&gt;:-)   ^.^y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-8206863860896953816?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/8206863860896953816/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=8206863860896953816' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/8206863860896953816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/8206863860896953816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2009/11/snow-already-will-yah.html' title='Snow already, will yah?!'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-2127109922203860020</id><published>2008-07-09T02:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T06:28:30.643-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='V.I.P.'/><title type='text'>fans unite!!! =]</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.stephenlynch.com/new%20images/lynch19.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.stephenlynch.com/new%20images/lynch19.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mda, nu am mai scris demult. Acum sper sa se uite lumea la postul asta. Nu stiu cate persoane au auzit de Stephen Lynch [cei care nu au auzit, sa il caute pe youtube]. E un tip genial, face stand-up comedy pe muzica [singing-comedian] si as vrea sa ajunga si prin Europa...ok, mai exact, in Romania. Nu stiu cate sanse am, dar sper sa gasesc destui fani pt un concert..sau mai multe :-D si poate reusim sa ii convingem [pe el, pe manager, compania de discuri, dunnow :-?? pe orice il poate aduce :-P]. O sa fac un blog special pt fanii lui din Romania. Stay tunned si lasati mesaj cei kre ati auzit de el, carora va place si ati vrea sa mergeti la un concert. thnx anticipat =]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-2127109922203860020?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/2127109922203860020/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=2127109922203860020' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/2127109922203860020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/2127109922203860020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2008/07/fans-unite.html' title='fans unite!!! =]'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-2955620671899405096</id><published>2007-12-15T10:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T10:55:05.419-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LEAPSA</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;BEST&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. Male friend: Filip&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. Female friend: Mirela, Theo, Pissy, ...mai multe persoane. Majoritatea colege de clasa&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. Vacation: turul Europei [eram mik, dar tot a fost grozav! am fost in Disney land Paris!]&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Age: 16-20-30 ani&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5.Memory: toate taberele in care am fost! :X&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;WORST&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. Time of day: dimineata si cand ajung la scoala...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. Day of the week: marti si miercuri k am ore multe&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. Food: piftie&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Memory: clasa a8-a&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;LAST&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. Person you saw: mama se pune?! k dak nu... pissy si pucca&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. Person you talked to on the phone: Theo&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. Hugged: Feefy&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Text messaged: Mirela&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5: IM: Filip&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;YESTERDAY&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. What did you do: m-am trezit la 10 [desi trebuia la 7]... am iesit cu dixy afara, m-am pregatit de sc, m-am dus la sc, am dat teza, am fost in pauze cu colegele la o tigara, am fost la 34, m-am dus aksa, am intrat pe net, m-am uitat la h2o [ :X ], am iesit cu dixy afara, m-am uitat la h2o [ :X :)) ], m-am culcat &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. Who were you with: ah lume multa! colegii+ alte persoane din moisil&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. Bad/Good day: relativ nasjpa k am dat teza la engleza, dar dupa a fost ok&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Lose something: nope&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. Fall out with someone: nope...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;TODAY&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. What are you doing now: fac leapsa asta [k m-a batut filip la cap], ascult "no ordinary girl" si dansez pe scaun :))&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. Today in general: am fost la cumparaturi...pt cadouri... am ajuns aksa si am dormit :))&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. Wearing: sosete, papuci, bluza, blugi si casti :))&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. What did you eat for lunch: fornetti k am plekt la 10 de aksa si m-am intors la 1 jumate&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. Better than yesterday: cu siguranta, desi ma doare capul :-/&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;TOMORROW&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. Is: duminik&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. Got any plans: dau cu aspiratorul si spal pe jos si imi invat la lat[r]ina k luni dau