<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524</id><updated>2009-11-11T08:04:35.159+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lady Patsy's Chambers</title><subtitle type='html'>A 40-something single woman who is still very much young at heart gives her perspective on life minus the rose coloured glasses.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>48</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-1664537803316472550</id><published>2009-01-03T17:23:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T17:27:59.412+07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm in charge of my own happiness!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/SV89QCgBvDI/AAAAAAAAAaU/VtvxNNGAf3Y/s1600-h/EnjoyingLife2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287011833314655282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/SV89QCgBvDI/AAAAAAAAAaU/VtvxNNGAf3Y/s400/EnjoyingLife2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It’s the beginning of a new year, and for most of us it marks the start of a new chapter in our life … one which we hope will have a happy ending. What do most of us hope for at the start of a new year? The most common wishes are for health, wealth, happiness and love. And yes, I’ve received many well-intended wishes of “May you find the man of your dreams this year”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love life right now is non-existent and I really don’t know if I need one. It just seems that all the good men are taken or married. And I have met quite some interesting ones who might be great to date, but when it comes to love, it has to be the right guy; someone who’s romantic, intelligent, with a sense of humour and really, personality overrules good looks for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for now, romance can wait. I have different priorities. Life is too short to waste time and I intend to savour and enjoy each moment of it. I want to forget issues of the past and focus on the present and the future. I want to stop being envious of others and be thankful for who I am and what I have. I want to spend more time with my friends and loved ones because I know they will always be there for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to stop dreaming and start doing. I want to seriously pursue my ambition of writing a book and seeing it published. I want to travel and see the world. I want to smile and laugh more. I want to do something good for others. I want to wake up each morning and thank God for yet another beautiful day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, this is not a New Year resolution but merely creating my own happiness and taking charge of my life. Yes, I believe this is going to be a good year indeed!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-1664537803316472550?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/1664537803316472550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=1664537803316472550' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/1664537803316472550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/1664537803316472550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-in-charge-of-my-own-happiness.html' title='I&apos;m in charge of my own happiness!'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/SV89QCgBvDI/AAAAAAAAAaU/VtvxNNGAf3Y/s72-c/EnjoyingLife2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-3455415853839969273</id><published>2008-05-27T11:23:00.006+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:49:59.261+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr Right ... He's worth waiting for!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/SDuORett3TI/AAAAAAAAASw/ODzp59DeDvo/s1600-h/Waiting-for-Mr-Right_298x187.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204910225310473522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/SDuORett3TI/AAAAAAAAASw/ODzp59DeDvo/s400/Waiting-for-Mr-Right_298x187.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/SDuNPett3RI/AAAAAAAAASg/CJkTYesxZJo/s1600-h/Mr+Right.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204909091439107346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/SDuNPett3RI/AAAAAAAAASg/CJkTYesxZJo/s400/Mr+Right.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first question almost everyone asked me when I returned from my overseas holiday was whether I found that someone special while I was there. Well … seeing that I was only there for 2 weeks coupled with the fact that I was not exactly on a husband-hunting mission, I’m afraid that I disappointed quite a number of romantic souls who were quite certain that I’d meet my Mr Right during my trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I’ve heard of numerous holiday romances – how single girls go to some foreign country and end up meeting their future spouses. Well good for them and while I admit that I occasionally feel a tinge of envy when I hear such stories, I’m certainly not going to loose any sleep over the fact that I returned home empty-handed (with the exception of the souvenirs, of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve often asked myself when will I ever meet that elusive Mr Right, or if I’ll ever meet him. When I was growing up, I had this romantic fantasy of a beautiful wedding gown, a handsome groom, a lovely church wedding, joyous music and songs and where everyone would be so happy for me. Years went by and I stood aside while my friends started getting married one by one and starting their own family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly that fantasy started to fade away bit by bit and if you ask me today, I can honestly tell you that I can’t remember what that beautiful gown looked liked or what music was it that I had wanted for my wedding. In fact, I vaguely recall ever having such a fantasy because it has receded into a far, distant place in my brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not bitter or miserable when people so much younger than me share their joy and happiness in having found the love of their life or talk about their wedding plans. Yes, I’m happy for them … happy that they need not go through that uncertainty of life – that uncertainty of wondering if they will ever find the right person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the same time I feel sad when I see couples taking their relationships for granted. I ache inside when I hear people say hurtful things about their partners over trivial matters. I feel like screaming at them and telling them that they are lucky to even have someone in their life – and that they should respect and value that person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My well meaning friends who were so sure that I’d be among the first to get married are surprised to hear that I’m still single. At first they show me sympathy, then they accuse me of being picky and finally they move on to telling me that I’m lucky to be single and not saddled with a husband, kids &amp;amp; in-laws.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times I do count myself lucky to be single and enjoy the freedom that I have and at other times I feel lonely and wish that there was someone special in my life. And I do sometimes worry that age is catching up with me and wonder if I’ll spend my golden years alone in some home for the elderly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But once again, I’m not going to loose any sleep over this and am gonna take it one day at a time. If my Mr Right is out there somewhere, he will find me someday … and I’m going to wait patiently because if he is the ONE, then he’s definitely worth waiting for. And if for some reason God did not allocate a Mr Right for me, I’m gonna continue enjoying being who I am because there is still a purpose to my life and I intend to fulfil every second of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-3455415853839969273?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/3455415853839969273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=3455415853839969273' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/3455415853839969273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/3455415853839969273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2008/05/mr-right-hes-worth-waiting-for.html' title='Mr Right ... He&apos;s worth waiting for!'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/SDuORett3TI/AAAAAAAAASw/ODzp59DeDvo/s72-c/Waiting-for-Mr-Right_298x187.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-1016115964173627280</id><published>2008-05-03T22:54:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:49:59.928+07:00</updated><title type='text'>How y'all doin'?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/SByLMFK7yBI/AAAAAAAAASA/3tbs_6cu8KI/s1600-h/Pat+and+the+flag+-+blog.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196181109741438994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/SByLMFK7yBI/AAAAAAAAASA/3tbs_6cu8KI/s400/Pat+and+the+flag+-+blog.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I am on holiday. I have nothing to say. Back to you &lt;a href="http://www.jacquiscurve.blogspot.com/"&gt;Jacqui&lt;/a&gt;. :P&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/1995795166575426524-1016115964173627280?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/1016115964173627280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=1016115964173627280' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/1016115964173627280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/1016115964173627280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2008/05/how-yall-doin.html' title='How y&apos;all doin&apos;?'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/SByLMFK7yBI/AAAAAAAAASA/3tbs_6cu8KI/s72-c/Pat+and+the+flag+-+blog.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-8130350835552402209</id><published>2008-03-10T09:22:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:00.281+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Voice of the People</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R9ScC8dRKLI/AAAAAAAAAR4/y6wsh-102ks/s1600-h/malaysia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175933446158100658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R9ScC8dRKLI/AAAAAAAAAR4/y6wsh-102ks/s400/malaysia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vox populi&lt;/em&gt;, a &lt;a title="Latin" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Latin"&gt;Latin&lt;/a&gt; phrase that literally means &lt;em&gt;voice of the people&lt;/em&gt;, has finally found a place in the annals of Malaysian history. For the first time since independence, the ruling party which has until now stood on solid ground found itself clawing desperately to victory on a shaky foundation. Albeit a bitter victory which saw the toppling of many of its old warriors and the unfortunate sacrifice of many of its young ones. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although what has taken place in our country will not be termed as a ‘revolution’, it is indeed a ‘revolution’ of sorts. History teaches us very important lessons about governments and people uprising. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For example, the French Revolution (1789 to 1799) was a major transformation of the society and political system of France. During the course of the Revolution, France was temporarily transformed from an absolute monarchy to a republic of theoretically free and equal citizens. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The effects of the French Revolution was widespread, both inside and outside of France and Revolution ranks as one of the most important events in the history of Europe. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the ten years of the Revolution, France first transformed and then dismantled the Old Regime, the political and social system that existed in France before 1789, and replaced it with a series of different governments. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although none of these governments lasted more than four years, the many initiatives they enacted permanently altered France’s political system. These initiatives included the drafting of several bills of rights and constitutions, the establishment of legal equality among all citizens, experiments with representative democracy, the incorporation of the church into the state, and the reconstruction of state administration and the law code. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In sum, the French Revolution did many things, unleashed new forces, destroyed old ideas, offered new promises. Not the Revolution itself, of course, but the people who made it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The key phrase here is “the people who made it”. It is important for the Government, any Government for that matter, to listen to the voice of the people or ultimately suffer the dire consequences – a bitter lesson that has recently been learned here in our country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without the people, the government is nothing but without the government, the people have proven and will continue to prove that they are still a force to be reckoned with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malaysians have finally awakened from the slumber of their ‘tidak apa’ attitude. They are no longer willing to ‘close one eye’ to what is happening around them. They are no longer willing to give in to threats of “if you don’t like it, you can pack up your bags and leave”. The Government are our chosen representatives and they should listen to our grievances. We have a right to expect a well-structured and efficient system and our Government should not be afraid to fight for equality and fairness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;People do not make noise for no reason. There is always a reason, no matter how small or trivial it may seem. What sometimes begins as a whisper, will turn into a mummer and then a buzz and before you know it into a loud united voice. Some leaders unfortunately have once too often likened the voice of the people to that of the annoying buzz of a mosquito and simply flick their wrist in the hope of driving the mosquito away. &lt;/p&gt;And when this happens, the people realize that they have no ‘official’ avenue to air their grievances and grouses and so resort to other means of communication like the internet- the blogs, the blogs and through street protests. But even when these measures are dismissed as ‘lies’ and ‘out to cause trouble’, the people turn to the last resort and perhaps most powerful weapon of all – the votes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Former Selangor Menteri Besar Datuk Khir Toyo so aptly and symbolically presented inefficient departments with the broom as an indication that they needed to clean up their acts. Now the people of Malaysia have through their recent votes given a clear indication to the Government that they have to clean up their act or risked being “swept off from power”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps this lesson has come a tad too late for Barisan Nasional, but there is still hope and room for improvement if they want to continue ruling the country after this next 5-year term is up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So its time you came down from your high horses and listened to the grass-roots. But if you continue to ignore the voice of the people, then the people won’t be so forgiving the next time. It is we the people who have voted you into power and it is we the same people who can vote you out of power.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-8130350835552402209?