<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897</id><updated>2011-07-07T21:47:10.594+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Neverland</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-4080056218096226680</id><published>2010-06-18T15:07:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T18:37:13.467+01:00</updated><title type='text'>José Saramago</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/TBuDJMfGcQI/AAAAAAAAAGA/3DRweoMe3VA/s1600/josesaramago.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/TBuDJMfGcQI/AAAAAAAAAGA/3DRweoMe3VA/s320/josesaramago.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484121165247443202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Died. Yes, José Saramago just died. I know, right? Big SHOCK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I figured I'd spend just a little while talking about José Saramago, for the few yet adorable people who once in a while drop by and read this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;José Saramao was (it's so very strange to use the past tense) one of the most acclaimed portuguese authors. He was born in the country side, and while older moved to Lisbon. He worked as a translator and a journalist before he became a writer. In 1998, José Saramago was awarded with a Nobel Prize In Literature. He was a Communist and an atheist (what's not to like?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of his most well-known books are Memorial do Convento (Baltasar and Blimunda - which is part of the mandatory plan of literature of the portuguese students), Ensaio Sobre a Cegueira (Essay Over Blindness - although wrongly traduced as just Blindness) and Caim (Cain - the story can be figured out by the title). He had a very curious way of writting (although I only read one of his books completely).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's remember him kindly and keep reading his work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1785442881365661897-4080056218096226680?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/4080056218096226680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=4080056218096226680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/4080056218096226680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/4080056218096226680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2010/06/jose-saramago.html' title='José Saramago'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/TBuDJMfGcQI/AAAAAAAAAGA/3DRweoMe3VA/s72-c/josesaramago.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-1398831372125924374</id><published>2010-06-18T14:54:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T15:05:12.956+01:00</updated><title type='text'>People From The Past</title><content type='html'>The other day I was coming out of the subway, on my way home, when I bumped into this guy I had a crush on when I was little. It was just one of those awkward moments. The guy used to go to my school, and he was a true asshole (the crush thing was waaaay back). He was one of these popular kids who wore huge baggy jeans and an overly big har. When I saw he looked much older and had shaved his head (it did not look sexy on him), and because I wasn't sure it was him, just stopped at the entrace (blocking everyone) for the longest five seconds in history. And the worse thing: because I was blocking the entrance (or maybe he recognised me, no idea, I have no intention of ever speaking to him again) he was staring right back at me for the whole time.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;.&lt;'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1785442881365661897-1398831372125924374?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/1398831372125924374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=1398831372125924374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/1398831372125924374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/1398831372125924374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2010/06/people-from-past.html' title='People From The Past'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-188972076439805629</id><published>2010-02-20T01:31:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-02-20T01:31:56.436Z</updated><title type='text'>Would you live forever?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Personally, I wouldn't. And leaving aside the obvious hipothetical concearn of watching all your loved ones die, and even not dying, losing quality of life. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Just imagine to live FOREVER&lt;/span&gt;. That's an awfully long ammount of time. Sure, the first hundreds of years there would be so much to know, so many places to see. But eventually, you'd get tired. And you'd be done. You would have seen everything, and would be tired of it. And more, when someone we love dies, or even as we get older, we often wonder &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what could have been&lt;/span&gt;. And most people regard it as something negative, all things we didn't do. But it also represents all the things we still have to do, all the experiences we have to live. In time, that will end. There would be, eventually, a point where we'd realize we had &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nothing more to offer&lt;/span&gt;, and we were done. That's so terribly frightening, to be worn out. Nothing further to add to the world.&lt;br /&gt;Eternity sounds like an &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;awful punishment&lt;/span&gt;. If offered, I'd probably decline it. But again, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;who to offer such a meanful gift?&lt;/span&gt;&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/1785442881365661897-188972076439805629?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/188972076439805629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=188972076439805629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/188972076439805629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/188972076439805629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2010/02/would-you-live-forever.html' title='Would you live forever?'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-4954284953920375609</id><published>2010-02-15T13:22:00.007Z</published><updated>2010-02-20T01:32:49.767Z</updated><title type='text'>Eternal life?