teza! bleah&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. Getting Lucky: huh?! no way! doar trebuie sa fac curat in casa &gt;:P&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Dislikes about tomorrow: faptul k tre sa fac curat in casa, k trebuie sa invat la latina, k trebuie sa o suport pe mama :))&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. Do you have work: oh da&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;FAVORITES&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. Number: 3&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. Song: "no ordinary girl"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. Colour: albastru, rosu, roz&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. State: nope&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;CURRENTLY&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. With someone: nup&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. Missing someone: da, colegii :))&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. Mood: not in the mood&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Wanting: vacanta de iarna, carcasa pt telefon, cadouri, si un boboc de la etajul meu :)) &gt;:)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;De la: PheePhee. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Se duce: la dracu, k nu mai am cui sa i-o trimit :))&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-2955620671899405096?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/2955620671899405096/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=2955620671899405096' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/2955620671899405096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/2955620671899405096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2007/12/best-1.html' title='LEAPSA'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-3186253698887586681</id><published>2007-12-11T12:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T12:25:42.364-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='terra'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='probleme'/><title type='text'>Subiecte</title><content type='html'>Iarna. Decembrie. Este foarte frig si ploua. Frunze nu mai exista. S-au ingalbenit si au cazut demult. Inca din prima luna de toamna. Ciudat. Un alt semn al bolii de care sufera Terra : incalzirea globala. Totusi lumea refuza sa vada. Mi-as dori sa pot  sa orbesc si eu, dar pacatul meu este ca realizez gravitatea situatiei, dar si a faptului ca sunt doar un mormoloc intr-un ocean de pesti. Mic, nesemnificativ si lipsit de orice putere pentru a realize ceva, o schimbare, o actiune, o operatie de redare a vazului celorlalti pesti.&lt;br /&gt;                  Iarna. Decembrie. In curand vine Mosu’. Ninsori s-au anuntat, in Bucuresti, dar ca de fiecare data parerile sunt impartite. Va fi o iarna usoara, va fi o iarna grea. Ideea comuna : va fi iarna. Poate ultima iarna daca lucururile continua in acest fel. Dar iar ma abat de la principalul subiect si ma indrept catre handicapul major al lumii.    ….   Mi-ar placea sa ninga. Multa zapada. Albul reprezinta copilarie, inocenta si lipsa de griji. As vrea sa fiu iar un copil. Si intr-un fel chiar sunt. Dar maturitatea omoara, prea mult cunostiinte intineaza iar realitatea imbolnaveste sufletul si mintea. Dar iarna totul se schimba. Vantul dezlipeste lucrurile ce te apasa pe suflet si te impiedica sa zambesti, ploaia le spala iar ninoarea iti ofera un nou inceput, o noua sansa de a lua lucrurile de la capat, de a le indrepta. Dar ce o sa se intample cand iarna nu va mai fi? Cand nu vor exista decat vara si toamna? Caldura sufocanta si ploaie distrugatoare? Oare voi fi una din persoanele care le va povesti nepotilor ei ca odinioara au fost patru anotimpuri? Ca trei luni puteai sa vezi cum inmuguresc copacii, infloresc florile si aveai timp sa auzi cum creste iarba? Sau ca odata, candva, din cer cadeau flori minuscule de gheata ce se adaposteau la fereastra si se culcau pe jos si peste… tot si creau o patura moale? Si ca acele flori se numeau fulgi iar patura - omat, zapada? Si ca sublimul moment, fenomen, se numea ninsoare? Nu. Nu vreau sa fiu. Refuz sa fiu. In incercarea mea disperata de a onchide ochii am realizat ca nu pot face altceva decat sa incerc sa le redau celorlalti vazul. Poate ca de data asta eu sunt cea sanatoasa si restul cei bolnavi. Orbirea este o boala grea, un handicap major. Oare eu sunt singura care realizeaza acest lucru?&lt;br /&gt;                 Si uite asa, din vorba in vorba, am realizat ca pixul si mana mea aveau un plan bine pus la punct. Subiectul adevarat este cel pe care eu il credeam second. Nici nu mai stiu care vroiam sa fie primul subiect. Dar stiu ca le multumesc si le apreciez complotul. O alta incercare de a orbi, dar nu reusesc decat sa vad mai mult, mai apasat, mai grav.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-3186253698887586681?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/3186253698887586681/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=3186253698887586681' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/3186253698887586681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/3186253698887586681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2007/12/subiecte.html' title='Subiecte'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-9055163215354035062</id><published>2007-11-05T14:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T14:45:00.577-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poveste'/><title type='text'>Tzar. Eu sunt. Noi suntem. Noi am fost.