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/8130350835552402209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=8130350835552402209' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/8130350835552402209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/8130350835552402209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2008/03/voice-of-people.html' title='Voice of the People'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R9ScC8dRKLI/AAAAAAAAAR4/y6wsh-102ks/s72-c/malaysia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-8546858603205869622</id><published>2008-03-05T21:15:00.007+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:00.588+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pssst ... have you heard the latest?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R86sMQpcHHI/AAAAAAAAARw/HbnnqO5UQRM/s1600-h/gossip%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174262348522462322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R86sMQpcHHI/AAAAAAAAARw/HbnnqO5UQRM/s400/gossip%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Name-calling, mud-slinging, malicious slander, accusations, denials, scandals, gossip … no, I’m not talking about the latest soap-opera ala Dynasty or Dallas that has hit our TV network, but the high-fevered election campaign that is currently taking place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I shocked by all this? Certainly not! In fact it has become a great source of amusement for me and I’m happy to say that I now leave my house with a smile every morning after reading the newspapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is quite obvious that the word ‘integrity’ appears to be a foreign term or even a missing element in many of our candidates regardless of which party they belong to. Yes, one must campaign to ensure that the voters will vote for him or her, but stooping low to do a character assassination on another person or back-stabbing someone is certainly not the right attitude to have for someone who hopes to represent the masses or who hopes to lead the country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We always tell our children that it is wrong for us to talk bad about someone or to lie about something. Even religion teaches us to differentiate what is right and what is wrong. For example, Christians are taught that it is a sin to ‘Bear false witness against our neighbour’ and likewise I’m sure that the other religions have similar teachings or commandments. Well, how then are we going to explain all these slander and accusations etc that appear in the newspapers every day? Yes, some of us can easily say that this happens all over the world. But why would we want to ape the world in doing something that should not be part of our culture?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it impossible for candidates to have faith in their own ability and base their campaign solely on their experience (if any), their capabilities and on what they can deliver, if elected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I am also amused at the numerous complaints being hurled at the candidates. ‘Why is the drain clogged?’, ‘Why is the rubbish by the roadside not collected?’, ‘Why are more youngsters involved in crime?’ When we point a finger at someone, we have to realise that three fingers are pointing back at us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do drains get clogged up? It’s because WE throw all sorts of rubbish in it. Why is there so much rubbish by the roadside? It’s because WE dump the rubbish there. ‘Why are more youngsters involved in crime? It’s because WE as parents are too busy to spend time with our kids or to find out what our children are up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The election is not only a time of soul-searching for the candidates alone.&lt;br /&gt;Can we honestly say, hand on heart, that we have truly been law-abiding citizens? That we have always strived to keep our environment clean? That we have been socially and morally conscious of our obligations? That we have never offered a bribe, that we have never resorted to paying some under-table money for a favour, that we have never parked our cars illegally, that we have never purchased illegal VCDs, that we have never broke traffic rules, that we have never jumped queues, that we have never cheated anyone … the list goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dare we be like William Shakespeare who said, “The good I stand on is my truth and honesty.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-8546858603205869622?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/8546858603205869622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=8546858603205869622' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/8546858603205869622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/8546858603205869622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2008/03/pssst-have-you-heard-latest.html' title='Pssst ... have you heard the latest?'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R86sMQpcHHI/AAAAAAAAARw/HbnnqO5UQRM/s72-c/gossip%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-6107192940711145248</id><published>2008-02-25T21:45:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:01.112+07:00</updated><title type='text'>When 'X' marks the spot</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R8LU08h8TKI/AAAAAAAAARQ/NYd2YQ7k4bw/s1600-h/eve.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170929328241527970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R8LU08h8TKI/AAAAAAAAARQ/NYd2YQ7k4bw/s400/eve.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My e-mail in box has been assailed with numerous messages from countless concerned Malaysians telling me whom I should or should not be voting for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m really amazed to discover that we have many brilliant citizens out there who have taken the time and trouble to gather data and figures in terms of economic, socio and financial standings of each religious and ethnic group in the country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These groups of people have proven to be more efficient than all the government agencies put together in terms of being able to provide the public with the most up-to-date information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently we have such hard working, meticulous persons in our midst, who are fully aware of what is going on in every nook and corner in the country. Now if only these people had come to the forefront and offered themselves as candidates for the elections, then I would most certainly have voted for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Based on the information received, it would appear that the ruling party had not being doing such a great job – hence the call for a change. But at the same time, I also noticed that no information was forthcoming about the other parties who had won parliamentary and state seats. It would have been of great help if these people had listed down all the wonderful things that the Opposition had done in their respective constituencies as opposed to the ruling party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the same time, I also received e-mails urging me to vote for anyone else as long as it was not BN. Now wait a minute – aren’t we coming back to square one? If I was going to vote for just any Ali, Ah Chong or Muthu, what guarantee is there that this person, when he wins is going to be any better than the person who held this seat before him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it’s a gamble we take when we mark the ‘X’ on the balloting paper. Someone who promises to fight for a certain cause/ethnic group in his election campaign may not end up fulfilling his promise. There is no guarantee and unfortunately there is no law that holds him to his numerous promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our duties do not end at the polling station. We the people have the right to ensure that our elected representatives fulfil their obligations during their five-year term. We must act as their voice of conscience and ensure that there are checks and balances. If we wash our hands and take on a ‘tidak apa’ attitude or tell ourselves that there is not going to be a change, then there will be no change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fully agree with the American critic, Alexander Woolcott who said, “I’m&lt;br /&gt;tired of hearing it said that democracy doesn't work. Of course it doesn't work. We are supposed to work it”.&lt;br /&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;&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;&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;&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;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-6107192940711145248?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/6107192940711145248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=6107192940711145248' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/6107192940711145248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/6107192940711145248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2008/02/when-x-marks-spot.html' title='When &apos;X&apos; marks the spot'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R8LU08h8TKI/AAAAAAAAARQ/NYd2YQ7k4bw/s72-c/eve.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-8370628881708305543</id><published>2007-12-31T13:11:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:01.651+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year Everyone!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R3iIR1kY_qI/AAAAAAAAARA/erAxSKBIldE/s1600-h/Happy_New_Year_29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150016013917028002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R3iIR1kY_qI/AAAAAAAAARA/erAxSKBIldE/s400/Happy_New_Year_29.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-8370628881708305543?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/8370628881708305543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=8370628881708305543' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/8370628881708305543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/8370628881708305543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/12/happy-new-year-everyone.html' title='Happy New Year Everyone!'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R3iIR1kY_qI/AAAAAAAAARA/erAxSKBIldE/s72-c/Happy_New_Year_29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-7913644859868100923</id><published>2007-12-17T14:35:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:02.178+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Santa's in town!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R2YpfVkY_pI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/OBqUd9Gg5bA/s1600-h/SexySanta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144845242659831442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R2YpfVkY_pI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/OBqUd9Gg5bA/s400/SexySanta.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R2YpSVkY_oI/AAAAAAAAAQw/Q22eUQR94oc/s1600-h/SexySanta.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R2YouFkY_mI/AAAAAAAAAQg/n3-tZyd_XEQ/s1600-h/sexysanta.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144844396551274082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R2YouFkY_mI/AAAAAAAAAQg/n3-tZyd_XEQ/s400/sexysanta.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I'll be quite busy this next couple of weeks (Santa dropped by - as you can see), so would like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-7913644859868100923?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/7913644859868100923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=7913644859868100923' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/7913644859868100923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/7913644859868100923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/12/santas-in-town.html' title='Santa&apos;s in town!'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R2YpfVkY_pI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/OBqUd9Gg5bA/s72-c/SexySanta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-3189003403829078234</id><published>2007-11-28T23:23:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:02.465+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breaking free from “the world owes me” mentality</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am a first generation Malaysian Indian. My father came to Malaysia from India in search of a better life. He left behind the security and comfort of his home land, his family, his relatives and friends because he truly believed that Malaya (as it was known then) was a land of opportunity. This country, he told himself, would become his new home. No one forced him to come, no one coerced him to come – it was a personal choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137931602833968450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R02ZkiMsDUI/AAAAAAAAAQA/Y6Lto18vbv8/s400/india_map.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In time, my father sent for his bride to be and my mother too came to this unknown and foreign land. They soon settled down and started a family, which would grow over the years to include seven children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life was not easy here. It was a struggle but my father persevered. He could have easily thrown in the towel and pack up his family and leave for his familiar home land as did many others, but he did not. Yes, he faced many kinds of trials and tribulations – financial woes were aplenty and discrimination at the work place was rife. But he took it all in stride. This was his homeland now - both my parents had given up their Indian citizenships and were proud to call themselves Malaysians and they were willing to withstand whatever life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father has since passed away. Since coming to Malaysia, he only visited his country of birth on two occasions – the last one was just a couple of months before his death. My mother on the other hand, returned to India only once and it has now been more than 40 years since her last visit. When I asked my mum if she misses the land of her birth, she said that except for wanting to visit her siblings over there, she is quite content in remaining in Malaysia as this is her home now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not afraid to admit that growing up in Malaysia has not been a complete bed of roses – there have been numerous ups and downs, many instances of discrimination and injustice but I have learned to accept it in my stride. Many a job has slipped from my fingers not because I lacked the qualifications or experience but simply because I am the wrong colour. Yet discrimination comes in many forms – so it will be unfair for me to only highlight the racial discrimination that still exists in this country – we face discrimination in many places – in our places of worship, amongst our own ethnic community, in the workplace, gender discrimination etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many like me who have faced walls and barriers and there are many like me who have picked ourselves up from the dust of oppression, put a smile on our face and marched on with determination. I don’t hold my parents responsible for the struggles I face in life and I don’t lament that the world owes me a living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know of many people who have pulled themselves out of the depths of poverty through sheer effort, hard work and determination and who have made something of themselves. While it would have been easy for them to start pointing fingers and blaming everyone else for the sad state of affairs, they have chosen to channel their energy into something worthwhile and make something of themselves. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137932805424811362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R02aqiMsDWI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/yHTRT7tg_W4/s400/lemayeur.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Then there are those who use their talents in helping others – in bringing a positive change to a particular group or community. They are aware of the many shortcomings in legislative measures and government funding, so instead of merely making noise about the situation, they chose to do something about it as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we believe that our community has remained at the bottom of the ladder all these years, then perhaps its time we asked ourselves why. Have we allowed ourselves to remain in the shackles of ‘colonisation’ and hoped that someone would hand us the key or have we attempted to break free? There are many success stories amongst the Indian community – numerous rags to riches stories – so why do we continue to sit and wait for hand-outs when we can fend for ourselves?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s face it – there is no one government anywhere in the world that is perfect. If there were, then there certainly would be a mass exodus to that Utopia. However it is not impossible to reach this Utopia – all we have to do is free ourselves from this “the world owes me” mentality and learn to help ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me leave you with this quote from the great Mahatma Gandhi: “Rights that do not flow from duty well performed are not worth having.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-3189003403829078234?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/3189003403829078234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=3189003403829078234' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/3189003403829078234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/3189003403829078234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/11/breaking-free-from-world-owes-me.html' title='Breaking free from “the world owes me” mentality'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/R02ZkiMsDUI/AAAAAAAAAQA/Y6Lto18vbv8/s72-c/india_map.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-2362429851844800106</id><published>2007-10-08T06:56:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:02.864+07:00</updated><title type='text'>It’s Raining Men … Allelulia!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rwl1JjuscaI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/FBGFLdX_q1s/s1600-h/Nepalese+men.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;There have been many men who have walked into my life. While some have left, others have remained and these are some of the ones whom I hold dear to me and whom I love unashamedly. I love each of them differently and for different reasons. They have all touched my life in their own way and together they have made me feel totally complete … how could a woman ask for more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118752589993505234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 185px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="272" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rwl2XDuscdI/AAAAAAAAAPo/ktRFCUOshyQ/s400/totr.jpg" width="185" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Phillip was among the first who came into my life and I love him for having helped me to nurture my talents. I love him for his welcoming nature and for his sometimes wicked sense of humour. I love him for his quiet gentleness and for his fatherly wisdom. I love him for being able to be a friend and a counsellor to all who seek him. I love him for his empathic nature and for his ability to sometimes see beyond rigid rules and regulations. I love him for showing that it is possible to be detached and yet care for someone deeply and I certainly love him for being that strong solid rock and safe haven who I can always count on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Then there is Rawi – a character unto himself whom I love for his boisterous nature and for his “I don’t care what the world thinks of me” attitude. I love him for his ability of not letting trivial things bother him. I love him for always seeing the good in everyone and for believing that each person deserves a second chance. I love him for being able to put aside his differences and stand up for his contemporaries when the need arises. I love him for his tolerant nature, for his patience and for being able to put up with all my idiosyncrasies over the years and I love him for always being there for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;What would I ever do without Gerard? I love him for being my own personal punching bag when I need to vent my frustrations. I love him for his welcoming smile, for his great warmth and his unselfish love. I love him for his wit and his sarcasm under which lies a heart of gold. I love him for not being judgemental and for his often non-committal remarks. I love him for knowing when to be silent and for knowing when to give advice. I love him for giving people that space and freedom to grow and for allowing them to make their own mistakes and learning from it and I love him for his quiet strength and gentle assurance and the knowledge that he will never neglect me especially in my time of need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rwl2GzusccI/AAAAAAAAAPg/kF6Q7B8CqMs/s1600-h/contemporary-semi-abstract-textile-art-its-raining-men.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I love Mari for his persistence in reaching beyond the barriers of distance and silence. I love him for being able to see the unspoken words in a person’s heart and for sensing the hurts that assails one’s soul. I love him for his curtness and for his in your face attitude. I love him for his great insight on life and for his ability to weather all types of adversities. I love him for being able to accept his own weaknesses and for seeing life as a blessing and I love him for accepting me the way I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118753272893305314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="224" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rwl2-zusceI/AAAAAAAAAPw/o4xaR46GGOI/s400/contemporary-semi-abstract-textile-art-its-raining-men.jpg" width="321" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Chris is like a breath of fresh air in my life. I love him for his “nothing gets me down” attitude. I love him for his sunny disposition and for his endless enthusiasm. I love him for being down to earth and for his practical perspective on life. I love him for his child-like qualities. I love him for his reassuring spirit and for his calm, gentle manner and I love him for being able to uplift my spirits whenever I am down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Nourishment for my soul – this is what Clarence means to me. I love him for his boyish innocence. I love him for his intellectual stimulation as well as his unspoken cynicism. I love him for his ability to calm a troubled soul and bring them gently back to the fold. I love him for his charm and also his aloofness at times. I love him for his quiet, dignified manner and for his level-headedness and I love him for his calm presence in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; love George for his stubborn streak and for the many upheavals he brings into my life. I love him for the way he stands up to me when I am in the wrong. I love him for the many misunderstandings that we have encountered, because it has humbled me. I also love him for his charitable nature and for his fighting spirit. I love him for his determination and for his ability to accept and overcome the many obstacles of life. I love him for his quiet nature and his gentle approach and I love him for his sturdy presence in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Terrance is like a gentle breeze on a hot, sunny day. I love him for his calm, gentle demeanour. I love him for always looking on the bright side of things. I love him for his quiet acceptance of life and everything that has been thrust on him. I love him for his ability to turn every hardship or disappointment into a blessing. I love him for his contemplative nature and for his quiet words of wisdom. I love him for thoughtfulness and his compassion and I love him for knowing how to soothe my bruised soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Edwin is a man of few words, but his thoughtfulness is immeasurable. I love him for his patience and for his tolerance. I love him for putting up with my insecurities at times and for his understanding. I love him for his distant yet firm hand of friendship. I love him for his quiet assurance and I love him for always being when I need a shoulder to cry on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118753418922193394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 195px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 207px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="260" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rwl3HTuscfI/AAAAAAAAAP4/C70Mv_S-rUs/s400/75.jpg" width="195" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rwl1wTuscbI/AAAAAAAAAPY/qelWb4tCuXA/s1600-h/75.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;Yes, there are other men in my life – but that’s another posting – some other day but for now, these are the men who have been with me on my many journeys of life. Some have been there for years and others have come in more recently – and I thank God for blessing me with each and every one of them and I just wanna say this: I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-2362429851844800106?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/2362429851844800106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=2362429851844800106' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/2362429851844800106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/2362429851844800106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/10/its-raining-men-allelulia.html' title='It’s Raining Men … Allelulia!'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rwl2XDuscdI/AAAAAAAAAPo/ktRFCUOshyQ/s72-c/totr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-1277417295977021190</id><published>2007-10-01T22:11:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:03.347+07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m in love again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RwESezuscVI/AAAAAAAAAOo/5nKcTHzMIQc/s1600-h/adl-aa-aw134.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116390972161028434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 182px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px" height="279" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RwESezuscVI/AAAAAAAAAOo/5nKcTHzMIQc/s400/adl-aa-aw134.jpg" width="182" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I’m in love again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s a spring in my walk, a song in my heart and a smile on my face. I feel as if I’m sweet sixteen once again. What brought about this transformation you may ask … its simple actually … I’m in love again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know when or how it happened, I just know that it was love at first sight. My thoughts, my feelings, my actions are centred around my love. I am consumed with such a great passion, that it is burning me alive. I thirst so much and can only be quenched by my love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was hesitant at first … I did not want to get entangled in this relationship because I know that it will only cause me a lot of heartache and pain at the end of the day. But I was just too weak to resist. My body and soul held only one desire and I could not fight it off any longer ….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;True Love is the place that many seek,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;many people call it life's highest peak,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Its truly blind to coldness,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;it is peaceful, interesting and divine,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;sometimes it seems so hard to find.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;But when true love is found,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;you know in it you'll always want to be entwined. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;With wisdom we learn truths,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;We know that 'Looks' are not important,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;and know that a good heart matters most.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;When love is sought in silly superficialities,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;the only thing that's found is emptiness,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RwESpTuscWI/AAAAAAAAAOw/th9H9WVtEZA/s1600-h/black_love_art_intimacy.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Love does not want superiority,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;respects the difference in equality,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;It is not cruel, arrogant, or mean,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;True Love is kind, caring, considerate and clean.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Love is not found with lust or power trips,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;it can't be found in butts or hips.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;It isn't found in muscles, height or boobs,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;It can't be found in body gaps.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Its forgiving but it learns from the past,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;True Love is sympathetic and it lets you be free,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;anyone who knows true love... will agree.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;True Love lives in caring and sharing,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;that I can guarantee and swear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;True Love is giving but not excessive,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;True love listens well and is expressive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;True love is just and wise,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;it doesn't allow unfair abuse,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;that comes from crazy girls or guys,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;True Love really can live alone and still feel love,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;It usually chooses to share itself with others,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;it fills you with comfort,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;it always lives... its always love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Yes after many years, I’m tempted once again, my love has come a calling and to my lips it speaks ,,,, its temptation I just can’t resist … I must indulge, I must give in … and on my hips will lie the sin of my temptation for all the world to see … a few minutes of pleasure will end in months of shame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I mean seriously folks, I’m sure many of you just can’t resist the simply mouth-watering Ice Kacang … shaved ice topped with sweet corn, black jelly, cendol, red beans and attap chee (palm seeds), drenched with rose syrup, gula melaka syrup, condensed milk and evaporated milk! Its simply heavenly and yes, I’m in love again with the wonderful Ais Kacang and so what if I’m gonna add on a couple more pounds?