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/S3lN8Rzi5HI/AAAAAAAAAF4/BEYkLOQW584/s1600-h/belize07-08.1194661620.big-fish-tree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/S3lN8Rzi5HI/AAAAAAAAAF4/BEYkLOQW584/s320/belize07-08.1194661620.big-fish-tree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438463722993673330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe it. I think we are born, live, and when we die, we die as a whole, body and soul. No heaven, no purgatory, no reincarnation. And even if I am wrong, this is all we have proofs for.&lt;br /&gt;I have heard many people say "But if we were just born to die, then life has no meaning.". Is it really what you believe? That because life enventually ends, it is meaningless? That must be so sad.&lt;br /&gt;But what if we went to heaven when we died or whatever? What meaning would it add? Following that logic (of track of though, since there isn't any logic in it) our soul wouldn't die, but our life would be over anyway, righ?&lt;br /&gt;We have many years of life, we can't be sure of the rest. Even if you want to believe it so badly, you can't be sure. I intend to make the best out of my years. Eventually dying doesn't make me, or anyone, meaningless. Wating for death does. It's up to us to make our life meaningfull, to be remembered for the ones who live on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have a question:&lt;br /&gt;Would you live forever, if you could?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/1785442881365661897-4954284953920375609?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/4954284953920375609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=4954284953920375609' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/4954284953920375609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/4954284953920375609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2010/02/eternal-life.html' title='Eternal life?'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/S3lN8Rzi5HI/AAAAAAAAAF4/BEYkLOQW584/s72-c/belize07-08.1194661620.big-fish-tree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-2872072158936889363</id><published>2009-12-25T22:53:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-12-25T23:05:08.476Z</updated><title type='text'>Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SzVFAWnMP2I/AAAAAAAAAFw/ZityEFL0P8M/s1600-h/christmas_snoopy-11420.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SzVFAWnMP2I/AAAAAAAAAFw/ZityEFL0P8M/s320/christmas_snoopy-11420.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419313598982537058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like Christmas. Every year my family get together to celebrate it, we dine and watch films and at midnight we gather around a tree and give each other gifs. It's really cute.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I got a food poisoning a couple of days ago and couldn't get out of the house the whole day. It sucked!&lt;br /&gt;It annoys me how people run to shops, buying all kinds of crap. Stupid consuminst society. Don't they see it's more valuable if you spend time with your loved ones insted of in malls buying crap? Oh well. And tomorrow, everyone will be running to the mall to exchange the gifs. After tomorrw, it's because of the sales. Seriously!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;I hope you all had a nice Christmas and had the luck to share it with your family and loved ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1785442881365661897-2872072158936889363?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/2872072158936889363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=2872072158936889363' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/2872072158936889363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/2872072158936889363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas.html' title='Christmas'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SzVFAWnMP2I/AAAAAAAAAFw/ZityEFL0P8M/s72-c/christmas_snoopy-11420.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-1171162217191849085</id><published>2009-12-10T20:29:00.005Z</published><updated>2009-12-10T20:51:57.742Z</updated><title type='text'>Selected?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SyFfO03a2KI/AAAAAAAAAFo/DGm-BMLVZOE/s1600-h/17018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SyFfO03a2KI/AAAAAAAAAFo/DGm-BMLVZOE/s320/17018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413712935389943970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This morning I was walking around the school with a friend, chatting and stuff, when this girl comes to me. I'd seen her before, we have english classes in the same place. "Aren't you going to take your picture?" she said. And I was like "what are you talking about?".&lt;br /&gt;My school, every year makes this thing where we vote for people for stuff like the cuttest, the sweetest and stuff like that. They expose this paper with 4 candidates and there is this social event where I don't really know what happens because I never gave a shit about stuff like this. I mean, come on. I've always been shy, and I never really cared about popular people's stuff and social events where you dress up and dance and what so ever (well, I don't dance, but you know what I mean).&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, the girl came and told me I had been voted for one of the most originals. I was like "you're kidding right?". Those people hate me! They made my life hell. They know who I am because they bully me for my clothes. They definitely don't like me, and have set that pretty clear. (I'm talking general, there's very nice people &lt;3).&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty much in shock. I appreciate it though, it was nice for people to vote in me. And I guess I'll have to be at the social event too... damn, all those people... Big gatherings of people really scare me, I've never done this kind of things... Plus if I win (which I won't, but if I do) I'll have to do a thanking. Getting scarier by the second.&lt;br /&gt;I hope it goes okay.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe when I finish higschool I'll be prom queen hahahah XD. Gosh, I hope not, that would be much more frightening...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1785442881365661897-1171162217191849085?