</title><content type='html'>Ma suna. El ma suna. Tocmai el. De ce? De ce acum si de ce tocmai el? Astept. Poate a gresit numarul sau poate se razgandeste. Dar dupa 2 minute telefonul inca suna. Reticenta, il iau si ma uit la el de parca ar fi ceva extra-terestrial. Raspund si cu mare grija si frica il tin la ureche. Dupa vreme de cateva secunde care mi s-au parut o eternitate, ma intreaba ce fac si daca ies sa ma plimb. Parca automat ii raspund "da" si imi mai spune ceva dupa care inchide. MI-a luat ceva timp sa realizez ce a zis. Pret de cateva minute am stat ca o piatra: nemiscata, cu mintea alba, golita. Mi-am revenit printr-o zvacnire si am reprodus ultimele lui cuvinte. "Pa". Ok, asta era normal sa zica. Dar ce a zis inainte? "Ne vedem in curand". Adica? "In 15 minute sa cobori. Te voi astepta". Aha, acum totul se leaga. .... CE?! Realizez la ce am zis eu "da" si ma grabesc sa ma pregatesc. Ies repede afara si il vad. Chiar ma astepta. Nu pot sa-mi stapaesc zambetul ce lua nastere pe buzele si in ochii mei. Cat am stat impreuna, in ziua aceea, parca totul era perfect, nimeni si nimic nu mai exista in afara de noi doi. Saruturile durau parca secole, la fel si imbratisarile noastre. Parca eram un intreg. Formam un "unul". Nu mai eram "unii". Tot ce faceam era pentru celalalt. Despartirea a fost usoara pentu ca am invatat sa ma bucur de clipele petrecute, nu sa regret cele ce nu au avut loc. Sper la inca o zi asemanatoare, dar voi renunta curand pentru ca nu imi place sa astept, sa ma hranesc cu speranta zilei de maine. A fost frumos ce a fost. A fost si gata. Poate nici nu va ma fi. ... Zambesc. Cu gandul la el. Zambesc si trec mai departe, fericita de amintirile acumulate si de clipele de nulitate spatiala, nulitate absurda si fericita.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-9055163215354035062?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/9055163215354035062/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=9055163215354035062' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/9055163215354035062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/9055163215354035062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2007/11/tzar-eu-sunt-noi-suntem-noi-am-fost.html' title='Tzar. Eu sunt. Noi suntem. Noi am fost.'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-5765501952121309741</id><published>2007-11-03T12:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T14:43:21.370-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oare?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poveste'/><title type='text'>Oare basmele devin realitate?!</title><content type='html'>" Se vad, se privesc, se indragostesc. Superficial poate sau pentru totdeauna. Petrec pauza cu prietenii lor si se prefac ca ii asculta. Nu-si pot dezlipii privirile. S-au incurcat. S-au incurcat in priviri, in zambete, in holbari, in intrebari, in framantari. Urmatoarea pauza trec unul pe langa celalalt si se ating din greseala....lui ii cade mapa....ei ii cade lumea. Totul se invarte si nimic nu mai e la fel, simte ca trebuie sa faca ceva dar nu stie ce...si oricum....i-ar fi frica. Il asteapta pe el sa faca primul pas. Dar si lui ii este frica. Asa trec zile in care suspina unul dupa celalalt in tacere...in umbra...ascuns. Ea cedeaza, se duce nervoasa la el si ii tipa ""Te iubesc! Nu vezi, nu observi, nu realizezi? Sau nu vrei?"" &lt;te&gt;El zambeste dragastos si cu o miscare brusca si totusi delicata o trage spre el si o saruta. Ea tace si intepeneste, simte un fior de gheata fierbinte strabatand-o. Corpul ingheata, inima fierbe. Sarutul se termina. Se privesc, tacuti, si zambesc. Lumea din jur disparuse. Se plac. Se iubesc. Se vor...Se au. "&lt;br /&gt;O adevarata poveste de dragoste....dar ca orice lucru perfect...nu exista. Nimic nu este ca in poveste.. nu in realitate. Lucrurile NU se intampla asa, povestea NU decurge dupa acelasi fir narativ si personajele NU reactioneaza identic. De ce dragostea este asa de complicata? Dureroasa? Fluturii in stomac se transforma in molii care ulterior te vor manca, atunci cand vei realiza k visele nu se implinesc mereu si ca Fat-Frumos al tau are alta Printesa. Tu vei ramane Cenusareasa ce nu se va transforma niciodata in printesa, la care nu isi face aparitia Zana si care nu este ajutata de porumbei sa separe realitatea de vis. Si asa se destrama lumea ta,... cade si, -ironic-, nu se opreste... Exact ca intr-o poveste.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-5765501952121309741?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/5765501952121309741/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=5765501952121309741' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/5765501952121309741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/5765501952121309741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2007/11/oare-basmele-devin-realitate.html' title='Oare basmele devin realitate?!'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-6999933532014063902</id><published>2007-11-03T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-03T09:35:39.572-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bla-bla-uri'/><title type='text'>Ninge...!...?</title><content type='html'>Ninge!... sau poate nu....nu afara, dar in inimea mea de copil naiv, ninge. Craciun este in fiecare zi atunci cand ma scol si primul lucru pe care il vad este cerul alb. Ma ridic din pat cu o falsa speranta ca sunt cadouri sub brad...dar nu este nici un brad, nici cadouri, nici macar zapada. Sper ca anul asta sa fie zapada, altfel Mosu' va trebui sa-si ia motor. De Craciun vreau si eu ceva. Nu multe lucruri si nu extravagante. Vreau sa ma distrez cu prietenii mei, sa ma inteleg bine cu mama si SA NINGA. In primul rand sa ninga. Pentru ca ninsoarea din sufletul meu si cea din The Sims 2 Seasons parca nu ajunge. Vreau zapada, vreau albul acela imaculat si neatins [nu acela spalacit si murdar de la rotile tirurilor care trec] si, in primul rand, vreau puritatea, naivitatea si credinta ca nu exista rau si falsitate pe lume....