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116394786091987314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 209px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="256" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RwEV8zuscXI/AAAAAAAAAO4/CH5NpMYjPGg/s400/icekachang.png" width="209" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-1277417295977021190?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/1277417295977021190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=1277417295977021190' title='26 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/1277417295977021190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/1277417295977021190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-in-love-again.html' title='I’m in love again!'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RwESezuscVI/AAAAAAAAAOo/5nKcTHzMIQc/s72-c/adl-aa-aw134.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>26</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-2155952904988317238</id><published>2007-09-28T12:48:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:04.733+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Advice for a new bride</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;My colleague Mei Fern is getting married tomorrow (29th September, 2007) and its gonna be easy for me to remember her anniversary next year and the year after … and the year after that … and the subsequent years coz its just two days after my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115099784732766434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rvx8JzuscOI/AAAAAAAAAN0/lU0gNMDd0jw/s400/bride%26groom%5B1%5D.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Being attached to a Public Relations firm, Mei Fern is quite lucky that her boss (who also happens to be a close family friend) and her colleagues were very much involved in the planning of the wedding. I think all new brides will attest to the fact that planning a wedding can be quite a headache and sometimes even filled with much tears and frustration. Suddenly everyone is an expert on weddings and wants to jump onto the band wagon of dishing out unsolicited advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While looking out for a nice wedding poem to enclose with the card for the bride and groom, I came across this interesting and humorous piece of advice for a new bride. Its such a classic that I just can’t resist sharing it with everyone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;This of course is one piece of advice which I’m sure Mei Fern is most certainly NOT going to be following.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway Mei Fern and Chun Mun, here’s wishing you both much joy, happiness and great adventures as you embark on this new journey together. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#993300;"&gt;This is a reprint of an article in The Madison Institute Newsletter, Fall Issue, 1894: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;Instruction and advice for the young bride&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;On the Conduct and Procedure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993300;"&gt;Of the Intimate and Personal Relationships&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993300;"&gt;Of the Marriage State&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993300;"&gt;For the Greater Spiritual Sanctity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993300;"&gt;Of this Blessed Sacrament&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993300;"&gt;And the Glory of God&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993300;"&gt;by Ruth SmythersBeloved wife of The Reverend L.D. Smythers,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993300;"&gt;Pastor of the Arcadian Methodist Church &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993300;"&gt;of the Eastern Regional Conference&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993300;"&gt;Published in the year of our Lord 1894&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993300;"&gt;Spiritual Guidance Press, New York City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115100244294267122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rvx8kjuscPI/AAAAAAAAAN8/SSTMYV7Brmo/s400/lady.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Instruction and advice for the young bride&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvyTujuscTI/AAAAAAAAAOY/6_OLUys1R5k/s1600-h/bridaway.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115125704860397874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 110px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px" height="192" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvyTujuscTI/AAAAAAAAAOY/6_OLUys1R5k/s400/bridaway.gif" width="102" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;To the sensitive young woman who has had the benefits of proper upbringing, the wedding day is, ironically, both the happiest and most terrifying day of her life. On the positive side, there is the wedding itself, in which the bride is the central attraction in a beautiful and inspiring ceremony, symbolizing her triumph in securing a male to provide for all her needs for the rest of her life. On the negative side, there is the wedding night, during which the bride must pay the piper, so to speak, by facing for the first time the terrible experience of sex. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvySZzuscQI/AAAAAAAAAOE/kdHG0AMYXlU/s1600-h/victorian-bride.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;At this point, dear reader, let me concede one shocking truth.Some young women actually anticipate the wedding night ordeal with curiosity and pleasure! Beware such an attitude! A selfish and sensual husband can easily take advantage of such a bride. One cardinal rule of marriage should never be forgotten: GIVE LITTLE, GIVE SELDOM, AND ABOVE ALL, GIVE GRUDGINGLY. Otherwise what could have been a proper marriage could become an orgy of sexual lust. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;On the other hand, the bride's terror need not be extreme. While sex is at best revolting and at worse rather painful, it has to be endured, and has been by women since the beginning of time, and is compensated for by the monogamous home and by the children produced through it. It is useless, in most cases, for the bride to prevail upon the groom to forego the sexual initiation. While the ideal husband would be one who would approach his bride only at her request and only for the purpose of begetting offspring, such nobility and unselfishness cannot be expected from the average man.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Most men, if not denied, would demand sex almost every day. The wise bride will permit a maximum of two brief sexual experiences weekly during the first months of marriage. As time goes by she should make every effort to reduce this frequency. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;Feigned illness, sleepiness, and headaches are among the wife's best friends in this matter. Arguments, nagging, scolding, and bickering also prove very effective, if used in the late evening about an hour before the husband would normally commence his seduction. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvyS8DuscRI/AAAAAAAAAOM/3DjDx_tNTpo/s1600-h/nursing2.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115124837277004050" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvyS8DuscRI/AAAAAAAAAOM/3DjDx_tNTpo/s400/nursing2.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;Clever wives are ever on the alert for new and better methods of denying and discouraging the amorous overtures of the husband. A good wife should expect to have reduced sexual contacts to once a week by the end of the first year of marriage and to once a month by the end of the fifth year of marriage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;By their tenth anniversary many wives have managed to complete their child bearing and have achieved the ultimate goal of terminating all sexual contacts with the husband. By this time she can depend upon his love for the children and social pressures to hold the husband in the home. Just as she should be ever alert to keep the quantity of sex as low as possible, the wise bride will pay equal attention to limiting the kind and degree of sexual contacts. Most men are by nature rather perverted, and if given half a chance, would engage in quite a variety of the most revolting practices. These practices include among others performing the normal act in abnormal positions; mouthing the female body; and offering their own vile bodies to be mouthed in turn. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;Nudity, talking about sex, reading stories about sex, viewing photographs and drawings depicting or suggesting sex are the obnoxious habits the male is likely to acquire if permitted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;A wise bride will make it the goal never to allow her husband to see her unclothed body, and never allow him to display his unclothed body to her. Sex, when it cannot be prevented, should be practiced only in total darkness. Many women have found it useful to have thick cotton nightgowns for themselves and pajamas for their husbands. These should be donned in separate rooms. They need not be removed during the sex act. Thus, a minimum of flesh is exposed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvyT4juscUI/AAAAAAAAAOg/d48Diou1a0Y/s1600-h/corset.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115125876659089730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="191" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvyT4juscUI/AAAAAAAAAOg/d48Diou1a0Y/s400/corset.gif" width="120" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;Once the bride has donned her gown and turned off all the lights, she should lie quietly upon the bed and await her groom. When he comes groping into the room she should make no sound to guide him in her direction, lest he take this as a sign of encouragement. She should let him grope in the dark. There is always the hope that he will stumble and incur some slight injury which she can use as an excuse to deny him sexual access. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;When he finds her, the wife should lie as still as possible. Bodily motion on her part could be interpreted as sexual excitement by the optimistic husband. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;If he attempts to kiss her on the lips she should turn her head slightly so that the kiss falls harmlessly on her cheek instead. If he attempts to kiss her hand, she should make a fist. If he lifts her gown and attempts to kiss her anyplace else she should quickly pull the gown back in place, spring from the bed, and announce that nature calls her to the toilet. This will generally dampen his desire to kiss in the forbidden territory. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;If the husband attempts to seduce her with lascivious talk, the wise wife will suddenly remember some trivial non-sexual question to ask him. Once he answers she should keep the conversation going, no matter how frivolous it may seem at the time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;Eventually, the husband will learn that if he insists on having sexual contact, he must get on with it without amorous embellishment. The wise wife will allow him to pull the gown up no farther than the waist, and only permit him to open the front of his pajamas to thus make connection.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;She should be absolutely silent or babble about her housework while he is huffing and puffing away. Above all, she should lie perfectly still and never under any circumstances grunt or groan while the act is in progress. As soon as the husband has completed the act, the wise wife will start nagging him about various minor tasks she wishes him to perform on the morrow. Many men obtain a major portion of their sexual satisfaction from the peaceful exhaustion immediately after the act is over. Thus the wife must insure that there is no peace in this period for him to enjoy. Otherwise, he might be encouraged to soon try for more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;One heartening factor for which the wife can be grateful is the fact that the husband's home, school, church, and social environment have been working together all through his life to instill in him a deep sense of guilt in regards to his sexual feelings, so that he comes to the marriage couch apologetically and filled with shame, already half cowed and subdued. The wise wife seizes upon this advantage and relentlessly pursues her goal first to limit, later to annihilate completely her husband's desire for sexual expression.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Copyright 1894 The Madison Institute&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-2155952904988317238?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/2155952904988317238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=2155952904988317238' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/2155952904988317238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/2155952904988317238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/09/advice-for-new-bride.html' title='Advice for a new bride'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rvx8JzuscOI/AAAAAAAAAN0/lU0gNMDd0jw/s72-c/bride%26groom%5B1%5D.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-4115570893623817627</id><published>2007-09-27T08:04:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:05.738+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Turning 42 ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvsDxDuscKI/AAAAAAAAANY/C63m-RdewaA/s1600-h/birthday_card.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114685943158960290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 171px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" height="224" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvsDxDuscKI/AAAAAAAAANY/C63m-RdewaA/s400/birthday_card.jpg" width="249" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;Turning 42 and loving every moment of it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! Yeah yours truly just turned 42 and as much as I would like to say that I’m going out to paint the town red, I won’t. I woke up, came to work in the morning and will be going straight home after work in the evening. Have my dinner, watch a little TV and go straight to bed. No fuss, no fanfare … just another ordinary day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that I don’t believe in celebrating birthdays etc, but I guess I’ve just reached a stage in my life where my priorities have shifted greatly and I’ve learned to accept life one day at a time.&lt;br /&gt;The 40's have impacted my identity by helping me find out how strong of a person I am. With all my trials and tribulations that I went through and am still going through, I feel stronger every day. I never knew that I was this strong of a person and so self determined. And I never knew there were so many tough bridges to cross, but I have crossed them and made it over to the other side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Just last month, I went back to a full-time job after having had a relaxing 5 months or so at home. Given a choice, I would have loved to continue working as a free-lance writer but certain financial commitments did not allow me to do so for too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvsHCDuscMI/AAAAAAAAANo/4274pkHxS4o/s1600-h/sca0141.