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/1171162217191849085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=1171162217191849085' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/1171162217191849085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/1171162217191849085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/12/selected.html' title='Selected?'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SyFfO03a2KI/AAAAAAAAAFo/DGm-BMLVZOE/s72-c/17018.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-451474243201623562</id><published>2009-12-02T22:02:00.006Z</published><updated>2009-12-02T23:00:27.136Z</updated><title type='text'>Does God Love You?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/Sxbq5DK7PfI/AAAAAAAAAFY/VTIhPKXS0MY/s1600-h/atheism_motivational_poster_29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/Sxbq5DK7PfI/AAAAAAAAAFY/VTIhPKXS0MY/s320/atheism_motivational_poster_29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410770268156804594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Today I went to mass (even though I'm not religious), in the memory of this man I knew.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the preast read this story from the bible, saying all people would be invited to "a feast of rich food for all peoples" once they died. You know, that eternity stuff they keep talking about, but never actually being able to proove? If they have so much nice stuff to give to the nice faithfull believers, why not give it to them in life? Oh well, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;And I thought the passage was so full of love *bitter irony* I just had to blog it: "Moad, the rebel, however, will be trampled under him, as straw is trampled down in the manure." Isn't it just lovely?&lt;br /&gt;They keep talking about their wonderful religion, the power of love, blah blah blah. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;But what do we see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pre-marital sex&lt;/span&gt;? - you're going to hell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Gay&lt;/span&gt;? - you're going to hell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Use condoms&lt;/span&gt;? - going to hell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Not a believer&lt;/span&gt;? - &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HELL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;And I've been told it's all about loving your neighbout and respecting the others&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/1785442881365661897-451474243201623562?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/451474243201623562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=451474243201623562' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/451474243201623562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/451474243201623562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/12/does-religion-love-you.html' title='Does God Love You?'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/Sxbq5DK7PfI/AAAAAAAAAFY/VTIhPKXS0MY/s72-c/atheism_motivational_poster_29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-2145914431592754927</id><published>2009-11-15T17:44:00.009Z</published><updated>2009-11-18T16:24:39.303Z</updated><title type='text'>Being yourselfe</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="400" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/IQd-I5kdsko&amp;hl=pt_PT&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IQd-I5kdsko&amp;hl=pt_PT&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;That's so true. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Once you found out who﻿ you want to be, you just stop caring about people who mock you, because you don't need no one's approval despite your own. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I used to care a lot about what people thought about me. Then I started being made fun because of my clothes, and you know what? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I just stopped caring about what everyone else thought. I was just being me. You can't please everyone, so why not please yourselfe? There are others who like you the way you are. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;And then I wasn't afraid anymore, to embrace my own personality and ideals. You know what, motherfuckers? You guys made me grow a stronger, more self confident person. I guess things don't always turn up the way you expected.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/1785442881365661897-2145914431592754927?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.youtube.com/user/OnisionSpeaks' title='Being yourselfe'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/2145914431592754927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=2145914431592754927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/2145914431592754927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/2145914431592754927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/11/this-video-kicks-ass.html' title='Being yourselfe'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-7325851343663126426</id><published>2009-11-12T21:46:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-11-15T17:42:13.257Z</updated><title type='text'>Helpless</title><content type='html'>Something is really wrong with me. Why can't i just be normal? Happy? Like any other person.&lt;div&gt;Maybe it's not that easy for them either, but still...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, i hate it, I hate all of this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What's wrong with me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1785442881365661897-7325851343663126426?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/7325851343663126426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=7325851343663126426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/7325851343663126426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/7325851343663126426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/11/something-is-really-wrong-with-me_12.html' title='Helpless'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-8886193121246411555</id><published>2009-11-08T01:48:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-11-08T01:59:34.659Z</updated><title type='text'>This is Halloween - pumpkins scream in the death of night!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SvYlqc_Ij9I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/0FjlQfgNTuQ/s1600-h/NightmareBeforeChristmasThe_German.