&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;vreau inapoi copilaria&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-6999933532014063902?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/6999933532014063902/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=6999933532014063902' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/6999933532014063902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/6999933532014063902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2007/11/ninge.html' title='Ninge...!...?'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-6500796425586544523</id><published>2007-10-30T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T14:38:36.127-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='de ce?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poveste'/><title type='text'>prostul...</title><content type='html'>Ea il priveste si se gandeste cum poate cineva ca el exista. E parca desprins dintr-un vis de-al ei, are tot ce isi doreste, ii ofera tot ce vrea.....mai putin dragoste. Ea il iubeste orbeste, il adora si ar face orice pentru el, dar el nu stie asta....el o iubeste pe CEALALTA. E confuza, nu intelege, se intreaba cum, unde, cand si mai ales DE CE. De ce o iubeste pe Cealalta cand aceea il dispretuieste? De ce nu renunta?...sau nu stie cum? Il uraste, ar vrea sa-i dea o lectie. Tocmai de aceea se abtine, cu greu, sa nu-i vorbeasca, sa nu-l priveasca, sa nu-i zambeasca. Si totusi il priveste...pe ascuns, cu coada ochiului. Si ii zambeste, rade la glumele lui...dar pe ascuns, in sufletul ei, rar pe fata. Asteapta si nu asteapta mult...Cealalta izbucneste. S-a saturat sa-l auda, s-a saturat sa-i vorbeasca, sa-l asculte, nu ii accepta glumele si nu inghite comentariile lui. Cum...? Cand ea ar da orice sa fie in locul Celeilalte? Sa-i vorbeasca numai ei, sa o manance din priviri, sa simta dragostea lui cum ii alina sufletul. Dar se multumeste cu briza rece de razbunare si de satisfactie la privirea scenei care stia ca va urma...mai devreme sau mai tarziu. Dar a venit foarte devreme, si nu a fost o singura scena, ci 3 una dupa alta. Zambetul ei inghetat ii lumina fata cu o ura si o placere sadica de neimaginat in timp ce toti de la masa taceau...o tacere pe care si ea ar fi gasit-o stanjenitoare si insuportabila pana atunci si in alte circumstante...dar acum era fericita. Fericita ca in sfarsit, incet, Cealalta il va respinge, ii va arata, chiar si fara sa vrea, cat de mult il uraste si astfel, spera ea, va renunta la ideea absurda de a o mai vrea pe Cealalta si va vede dorinta si iubirea incomensurabila din ochii si din sufletul ei si va realiza ca si el o iubeste. Poate asta nu se va intampla niciodata, dar ea continua sa-si duca planul la bun sfarsit si anume de a incerca, disperata, sa-i deschida lui ochii.....ea stie ca el este alesul ei....el de ce nu o stie? Poate pentru ca nu i-a spus....dar nici nu vrea sa-i spuna....nu vrea sa stice prietenia de acare are disperata nevoie, desi ii face rau....are nevoie disperata de-al stii,de al avea alaturi de ea....asa ca prefera sa taca, sa inghita, atata timp cat el primeste palme de la Cealalta, durerea ei este alinata....pentru moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-6500796425586544523?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/6500796425586544523/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=6500796425586544523' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/6500796425586544523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/6500796425586544523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2007/10/prostul_30.html' title='prostul...'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1364694332264441393.post-8802861286157689105</id><published>2007-10-30T13:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T14:35:45.425-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='so what?'/><title type='text'>my first time ever!</title><content type='html'>uite-ma aici, pe un blog. Nu am crezut vreodata ca voi ajunge sa postez tot ce simt, ce gandesc, ce am si ce vreau. Am fost foarte reticenta...si totusi la indemnarile unui prieten, am ajuns aici. Ciudat nu? Inca sunt reticenta cu privire la exprimarea mea libera...mi-e frica...frica de pareri, de ce voi scrie, daca va fi bine, daca nu va fi... nici nu stiu de ce mi-e frica. Nu sunt genul de persoana careia sa-i pese de parerile altora....si totusi mi-e frica. Voi incerca, ma voi stradui...si voi vedea ce va iesi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1364694332264441393-8802861286157689105?l=fabulatzii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/feeds/8802861286157689105/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1364694332264441393&amp;postID=8802861286157689105' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/8802861286157689105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1364694332264441393/posts/default/8802861286157689105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabulatzii.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-first-time-ever.html' title='my first time ever!'/><author><name>Ichigo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16526081377223763341</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7gRpB87lTko/SpbauVpX9HI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/S9Kbjj4DRD0/S220/zDSC021044.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