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114689533751619778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 203px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 203px" height="215" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvsHCDuscMI/AAAAAAAAANo/4274pkHxS4o/s400/sca0141.jpg" width="190" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The company I joined is wonderful – the work is not too stressful and both my boss and colleagues are wonderful people and I enjoy the working environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;It so happened that after I joined this company, I received two job offers with a higher pay, a senior designation and great perks. In the past I may have immediately grabbed either one of the jobs, but when I received the calls, I was not hesitant in turning down the jobs simply because I am happy here. Although I am not denying that money plays an important factor in my life, I realized that I would rather place personal happiness above monetary gain. I’ve passed that stage in my life where career comes above everything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I’ve also come to realize that at this age, I’ve broadened my views about a lot of stuff and I don’t find it strange that I can hang out with a bunch of 20-somethings and have a good time and that I can have a leisurely lunch/dinner and great conversation with someone in their 60s or 70s and have an equally good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Being in my 40s has also helped me to accept my physical appearance. In the past I would have been too concerned about my looks – wishing that I had a 36-24-36 figure etc and not an inch of fat on my body. Surprisingly I find that I can still feel sexy and attractive with my grey hair and my pear-shaped body – I am no longer inhibited by the way my figure is and have no need to camouflage it by wearing loose, baggy outfits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvsF-DuscLI/AAAAAAAAANg/ZdLzpZzPDI8/s1600-h/LadyMaracas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114688365520515250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvsF-DuscLI/AAAAAAAAANg/ZdLzpZzPDI8/s400/LadyMaracas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;So what if my breasts have begun to sag a little bit; so what if I don’t have a flat tummy and so what if my flabby thighs will wiggle and shake when I get into a swimsuit. I’ve learnt that if you are confident about the way you look, then that confidence will convert itself into beauty which will be seen by others and I’m not ashamed to brag that men still find me attractive – flab and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I know that my body will soon be assailed with all sorts of aches and pains that women in their 40s can look forward to. I’m not worrying my life away that I’m still single and my biological clock is ticking away. I’m not afraid of menopause and am being positive about having hot flashes. You are as old as you feel and I still feel like I am in my thirties or 20's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Yes I guess this is what growing older is all about – its about enjoying life and learning to accept it one day at a time. So once again, Happy Birthday to me! &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/1995795166575426524-4115570893623817627?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/4115570893623817627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=4115570893623817627' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/4115570893623817627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/4115570893623817627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/09/turning-42.html' title='Turning 42 ...'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RvsDxDuscKI/AAAAAAAAANY/C63m-RdewaA/s72-c/birthday_card.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-4542364034010709443</id><published>2007-08-16T11:52:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:05.987+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Long Sabbatical</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Man is so made that he can only find&lt;br /&gt;relaxation from one kind of labor by taking up another.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;- Anatole France&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RsPf8oP3O8I/AAAAAAAAANQ/Z0Gsod9VuaE/s1600-h/bedofdreams.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099165435802631106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RsPf8oP3O8I/AAAAAAAAANQ/Z0Gsod9VuaE/s400/bedofdreams.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;My dear friends and readers,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Patsy's Chambers will be closed for an indefinite time. Before I take leave, I would like to thank you for your support, encouragement and friendship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will return ... someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-4542364034010709443?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/4542364034010709443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=4542364034010709443' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/4542364034010709443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/4542364034010709443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/08/long-sabbatical.html' title='Long Sabbatical'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RsPf8oP3O8I/AAAAAAAAANQ/Z0Gsod9VuaE/s72-c/bedofdreams.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-4356947432258230637</id><published>2007-07-06T02:37:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:06.634+07:00</updated><title type='text'>It ain’t over till the Fat Lady sings</title><content type='html'>A friend of mine (of course after this fiasco I really don’t know whether I should still call her my friend). Anyway this “friend” of mine wanted to introduce me to her new colleague who happens to be from North India.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn’t really interested but she was so persistent and said that he wanted to meet new people etc and so I thought to myself why not … it would be good to widen my circle of friends (which by the way has been seriously slashed down – only the genuine ones remain now).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was telling me what a nice person he was, good looking ala Mr Bollywood (think Shah Rukh Khan, Salman Khan, Abishek Bachan … you get the picture), friendly, charming etc. At the same time, I guess, she must have also been doing some marketing on behalf as well. Well, what I did not know was that she had also showed him a picture of me (a group photo taken a while back).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Ro1UXLiJyNI/AAAAAAAAAMg/UxWOA_1gKRY/s1600-h/Thin+Images.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083812311580920018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Ro1UXLiJyNI/AAAAAAAAAMg/UxWOA_1gKRY/s400/Thin+Images.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My friend passed my e-mail address to him and one fine day I get this e-mail from Mr Kiran (that’s his name). After the usual pleasantries, he mentioned that he saw my photo and these were his exact words to me: “You are quite attractive, but you look heavier than me.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was this guy thinking? Had he already envisioned trying to carry me across the threshold or had he gone a step further and was thinking of the ‘woman on top position’? I mean what did my weight have to do with him wanting to have a friend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here he was, a total stranger, and he had the audacity to pass a disparaging comment about my weight. Who the hell did he think he was?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit that I certainly do not have the figure of a beauty queen but I certainly do have curves in all the right places and I am not going to apologise for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it with men and their obsession of pencil-thin women so much so that they don’t even want to be seen in the company of girls who are on the heavy side?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever seen the paintings by Michelangelo or Rembrandt? Have you noticed how well endowed the women in those paintings are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across an article about this African painter, Aka Augustin Kassi who is well known for his paintings of ‘big’ women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what he has to say about them: God has created fat women, painting them is my way of celebrating and appreciating them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, there is a difference between fat and obesity. In various cultures world wide, certain amount of plumpness signifies prosperity and security. So it’s okay to be healthy and plump – it’s beautiful. And I’m not going to starve myself just because some jerk thinks that I look heavier than him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083802222702741522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Ro1LL7iJyBI/AAAAAAAAALA/dnUvkTp7218/s400/fat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’d like to leave you with this poem by Tracie Brown who just sums it up beautifully:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BIG AND BEAUTIFUL&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm Big and Beautiful&lt;br /&gt;I am proud to be me&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy the way God made and shape me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I may not be Skinny, Slim or Trim&lt;br /&gt;but baby, I'm not trying to be like any of them.&lt;br /&gt;I'm Big and Beautiful that's who I am &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Ro1OH7iJyGI/AAAAAAAAALo/2xcgJRJ5iPM/s1600-h/Rubens_Venus_at_a_Mirror_c1615.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083805452518148194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 122px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px" height="189" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Ro1OH7iJyGI/AAAAAAAAALo/2xcgJRJ5iPM/s400/Rubens_Venus_at_a_Mirror_c1615.jpg" width="158" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I never question my Size or my Weight&lt;br /&gt;I'm Big and Beautiful&lt;br /&gt;And still able to get Hot Dates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love me!&lt;br /&gt;And a Big, Beautiful, Queen I am&lt;br /&gt;Even if I'm not very Slim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my Curves and my Big Golden Brown Thighs&lt;br /&gt;No one can handle this if they tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm Big and Beautiful&lt;br /&gt;What a honour it is to be me&lt;br /&gt;Even if I don't have the Perfect Body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I may be a Little Hippie with a Little Extra Meat&lt;br /&gt;But men would consider this to be a Delicious Treat!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may not have a Six pack or meet Society Standards&lt;br /&gt;but this Big, Beautiful Sister can surely handle hers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Tracie Brown &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083812887106537698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="184" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Ro1U4riJyOI/AAAAAAAAAMo/PXzk35BN2t4/s400/mirror-image-perceptions.jpg" width="319" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-4356947432258230637?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/4356947432258230637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=4356947432258230637' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/4356947432258230637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/4356947432258230637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/07/it-aint-over-till-fat-lady-sings.html' title='It ain’t over till the Fat Lady sings'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Ro1UXLiJyNI/AAAAAAAAAMg/UxWOA_1gKRY/s72-c/Thin+Images.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-7215932904047908089</id><published>2007-07-01T19:37:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:07.031+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged - Hi 5 Meme</title><content type='html'>And the lucky number is 5 …&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, looks like I’m into the tag business again. &lt;a href="http://seaykopitiam.blogspot.com/2007/06/hi-5-meme.html"&gt;Kayatan&lt;/a&gt; tagged me on this Hi 5 meme … so here goes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RoehjLiJx9I/AAAAAAAAAKg/QA6si70A6Oo/s1600-h/StealingHandbag.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082208330274424786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 231px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px" height="318" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RoehjLiJx9I/AAAAAAAAAKg/QA6si70A6Oo/s400/StealingHandbag.jpg" width="230" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;5 things found in your bag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1) My house keys&lt;/strong&gt; … I try not to leave home without them. Otherwise I usually end up waiting till my mum gets out of the bath … coz no matter what time I get home on the days I forget my keys, that is the exact time when my mum is having her bath. Go figure …&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2) An umbrella&lt;/strong&gt; … as the saying goes, when it rains it pours … have experienced walking in the rain and getting totally drenched. Of course, I never managed to pull off that “wet look” like Bo Derek in the movie “10”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3) A packet of tissue&lt;/strong&gt; …. Ever had a day when you were sweating like a pig and had totally nothing to wipe the sweat off from your face? And you find it so tempting to just wipe your face on your sleeve or just lift your blouse and use it like a handkerchief.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;4)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt; I’ll lump all these under one item – &lt;strong&gt;lipstick, compact powder and comb&lt;/strong&gt; … the days when I happen to forget my comb are the exact days when my hair gets blown all over my face thanks to a gush of wind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;5) &lt;strong&gt;A book&lt;/strong&gt; … our public transport system is so “super efficient” that I usually have to kill time, so a book comes in handy (beats having to watch someone pick their nose) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;5 favourite things in your room&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_euhNrltbIpI/RoeaPRE6uGI/AAAAAAAAAso/iF0KlPuwLLg/s1600-h/van_gogh.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082210284484544482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 298px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px" height="237" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RoejU7iJx-I/AAAAAAAAAKo/VJ5ifW4zJpg/s400/van_gogh.jpg" width="298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;1. &lt;strong&gt;My ever so inviting bed&lt;/strong&gt; … every time I see my bed, I just want to lay down and take a snooze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;My collection of books and magazines&lt;/strong&gt; … JT now you know where most of the novels from that Central Market second-hand book store have gone to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;My soft toys&lt;/strong&gt; … Hey just because I’m in my 40s doesn’t mean that I can’t still be a little girl at heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;My collection of books and magazines&lt;/strong&gt; . . . (yeah I know … but I have so many lah!