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SvYlqc_Ij9I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/0FjlQfgNTuQ/s320/NightmareBeforeChristmasThe_German.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401546214343217106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Did anybody celebrate Halloween? How was it? Share! :b&lt;div&gt;So mine was nothing much. On the Friday before Halloween, I dragged a bunch of mates who were like "oh halloween is not even a national holiday" to the movie theatre, and we watched the film "The Orphan". It was alright.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then a friend came sleep over, and we spent the Halloween day together, and went downtown.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways. There's this film, which is a must-see for everyone: "The Nightmare Before Christmas" from Tim burton. It's my favourite film, and great for watching particullary on Halloween and Christmas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Mexico there is also a celebration, Dia Dels Muertos (day of the death) on November 2nd. On that day, people remember their loved ones who passed away. They usually go to graveyards and make picnicks, like they were eating with the death, and there's a series of tradictions. They also have this thing, a piñata, which people break, and has sweets in it. (Yeah, I like sweets, can you blame me? XD)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1785442881365661897-8886193121246411555?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/8886193121246411555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=8886193121246411555' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/8886193121246411555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/8886193121246411555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/11/this-is-halloween-pumpkins-scream-in.html' title='This is Halloween - pumpkins scream in the death of night!'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SvYlqc_Ij9I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/0FjlQfgNTuQ/s72-c/NightmareBeforeChristmasThe_German.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-5292795884685995202</id><published>2009-10-23T22:52:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T12:47:09.947+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweden's Lutheran Church Allows Gay Marriage!</title><content type='html'>This is so huge. November 1st will be an important day in history. It's the day where &lt;b&gt;the first church will perform gay marriage&lt;/b&gt; for the first time. Lutherans, of course. (For those who don't know me I figh for gay right, so this is big, and I really admire Martin Luther.) I am so happy right now I think I could explode. Way to go!&lt;div&gt;The news is available at &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/8321502.stm"&gt;BBC.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;More details. 70% of the church board voted for the move. If an individual preast doesn't wish to perform the ceremony, he won't be forced to, but the church will have to found a substitute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"[We] congratulate the Church of Sweden for its decision. [The church's] homosexual and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; bisexual members will finally be able to feel a little more welcome within society," said Sweden's largest gay rights group, the Swedish Federation for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Rights (RFSL).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kisses and three cheers for freedom! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SuI4Mtk9EqI/AAAAAAAAAFI/bNNP9vshW5Q/s320/homofobia.gif" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 91px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395937094587454114" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1785442881365661897-5292795884685995202?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/5292795884685995202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=5292795884685995202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/5292795884685995202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/5292795884685995202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/10/swedens-lutheran-church-will-allows-gay.html' title='Sweden&apos;s Lutheran Church Allows Gay Marriage!'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SuI4Mtk9EqI/AAAAAAAAAFI/bNNP9vshW5Q/s72-c/homofobia.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-116014154965595174</id><published>2009-10-10T22:26:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T22:29:20.742+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Poem in your pocket - take it anywhere</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/StD8S8HhqyI/AAAAAAAAAFA/alOeHLQgzNM/s1600-h/UC6722.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 275px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/StD8S8HhqyI/AAAAAAAAAFA/alOeHLQgzNM/s320/UC6722.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391086156268022562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/StD7Iw5_n0I/AAAAAAAAAE4/MQH5TY0ykTQ/s1600-h/poeminyourpocket.jpg" style="text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;Today I was walking around the city and I went to this library in a place where they used to print up books a while ago. It's pretty cool, it has tons of books and a few paintings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/StD7Iw5_n0I/AAAAAAAAAE4/MQH5TY0ykTQ/s1600-h/poeminyourpocket.jpg" style="text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;I bought this book, which is called "Poem In Your Pocket". It has 200 hundred poems selected by Elaine Bleackney. The idea is that you pick a poem you like, tear it out of the book and carry it around to share and feel inspired by. Isn't it lovely? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;"A poem in your pocket is different. The whole way it works is different. In a way, you can't spend a poem even if you want to. As opposed to money - which seems intent upon getting out of your pocketas though it were a feral animal - a poem settles in. When I say 'pocket' hereh I mean 'mind'. A poem settles into your mind." [Introduction by Kay Ryan]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/1785442881365661897-116014154965595174?