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;My laptop&lt;/strong&gt; . . . my latest extravagance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;5 things you’ve always wanted to do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;1. Write a book &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;2. Visit Italy and experience a holiday romance … if you can’t fall in love in Italy, then you definitely can’t fall in love anywhere else in the world (this is my theory lah!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Roej87iJx_I/AAAAAAAAAKw/-iuS5i6Tg90/s1600-h/map+of+the+world.bmp"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;3. Go on a round the world trip with JT . . . it will be fun, just the two of us. Am sure we will have a whale of a time. Now all we need is the money!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;4. Visit some exotic island in the South Pacific and write a book while I am there … have this theory once again, that I will be inspired to write a book when I’m relaxing in such a place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;5. Spend a couple of months doing missionary work in some poor country … have always wanted to do, and hope I will have the opportunity to do it some day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;5 things you are currently into&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_euhNrltbIpI/RoefCxE6uKI/AAAAAAAAAtI/lBpqPtvF8NA/s1600-h/blogging.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Roekd7iJyAI/AAAAAAAAAK4/sj5HZUaXrQw/s1600-h/blogging.gif"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082211538614994946" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px" height="270" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Roekd7iJyAI/AAAAAAAAAK4/sj5HZUaXrQw/s400/blogging.gif" width="219" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;1) Blogging&lt;br /&gt;2) Reading&lt;br /&gt;3) Free lance writing&lt;br /&gt;4) Gardening&lt;br /&gt;5) Taking life one day at a time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;5 people you WANT TO tag&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) JT&lt;br /&gt;2) Elviza&lt;br /&gt;3) Winniethepooh&lt;br /&gt;4) Princessjournals&lt;br /&gt;5) Ms J&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-7215932904047908089?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/7215932904047908089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=7215932904047908089' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/7215932904047908089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/7215932904047908089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/07/tagged-hi-5-meme.html' title='Tagged - Hi 5 Meme'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RoehjLiJx9I/AAAAAAAAAKg/QA6si70A6Oo/s72-c/StealingHandbag.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-8400247524204682276</id><published>2007-06-28T12:09:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:07.300+07:00</updated><title type='text'>A tag for charity</title><content type='html'>I was tagged by &lt;a href="http://jacquiscurve.blogspot.com/"&gt;JT&lt;/a&gt; who was tagged by &lt;a href="http://rubyahmad.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ruby Ahmad&lt;/a&gt;, who was tagged by &lt;a href="http://onebreastbouncing.blogspot.com/"&gt;Raden Galoh&lt;/a&gt;, who was tagged by &lt;a href="http://bakpo.blogspot.com/2007/06/blog-post.html"&gt;Idham&lt;/a&gt;. Anyway, he is planning to compile as many tags/memes as possible by 26th August, for which every tag/meme, he will contribute RM127 to &lt;a href="http://www.darulizzah.enetmyne.com/"&gt;Darul Izzah Orphanage&lt;/a&gt;. The meme is about completing at least seventeen out of the following twenty seven sentences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay looks like its time to finally join in the tag-game. I plead guilty to not having fulfilled my tag on previous occasions … sorry JT and Daphne, but since I was told by JT (who phoned me personally all the way from Germany) that this tag is for the benefit of orphans, I shall do my part as well. So here goes (prefer to do it with a touch of humour, though .. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. A person is only as good as ... long as he/she does not hit his/her friends for a loan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Friendship is always ... great while you still have money. Once you’re broke, your friends will dump you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RoNHQbiJx7I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/NEvrQzfhGMc/s1600-h/Charity+cartoon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080983152198535090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px" height="269" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RoNHQbiJx7I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/NEvrQzfhGMc/s400/Charity+cartoon.jpg" width="279" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;3. To love is to ... act like a walking, talking, breathing fool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Money makes me ... wonder why I don’t have any.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I miss ... when I used to be a 36-24-36 (way back in the 80s)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. My way of saying I care is by ... ignoring you and giving you lots of space to get over whatever it is that’s bugging you right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I try to spread love and happiness by... staying away from the rest of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Pick the flowers when ... you discover that you have a pollen allergy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. To love someone is to ... make a complete, utter fool of yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Beauty is ... when you manage to beat 50 other contestants and have the crown on your head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. When I was 13, what I remember the most was ... thinking what was the big deal in turning 13.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. When I was 21, I remember... thinking what was the big deal in turning 21.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I am most happy when ... people I hate are miserable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Nothing makes me happier than ... seeing that what goes around comes around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. If I can change one thing, I will change ... the way some people look and wipe those damn smirks off their face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. If smiles were ... a dime a dozen, then I … would be in abject poverty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Wouldn't it be nice if we could ... have less dumb Presidents in some parts of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. If you want to ... flatter someone.. then you have to ... be absolutely good in “sucking up”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080983628939904962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 348px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 291px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="306" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RoNHsLiJx8I/AAAAAAAAAKY/5s_sAYY25WA/s400/Flattery.jpg" width="338" border="0" /&gt; 19. Money is not everything but ... if you have it, then you can rule the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. The most touching moment I have experienced is ... when my favourite character in a soap opera I was watching died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. I smile when ... I’m up to no good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. When I am happy, I ... make sure that others are miserable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. If only I don't have to ... do this damn tag ... then... I could be doing something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. The best thing I did yesterday was ... shove that person who was trying to shove me while we were trying to board the bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. If I ever write a book, I will give it this title ... “FINALLY”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. One thing I must do before I die is ... tell certain people what I really think of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Doing this meme, I feel like ... JT owes me big time! So I now pass on this tag to Daphne Ling. Have fun girl!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-8400247524204682276?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/8400247524204682276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=8400247524204682276' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/8400247524204682276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/8400247524204682276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/06/tag-for-charity.html' title='A tag for charity'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RoNHQbiJx7I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/NEvrQzfhGMc/s72-c/Charity+cartoon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-1528977932713743000</id><published>2007-06-24T18:16:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:07.513+07:00</updated><title type='text'>We all need a little magic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rn5SsaH9IfI/AAAAAAAAAKI/v1hrQhfLR8M/s1600-h/fairy1.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079588352600908274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rn5SsaH9IfI/AAAAAAAAAKI/v1hrQhfLR8M/s400/fairy1.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Yours truly was busy these couple of weeks in the world of Harry Potter. I had to persuade my nephew to lend me the entire collection and just managed to finish all 6 books today. Yeah, yeah I know … most of you are over and done with it and are eagerly awaiting the so-called final book which should be out next month.&lt;br /&gt;Well, don’t forget that I’m the Queen of Procrastination, plus I’m the type of person who likes all the hype to die down before I venture into something … why be one the crowd?&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I must say that I enjoyed the stories despite the fact that some of us have been warned by certain religious authorities of the evil lurking behind them. To me, they are just stories – something to while the time away and yes, maybe even a brief opportunity to escape into a world of fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;How many of us have wished when things go wrong as they often do, that we had those little wands that we could use to make everything right again. How many of us wished that we could have a little “magic” to have that “oh so perfect life that we dreamed of”.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, we could all do with a little bit of “magic” in our lives, and believe me its possible if we put our minds to it. I’m not talking about the “magic” of wizards, witches and fairies but I’m talking about the “magic” that resides in each one of us.&lt;br /&gt;I’m talking about the magic of kindness, the magic of generosity, the magic of friendship, the magic of love, the magic of honesty, the magic of reaching out … and the list is endless.&lt;br /&gt;If we can make just one person feel better by using the magic inside us, then we have certainly achieved a lot – we can erase loneliness, we can take away pain, we can bring joy, we can fill hearts with hope.&lt;br /&gt;So who says we needs wands and spells to fill our lives with magic? We have the power, use it wisely and unselfishly – we could all use a little magic in our lives.&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/1995795166575426524-1528977932713743000?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/1528977932713743000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=1528977932713743000' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/1528977932713743000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/1528977932713743000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/06/we-all-need-little-magic.html' title='We all need a little magic'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rn5SsaH9IfI/AAAAAAAAAKI/v1hrQhfLR8M/s72-c/fairy1.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-3453595164409947781</id><published>2007-06-14T12:03:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:07.675+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who am I really?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RnDMZaH9IeI/AAAAAAAAAKA/oLkNz72gCd0/s1600-h/girl_in_window.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075781516928033250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RnDMZaH9IeI/AAAAAAAAAKA/oLkNz72gCd0/s400/girl_in_window.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;“Describe yourself,” said the lady seated across me during the interview. Describe myself? What exactly am I supposed to say, I thought to myself. I’m sure she’s not asking me to describe myself physically – I am sitting right in front of her, so she knows what I look like.&lt;br /&gt;Am I supposed to talk about my academic qualifications, my abilities, my hobbies and my work experiences? Well, they were already stated in my resume and she has just gone through them one by one.&lt;br /&gt;This was truly an awkward moment. Here I was trying to “sell” myself as a writer and I was actually at a loss for words.&lt;br /&gt;What am I supposed to say? How does one describe oneself in a situation like this? I remember vaguely mumbling something … there were pauses in between during which I was trying to rack my brains and think of something interesting to say. It was then that it occurred to me that I truly did not know myself. Ask me to describe my friends, my family, places of interest I have visited, my experiences, my favourite food etc and I bet you I can fill countless pages. But ask me to describe myself and I’m simply stuck!&lt;br /&gt;How do I describe myself so that people can see what is inside my soul? How do I describe myself so that people truly understand who I am? How do I describe myself without the benefit of my qualifications and experiences?&lt;br /&gt;This question has been plaguing me for the past couple of days. And I’ve been wracking my brains trying to think of an ideal answer.&lt;br /&gt;I like to think of myself as a silent observer in this great game of life. I can see myself as a little girl watching from an upstairs window as a noisy and colourful carnival passes by in the streets below. I want to go down and be a part of the crowd, but I’m too nervous and too shy. I dream of being a part of the carnival, but I know that I can never match the talent and the beauty of the group, so I remain upstairs, safe and secure in my little room and contented to watch the carnival of life go by.&lt;br /&gt;There are so many things I want to do in my life. So many dreams I’d like to see come true. So many ambitions I want fulfilled. There are so many places I’d like to visit and things I’d like to do, not only for myself but for others as well.&lt;br /&gt;But for now, I’m still the little girl at the window – watching and waiting – dreaming that someday I too will be a part of the carnival and not a mere distant spectator.&lt;br /&gt;Is the right way to describe myself? I truly don’t know.&lt;br /&gt;And so the question remains, “Who am I really?”&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/1995795166575426524-3453595164409947781?