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/116014154965595174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=116014154965595174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/116014154965595174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/116014154965595174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/10/poem-in-your-pocket-take-it-anywhere_10.html' title='Poem in your pocket - take it anywhere'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/StD8S8HhqyI/AAAAAAAAAFA/alOeHLQgzNM/s72-c/UC6722.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-1243769599536962102</id><published>2009-10-10T21:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T21:32:44.209+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The girl who silenced the world for five minutes</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TQmz6Rbpnu0&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TQmz6Rbpnu0&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1785442881365661897-1243769599536962102?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/1243769599536962102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=1243769599536962102' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/1243769599536962102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/1243769599536962102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/10/girl-who-silenced-world-for-five.html' title='The girl who silenced the world for five minutes'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-8118492561763013859</id><published>2009-09-27T22:27:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T22:56:10.331+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The eternal hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/Sr_Z9jOosLI/AAAAAAAAAEw/bkFc5MW_r8c/s1600-h/salander1_877632a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/Sr_Z9jOosLI/AAAAAAAAAEw/bkFc5MW_r8c/s320/salander1_877632a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386263330810278066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last night I went to the movie theatre to watch the film Millennium (God, it's out for monts how come it just starred now in here am I living in the end of the world or something?). It's pretty cool and worth seing. I believe american's are soon making a remake - gosh, the rest of the world reads subtitles, why can't they? I mean how lazy is it, does everything have to be in english? Come on!&lt;div&gt;Anyway, there was this man, who raped and murdered women, and he was explaning how he just killed them not to get caught, though he loved watching hope vanish from their eyes when they realized he was going to kill tem. And it let me wondering...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;People always expect mercy, don't they? No matter how faithless they are in mankind, they always have that little lack of fate, that maybe it will be different to them. That their loved ones won't die, at least not yet, that they won't get the epidemy, that there won't show up some freak and kill them for no reason, that god will have pity. Okay, so I don't believe this shit. Perhaps that's because I'm still young, and I'm just not too worried. But perple die, it's painfull, but it's a natural part of life. And who wants to live forever anyway?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I never understood those people who said they wished they could last forever. Who wanted Herbert West to just show up and find out the cure of death. I mean, what a fucking nightmare! My worst nightmare would definitely be live forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yet somehow this is one of religion's most concearn, isn't it? God having mercy, good people having 2nd chances (I don't believe in that either, but that's not important right now) nad blah blah. So untrue. Good people die. There is not an old guy giving second chances to the good men, and punishing the bad ones. Or if there is, he's doing an awful job. The only one who actually punishes the ones who deserves to die is any Rorschach/ Dexter/ Kira kind of criminal, of course it's undeniable that any of those people would deserve death to...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it good, that we have this kind of hope? I believe so, anyway. I am sure of the infinit hability of people to let un down, and yet, I believe so much that I can change things, if I want to. That kind of hope is what keeps me going. It's so lame XD. Anyway, I believe that people having that kind of hope is what keeps them going...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm curious to know what other people think of this matter, and also, of the etternal life/ after death life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Curious how all this came from the film huh... I should just stop thinking once and for all...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1785442881365661897-8118492561763013859?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/8118492561763013859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=8118492561763013859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/8118492561763013859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/8118492561763013859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/09/eternal-hope.html' title='The eternal hope'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/Sr_Z9jOosLI/AAAAAAAAAEw/bkFc5MW_r8c/s72-c/salander1_877632a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-8129154389068808853</id><published>2009-09-10T17:12:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T22:10:11.414+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Back at school and the past year bullying story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SqklaCs19rI/AAAAAAAAAEo/r13Rdo-N79w/s1600-h/1235961522_3177_full.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 245px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SqklaCs19rI/AAAAAAAAAEo/r13Rdo-N79w/s320/1235961522_3177_full.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379872359202551474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Unfortunately, holidays are over. Today I went to school for the presentation. They tell us the timetable, our teachers and the new classes. I was so nervous this morning. The idea of going back to that place was just unbearable. First of all, it scared me to have to deal with so many people. So many eyes on me, judjing me, ready to start speaking bad stuff about me as soon as I turn my back. I was all shaky and my heart was popping so fast I think it could explode...