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/3453595164409947781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=3453595164409947781' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/3453595164409947781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/3453595164409947781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/06/who-am-i-really_14.html' title='Who am I really?'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RnDMZaH9IeI/AAAAAAAAAKA/oLkNz72gCd0/s72-c/girl_in_window.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-565931082200982335</id><published>2007-06-03T15:12:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:07.871+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of an ageing Drama Queen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RmJ5PQuXmqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/W2qeelCX1cs/s1600-h/loneliness.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071749433467050658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RmJ5PQuXmqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/W2qeelCX1cs/s400/loneliness.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I’m such a sentimentalist. I find it difficult to discard old stuff because I often attach so much sentimental value to it. It’s the same with my “friends”. When I get to know someone and decide to go a step further in enfolding them into my close circle of friends, it means that I really value them and care for them a great deal. I am there for them in their time of need, I am there to lend a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on … I don’t mind doing favours for them even though at times it may call for a lot of bending back on my part. If I know that they are depressed or upset about something, I let them know that I am there for them in case they feel like opening up and talking and never once have I turned my back on anyone.&lt;br /&gt;I make it a point to keep in touch with my friends, even though we may not have seen each other for a while – I drop them occasional e-mails, text messages and the odd card now and then.&lt;br /&gt;But these past few months have been a real eye-opener for me. I have discovered how true the adage “Laugh and the whole world laughs with you. Cry and you cry alone” is. I have been going through a slightly difficult patch these couple of months and suddenly I discover that my so called “friends” have turned their backs on me. My attempts to meet up with them for a chat or my e-mails and text messages to them have gone unanswered or even if they answer, its always filled with excuses as to how busy they are.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly people don’t want to know if you are having a problem. They pretend as if nothing is the matter. They have no time for you.&lt;br /&gt;People who have time and time again asked favours of me appear to have just discarded me like a piece of trash. Now that I am no longer of use to them, they can’t be bothered about how I am or what is happening in my life. The feeling of betrayal hurts so deeply.&lt;br /&gt;I have been such a fool to have been so trusting, so open and so vulnerable and I have learnt a very bitter lesson. No more will I allow anyone to hurt me or take advantage of me! From now on, this is one selfish bitch! And in the words of Simon &amp;amp; Garfunkel ......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am a rock &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am an island &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I’ve built walls &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A fortress deep and mighty &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That none may penetrate &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I have no need for friendship &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friendship causes pain &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It’s laughter and it's loving I disdain. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am a rock &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am an island &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Don't talk of love &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Well, I've heard the word before &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It’s sleeping in my memory &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I won’t disturb the slumber &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Of feelings that have died &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If I’d never loved, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I never would have cried &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am a rock &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am an island &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I have my books &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And my poetry to protect me &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am shielded in my armour &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hiding in my room &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Safe within my womb &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I touch no-one and no-one touches me &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am a rock &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am an island &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And the rock feels no pain &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And an island never cries&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&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/1995795166575426524-565931082200982335?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/565931082200982335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=565931082200982335' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/565931082200982335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/565931082200982335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/06/confessions-of-ageing-drama-queen.html' title='Confessions of an ageing Drama Queen'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RmJ5PQuXmqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/W2qeelCX1cs/s72-c/loneliness.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-5019829976220056244</id><published>2007-05-29T11:50:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:08.700+07:00</updated><title type='text'>So annoying..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;We all have our own collection of irritations, injustices, and petty pretensions. I came across this gem of collections by Scott Cohen and I’ve selected the ones, I kinda agree on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;Don’t you just hate …..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;1. That Barry Manilow didn’t write his hit song “I Write the Songs.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;2. Having to make that face to people in the hallway at work that implies “Hey.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RluzHAuXmnI/AAAAAAAAAJU/hlimQNGePew/s1600-h/Trying+clothes.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069842738570566258" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RluzHAuXmnI/AAAAAAAAAJU/hlimQNGePew/s400/Trying+clothes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;3. When you try on a garment in a store and think, I wish I could wear this – and then think, I can, I can wear this. So you buy it and never wear it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;4. That your requirements in a mate become stricter as you grow older, and your good looks wane, making it harder to attract even the mediocre people you no longer find acceptable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;5. When your nieces and nephews reach the age when they can distinguish a cheap gift from an expensive one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;. That both Simon and Garfunkel went bald. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;7. When a woman calls out “Thanks a million!” and waves as her car pulls away, and you realise that you just gave her totally wrong directions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;8. When your childhood friend who was always better than you at everything is still better than you at everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;9. The tiny percentage of times that a song dedication played on the radio is actually heard by the person it’s being dedicated to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;10. The feeling you get when you clip your nail too far.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;11. Having something valid to interject into the conversation of two nearby strangers, but knowing that society does not permit you to do so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rlu0KAuXmoI/AAAAAAAAAJc/Qlg3xJME3wI/s1600-h/Older+woman.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069843889621801602" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rlu0KAuXmoI/AAAAAAAAAJc/Qlg3xJME3wI/s400/Older+woman.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;12. That men reach their sexual prime at 19, and women reach their sexual prime at 33 – but it’s far more common to see a 33-year-old man with a 19-year-old woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. That by the time most people have saved enough money to travel the world, they are too old to endure the trip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;14. When your thigh rubs against a leather chair, emitting a loud, ripping noise, and every time you rub your leg against it again, in an attempt to make the same noise to prove to the public that it wasn’t a fart, it sounds nothing like the initial sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;15. Parents who refuse to believe the negative things teachers say about their children at parent-teacher conferences.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;16. Jobs where they try to make you feel better about your salary by giving you a meaningless title like Assistant Director of Postage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;17. The stunning speed with which marriage can destroy a lifelong friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;18. The lingering suspicion, each time you lather up with “2-in-1 shampoo plus conditioner,” that it isn’t quite as effective as applying shampoo and conditioner separately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;19. Being the last person on a long line that no one else seems to be getting on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;20. Wedding toasts that end up being more about the person giving the toast than the bride and groom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069846475192113810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 226px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 129px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="129" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rlu2gguXmpI/AAAAAAAAAJk/1MWXQKacoSI/s400/wedding_speech.jpg" width="250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;To be continued …&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-5019829976220056244?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/5019829976220056244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=5019829976220056244' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/5019829976220056244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/5019829976220056244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/05/so-annoying.html' title='So annoying..'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RluzHAuXmnI/AAAAAAAAAJU/hlimQNGePew/s72-c/Trying+clothes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-9070182410437858132</id><published>2007-05-23T20:27:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:09.866+07:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.jacquiscurve.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;J.T.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;has been nagging me endlessly to get off my lazy butt and write something for my next posting. Yes, I admit I have been afflicted with the lazy bug … but guess its time I write something before JT nags me again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Since both JT and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://akuadablogsendiri.blogspot.com/2007/05/first-love.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;K.C.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;have been talking about their first love, I decided to jump on the bandwagon as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;It’s funny how the years simply cannot erase the memory of the first person that you ever loved. It could have been an infatuation, it could have been a major crush, it could have been puppy love and it could have been simple, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;uncomplicated, innocent love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I first met John (yes, his name was John!) when I was 14. What attracted me to him was the fact that unlike his friends who were loud, boisterous and kept on nudging each other whenever a girl passed by, he was quiet, respectful and had a certain air of dignity in him … and for a 15 year old boy, that was in itself rather unusual.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;The first time I set eyes on this bespectacled, serious looking young man was in church. I belonged to this small chapel and we did not have a resident parish priest. The priest used to come once a week on Saturday evenings to celebrate Mass for us. During one of the school holidays, he decided to bring a car load of altar servers with him, and John was among them.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RlRB7AuXmiI/AAAAAAAAAIs/tOygKpTYRUQ/s1600-h/First+Love.bmp"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067747962761222690" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 185px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 194px" height="220" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RlRB7AuXmiI/AAAAAAAAAIs/tOygKpTYRUQ/s400/First+Love.bmp" width="244" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There were many stolen glances and shy smiles exchanged during that first encounter. Then I used to see him whenever we went to his parish for Mass. Again the stolen glances and shy smiles continued. It was only many months later, during my parish feast day celebration, that I had the courage to go up to him and say ‘hi’ and introduce myself. Of course this would not have been possible without the help of my friend, who went up first and introduced herself, followed by me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course this was the year 1980, when e-mails and hand-phones were not something we were familiar with. So we did the only thing that we could then, we exchanged addresses and kept in touch the old fashioned way. It was through his letters that I got to know him better. John lost his father when he was around 6 years old and could not remember much about him. But he and his brothers had a wonderful upbringing and this was strongly reflected in his personality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our letters were not filled with any words of endearment neither did it have any declarations of love. John was more concerned with our studies and would always advice me to study hard. He even went to the trouble of sending me notes and study tips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was how we kept in touch, until I finished my Form 5. We never went out on dates, we never went for a movie together, we never went out for a drink or anything like that. We never even chatted on the telephone. It was still the smiles and the glances whenever we saw each other in church (which was not too often).