&lt;br /&gt;It wasen't as bad as I expected. Still, I hate to go back there. Last year I got a lot of problems. I dress kind of goth, and they bullied me like nothing I had ever seen them doing. It was the entire school. Of course I dealt with it, I had to. I'm not the kind of person who changes to be accepted. Besides, if those people treated me like that because of my clothes, I could never relate to them. Anyway, it got so bad that it got to the principal. But ohh noo, instead of talking to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, teach &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; accept the differences and care about the inside (it's a catholic school, they are always talking about that), no. He called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. I had done &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, yet somehow it was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;my fault&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, I was the freak in there. He forbidden a bunch of my clothes. Of corse it didn't end the bullying. I had few teachers by my side, and they could do nothing. He called me to his office and threatened to kick me out of school. BECAUSE OF MY CLOTHES! And I had stopped wearing anything that could shock the minds of those little childen: no more combat boots, no more spiked bracelets, no more make-up, no more arm warmers and bracelets, plus a bunch of stull. I only wore black. Does it matter so much? Apparently it did.&lt;br /&gt;I hate him now, I can't even look at him. That attitude of his shocked me more that any kid of my age could. Because from him, I expected either silence, or a reasonable attitude.&lt;br /&gt;Well, anyway, I'll be in that hell one more year.&lt;br /&gt;So today, when I was arriving at school, there was him on the way. I went around and waked in opposit direction. That's what I do now, if he doesn't see me, I don't get as many troubles.&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the day was fine. I spent time with some friends of mine and chatted with the people in my class (I was amazed, when I got all the bullying/clothes/principal complications, my class never made fun on me, and they actually were by my side - I really like them. And if it weren't for my class director having asked me to stay in school one more year, I probably wouldn't have. She's really nice actually. (: ) Then I just walked home with a long-date friend.&lt;br /&gt;It was nice. I just hope the rest of the year goes okay. Or at least not as bad as last year.&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/1785442881365661897-8129154389068808853?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/8129154389068808853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=8129154389068808853' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/8129154389068808853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/8129154389068808853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/09/back-at-school-and-past-year-bullying.html' title='Back at school and the past year bullying story'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SqklaCs19rI/AAAAAAAAAEo/r13Rdo-N79w/s72-c/1235961522_3177_full.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-6966522874631650723</id><published>2009-09-10T01:34:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T01:56:09.639+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to school</title><content type='html'>So, later today (it's about 2 am right now), I'll be back at school. Well, classes will only start tomorrow, but today will be the presentation. I already know my class. And the whole school actually. Not the nicest people in the world. Or, by other words, it's hell. They hate me, and make my life miserable. I'll probably spend most time on my own, but that's just usual. I'm curious though. There will be 3 new people at my class. I wonder if they're nice people. Probably not.&lt;div&gt;Gosh, I hate so much to have to get back there... I can't even sleep...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is there anyone else to whom the idea of getting bach to school seams unbearable? Or am I the only one afraid?&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/1785442881365661897-6966522874631650723?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/6966522874631650723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=6966522874631650723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/6966522874631650723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/6966522874631650723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/09/back-to-school.html' title='Back to school'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-4238781175111113212</id><published>2009-08-31T22:29:00.009+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T11:16:52.683+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Liar</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SpxFruHSLnI/AAAAAAAAAEg/TrRBvFF8rv4/s1600-h/fake_smile___real_tears____by_t0xically.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 275px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SpxFruHSLnI/AAAAAAAAAEg/TrRBvFF8rv4/s320/fake_smile___real_tears____by_t0xically.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376248672588803698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So, I was wondering: how honest are we to the people around us?&lt;div&gt;I have seen myselfe faking so many times. Fake smiles, lying every time someone asked "how are you", making people believe I was happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is that the right thing to do? You'd think it would be better to just be honest with people (well, our friends, I mean. Not any stanger...). But if you look well at it... would it really be good to put the weight of your emotions and your problems over someone else? Somehow, I find it just easier and safer to lie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And what about how we see people? Can we really see through their desguises, distinguish when somebody is lying and when he's telling the truth? Personally, I believe we only see what people want us to see. The rest is sort of invisible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1785442881365661897-4238781175111113212?