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John continued his studies in Form 6 and we still wrote to each other. After I received my SPM results, I decided to apply for the Teachers Training College and so did John. We were both accepted – he to the Teachers Training College in Johor and me – to the Teachers Training College in Terengganu. Unfortunately my mum was not too keen on me going to Terengganu and so I had to reject the offer. John went on to Johor and continued to write to me from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1985, my family and I moved to KL. John and I still kept in touch. When he completed his training after 3 years, he was transferred to Sarawak for two years where his teaching post was in a remote interior. It was a 7 to 8 hour journey from the town to the village and then it was a 3-hour boat ride to the school. But John did not complain despite all the hardships. In fact he said what made it all worth while was when the children would come up and hug him after the class at the end of the day. This was when I decided that I wanted this man to be the father of my children someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it was during his stint in Sarawak that he became more open about his feelings for me. He would write to me to say how much he missed me, he would send me poems and he would tell me how he would gaze up at the stars each night and wish me good night. John always looked forward to my letters so I would send him pages and pages each week and write about almost anything. I knew he was lonely and the letters were his only companion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the school holidays, John would occasionally make a trip up to KL and we would go out for lunch and chat. The trips were not too frequent, but I treasured every moment of it. John was not exactly a romantic, but he was practical, sensitive and when I was with him, I felt safe, secure and loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After John, had finished his two years in Sarawak, he requested for a transfer to Peninsular Malaysia but they asked him to stay on for a couple of years. He was a bit disappointed as he longed to be back with his family and friends. He was then posted to another remote area in Sarawak. I could sense his frustrations, his loneliness and his letters became less and less frequent. One day he wrote to me and told me not to wait for him any longer. He was unsure of his future and he told me that he certainly could not expect me to marry him and come and live with him in Sarawak. I told him I would wait for him, but I guess his mind was made up. He soon stopped writing altogether although I continued to write to him. After a while, when my letters were unanswered, I too stopped writing although I never stopped thinking about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime in the year 2000, I made a trip to Sarawak with some of my church group members and one evening as I was chatting with the priest after dinner, I told him about John … I guess the fact that I was in Sarawak stirred up all my old memories. The priest was very understanding and he suggested that I should try and find out what happened to John and maybe if I was lucky, I could still pick up where we had left off. I was initially apprehensive – it has been more than 10 years since I was last in touch with John, but I realised that I still missed him, and anyway what did I have to lose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After making some enquiries from someone who was from John’s hometown, I discovered that John was now married with two kids and living in Johor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that soon put a stop to my romantic notions of ever hooking up with him again, although I did have a sense of regret. Maybe, just maybe if I had bothered to contact him sooner, I may have had a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RlRDxQuXmjI/AAAAAAAAAI0/Z-Ascih0KoM/s1600-h/First+love2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067749994280753714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 172px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 195px" height="313" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RlRDxQuXmjI/AAAAAAAAAI0/Z-Ascih0KoM/s400/First+love2.jpg" width="183" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A few years ago, I saw his mum’s obituary in the newspaper and I sent him a condolence card. Although I included a short note in the card, I did not include my contact details – I knew that the time had come for me to let go of John completely, he was married now and there was no point in me coming into his life again, even as a friend because I was not sure that I could see him as that – just a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt; have been involved in a couple of relationships since then, but none have lasted because I have never found them fulfilling. Perhaps one reason why I’m still not married is because I’m still waiting for someone just like John to enter my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-9070182410437858132?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/9070182410437858132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=9070182410437858132' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/9070182410437858132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/9070182410437858132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/05/my-first-love.html' title='My First Love'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RlRB7AuXmiI/AAAAAAAAAIs/tOygKpTYRUQ/s72-c/First+Love.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-4920001177759502622</id><published>2007-05-16T11:13:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:10.043+07:00</updated><title type='text'>In a lazy mood!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RkqFMwuXmhI/AAAAAAAAAIk/umHjyOR3yNk/s1600-h/lazy.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065007185215855122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RkqFMwuXmhI/AAAAAAAAAIk/umHjyOR3yNk/s400/lazy.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-4920001177759502622?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/4920001177759502622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=4920001177759502622' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/4920001177759502622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/4920001177759502622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/05/in-lazy-mood.html' title='In a lazy mood!'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RkqFMwuXmhI/AAAAAAAAAIk/umHjyOR3yNk/s72-c/lazy.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-8292977115910106381</id><published>2007-05-10T16:43:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:10.744+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrate her, Indulge her, Love her....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;On Sunday, May 13 we celebrate Mother’s Day. I would like to dedicate this to my mum and to all the wonderful mothers out there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062867120789425426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RkLq0neojRI/AAAAAAAAAIE/yq5inJPGlJc/s400/Happy+Mothers+Day.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Mothers are a special breed of human beings. They’ve got eyes at the back of their heads. They have a dozen arms doing a hundred things at once. They are where you don’t want them to be. They know exactly what you’re thinking and they have a formula to wash your mouth out with soap. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;If that makes them sound like ogres, then yes, they’re the ogres who have nestled us in their wombs long before we came out kicking and screaming in this world. They have instilled character into us, put the flesh on our bones, knocked sense into our heads and guided us through the thinnest and broadest alleys of our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if we tell them, “We couldn’t have done this without you mum”, they’ll say, “Right and don’t forget to brush your teeth before you go to bed, remember to say your prayers, always make sure you take your vitamins, don’t wear anything too promiscuous and keep your legs together at all times!” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062877445890805058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RkL0NneojUI/AAAAAAAAAIc/i8C1MvzMUoQ/s400/PatsMom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt; &lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Motherhood really is the oldest profession. It’s been around since the Big Bang and whether you’re three, 13 or 30, a mother never stops being one. She’s teacher, resident bully, and the lady with the softest heart, the toughest shoulders and the largest lap. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;My favourite memory of my mother? There are too many. What I would like to remember is the way she’d stay up when I came home late, the way she nags me all the time, the way she surprises me with my favourite dish ….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes when I question her judgement and ask her why, her answer is always, “You’ll know when you a mother yourself.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Happy Mother's Day, Mum.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062872060001815842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RkLvUHeojSI/AAAAAAAAAIM/FD_gEzeIzZI/s400/2006-271-after-Mothers-Day.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-8292977115910106381?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/8292977115910106381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=8292977115910106381' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/8292977115910106381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/8292977115910106381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/05/celebrate-her-indulge-her-love-her.html' title='Celebrate her, Indulge her, Love her....'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RkLq0neojRI/AAAAAAAAAIE/yq5inJPGlJc/s72-c/Happy+Mothers+Day.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995795166575426524.post-6850010565827308123</id><published>2007-05-06T02:28:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:50:11.749+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Will You Marry Me?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RjzeMneojNI/AAAAAAAAAHk/pMnL6czkyqc/s1600-h/trainbride.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;An old acquaintance of mine just contacted me to inform me that she was getting married. Of course, two things went through my mind when I hung up after the conversation. One was that she was literally gloating about the fact that she was heading towards the altar before me and number two was that she had never really bothered much to keep in touch, so why now – which brought me back to point number one – to GLOAT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Anyway never mind about that. This got me thinking … about the big ‘P’. How does a couple come to an agreement that they finally wanna get hitched? Is it really romantic – over a candle-light dinner, roses and then the guy gets down on one knee and out comes the ring? Or is it between a commercial break on TV, “Hey honey, wanna get married? I’m free on July 25” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rjzg2XeojQI/AAAAAAAAAH8/tKBVmfx9VH8/s1600-h/Sunrise_illustration.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5061167305877654786" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="308" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rjzg2XeojQI/AAAAAAAAAH8/tKBVmfx9VH8/s400/Sunrise_illustration.jpg" width="188" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Women in general have been brought up on a steady diet of Mills and Boon and as they grow older … on to the steamier ones. So basically we want the works – the man down on one knee, champagne (okay we’ll settle for Sprite or Coke), chocolates and roses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;But I was really disappointed when I checked with some of my gal pals who are now blissfully married – apparently their proposals weren’t in the least bit romantic. Now that they think of it, they wonder how come they let their men off the hook so easily. Surely we women are worth it? Surely the man should plan this down to the teeniest detail?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;A proposal for us gals is this super romantic moment – the culmination of all those months of dating, of wondering “will he – won’t he”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;For a guy, a proposal is a bitter-sweet moment. Yes, he loves you, and yes he wants to marry you and share his life with you. But yes, he also likes being single, being able to hang out with his pals, being able to live like a slob, being able to come and go as he pleases … it’s enough that he has to check in with his mum all the time, but now a wife?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RjzfDHeojOI/AAAAAAAAAHs/9ZcTMD5ZP2s/s1600-h/single+in+heaven.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5061165325897731298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="235" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RjzfDHeojOI/AAAAAAAAAHs/9ZcTMD5ZP2s/s400/single+in+heaven.gif" width="241" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Therefore, to his way of thinking, he’s making this huge sacrifice. He is giving up his freedom and placing himself in the hands of a woman who will tell him when to wake up, when to eat, when to bathe, when to sleep (not that his mum has not been doing this already). So under the circumstances, he is not particularly bothered by the ‘stage settings’. He just wants to get it over and done with and hope that you will say ‘yes’. So while he’s telling you that he loves you, he can’t live without you, he’s the luckiest man on earth - he is actually telling himself that he does not have to worry about who’s gonna do his laundry or cook and clean for him, now that his mum has asked him to move out of the house and fend for himself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;This then should explain why you may not have a tender moment on the beach with glowing sunset and violins in the background when he proposes – because for him, it’s a matter of survival.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Well, no matter where, when or how he proposes, just remember one thing, he may not be your ‘perfect man’ but you know that you do actually love the guy and want to spend your life with him. As for me, I’m still waiting for someone to get down on one knee ….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5061162087492390066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/RjzcGneojLI/AAAAAAAAAHU/UIlR-SgHdOw/s400/Proposal.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995795166575426524-6850010565827308123?l=ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/feeds/6850010565827308123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995795166575426524&amp;postID=6850010565827308123' title='23 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/6850010565827308123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995795166575426524/posts/default/6850010565827308123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ladypatsyschambers.blogspot.com/2007/05/will-you-marry-me.html' title='Will You Marry Me?'/><author><name>Lady Patsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15550646456942030188</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11289536505956883579'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RAKGNdU3CSQ/Rjzg2XeojQI/AAAAAAAAAH8/tKBVmfx9VH8/s72-c/Sunrise_illustration.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>23</thr:total></entry></feed>