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/4238781175111113212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=4238781175111113212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/4238781175111113212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/4238781175111113212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/08/honesty-towards-other-people.html' title='Liar'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SpxFruHSLnI/AAAAAAAAAEg/TrRBvFF8rv4/s72-c/fake_smile___real_tears____by_t0xically.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-9158877371841165914</id><published>2009-08-15T16:24:00.012+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T23:54:16.977+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A Clockwork Orange</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SobYV4vD3MI/AAAAAAAAAEM/DxZvJ1jHj1s/s1600-h/a-clockwork-orange-2-border-removed.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SobYV4vD3MI/AAAAAAAAAEM/DxZvJ1jHj1s/s320/a-clockwork-orange-2-border-removed.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370217476204518594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A Clockwork Orange is a Book written by Anthony Burgess. It's about a guy, Alex, that goes around with his 3 mates robbing houses, beating up people and raping women. He was also a great fan of classical music, specially Beethoven's Ninth. One day he gets arrested and the government trys on him an experiment, to force him to be good, not by his own free will, but by a excutiaing pain that he feels making wrong. It's a great book, very interestingly written. The  author creates a kind of lange, that the teens were supposed to talk at that time in the future, called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Nadsat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. Nadsat is a mix of regular english, slang and russian.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SobXWZAUfII/AAAAAAAAADs/_G8IpjK0lHE/s320/a_clockwork_orange_large_01.jpg" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 234px; " border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370216385355218050" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The film is great too. It was directed by Stanley Kubrick, with Malcom McDowell playing Alex (an amazing performance, I must say!).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SobXWquhIeI/AAAAAAAAAD0/RIrEDQ3hnSU/s320/sjff_01_img0111.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370216390112387554" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;"Our pockets were full of deng, so there was no real need from the point of view of crasting any more pretty polly to tolchock some old veck in an alley and viddy him swim in his blood while we counted the takings and divided by four, nor to do the ultra-violent on some shivering starry grey-haired ptitsa in a shop and go smecking off with the till’s guts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;But, as they say, money isn’t everything&lt;/i&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SobXVxXuoSI/AAAAAAAAADk/ECzjJOJyvis/s320/clockwork_big.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 209px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370216374715982114" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The attempt to impose upon man, a creature of growth and capable of sweetness, to ooze juicily at the last round the bearded lips of God, to attemptto impose,Isay, laws and conditions appropriate to a mechanical creation, against this I raise my sword- pen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/1785442881365661897-9158877371841165914?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/9158877371841165914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=9158877371841165914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/9158877371841165914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/9158877371841165914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/08/clockwork-orange.html' title='A Clockwork Orange'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SobYV4vD3MI/AAAAAAAAAEM/DxZvJ1jHj1s/s72-c/a-clockwork-orange-2-border-removed.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1785442881365661897.post-1064557985710325862</id><published>2009-08-15T02:07:00.012+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T23:05:39.604Z</updated><title type='text'>First Post!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoYLczdFy8I/AAAAAAAAADc/O_prHvEvxIk/s1600-h/M_Ryden.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 264px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoYLczdFy8I/AAAAAAAAADc/O_prHvEvxIk/s320/M_Ryden.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369992195162360770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Hello!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I'm Magda, from Portugal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I decided to start blogging - I'm kinda new at this btw. I will use this both as a journal and a place to talk about and discuss things that I find interesting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I hope you enjoy it. Leaving comments with critics, opinions and suggstions would be nice. Besides the regular comments place, there's that pink &amp;amp; black box on the side, feel free to use it for commenting and chatting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;See you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1785442881365661897-1064557985710325862?l=just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/feeds/1064557985710325862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1785442881365661897&amp;postID=1064557985710325862' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/1064557985710325862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1785442881365661897/posts/default/1064557985710325862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://just-a-broken-doll.blogspot.com/2009/08/first-post.html' title='First Post!'/><author><name>Broken Doll</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10677499389534487275</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoXsAHDU5II/AAAAAAAAACs/dYGSvRrI8KQ/S220/x3g1lv.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pH9z3Q8kOrU/SoYLczdFy8I/AAAAAAAAADc/O_prHvEvxIk/s72-c/M_Ryden.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
