<?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-4260457579017351814</id><updated>2011-11-28T03:04:39.717+02:00</updated><category term='holiday'/><category term='summer'/><category term='music'/><category term='breakup'/><category term='jobs'/><category term='vacation'/><category term='sports'/><title type='text'>The Soundtrack of Me</title><subtitle type='html'>Thanks for stopping by. Take some time and get to know me, get to understand why I never skip a beat; find out what music means to me, read my memories or take a trip into my imagination.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-5850419432688882840</id><published>2010-06-07T14:40:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T14:51:58.401+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='summer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holiday'/><title type='text'>Aievea</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:verdana, serif;font-size:x-small;"&gt;The rushing cars, the sirens, the sound of the city... The birds, the trees, the rustle of nature. An open window brings them all closer, brings them inside. Half naked, laying on the bed in a completely scattered fashion, covers mostly under you, head turned towards said window. Tasting the breeze, feeling trapped, but always knowing you're not locked in. You can always get out. You just don't want to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;A night on the town, blinding lights, riding along streets lost and unknown. Discovering places, discovering people, finding wonder. It's as if you can almost smell the saltwater, and sand. It's your own town becoming exotic to you, like a lover playing the role in your fantasy. You know it so well, but there's so much that's new.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;Time is not of this place. Time is not in your memory. Memories are timeless. You are always as young as you remember, and all possibilities are open ahead of you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;Tasting the night, hearing the blinding lights call, touching the rush of the city... Surreal...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Vali Barbulescu &lt;/b&gt;- &lt;i&gt;Aievea&lt;/i&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/4260457579017351814-5850419432688882840?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/5850419432688882840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=5850419432688882840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/5850419432688882840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/5850419432688882840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2010/06/aievea.html' title='Aievea'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-7381179301875621432</id><published>2009-02-19T21:08:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T21:29:24.419+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Holding on</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I woke up that next morning... The memory of her so alive, so palpable... The thoughts in my head so vivid. My eyes closed, my eyelids caressed by the light of the mid-day sun. Why did I get up so late? Oh, my god... I was late for work...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I opened my eyes, and realized the curls of hair touching my hand were not my own. My dream... it was true. There she was, asleep, laying naked next to me, half covered by the soft blue sheet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I was dumbfound. That's right... she came. She was supposed to be here, but I'd have never imagined it would go this far. I thought it was a dream. We stood up all night, into the wee hours of the morning. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We'd laughed about the subway ride... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We showered together... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; I'd picked her up at the train station last night... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I had stripped her clothes off of her one by one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We did have that pillow fight... It had all happened, even though I couldn't put it all back in order. And she was so far away into her dreams, undisturbed by my inner turmoil.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;As it all started to make sense, I gently wiped her unkempt hair away from her face, back behind her ear, and over her naked shoulder, and just stared blank at her... through her... into her... She wiggled her nose, and gently opened her eyes. She was, for a moment, just as confused as I had been, but she soon came to, and smiled. I smiled back...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;'Now what?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;'I have no idea...'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;'...I could get used to this.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;'I don't think we should...'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ferry Corsten ft. Shelley Harland &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Holding On&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&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/4260457579017351814-7381179301875621432?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/7381179301875621432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=7381179301875621432' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/7381179301875621432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/7381179301875621432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2009/02/holding-on.html' title='Holding on'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-6037721097314827435</id><published>2009-01-26T21:38:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T21:58:12.707+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Eternal Odyssey</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;When you're in an argument you can't see a way out of, you always wish the others would agree with you. How wrong is that? What if everybody agreed with everybody about everything? Take a minute, think about it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mind you, it's not everybody agreeing with you, but with everyone else, about everything. Anything you could think of... That would require we all knew everything. Yes, everything there is to know about anything. We'd know what makes good music good. We'd know what makes a movie bad. We'd know how the universe is structured, and how our reality unfolds. We'd know anything, beyond any shadow of doubt. Anything would have a scale to use in order to weigh it up to anything else. There would be only right or wrong, true or false. Because we'd know everything. There would be no 'ifs' or 'buts'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;We'd need no currency, as we'd all agree how to share our resources. There would be no doubt upon the fairness of sharing. Nobody would question the status quo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'd have no tastes. There would be no room for error. We'd all be the same. You could love or hate anybody all the same. They'd all agree with your feelings. Everything would be perfect, and nobody would make mistakes, because we would all know beforehand what would happen if we strayed. And if we strayed, and everybody would agree with us, then there would be no mistake to actually start about, would there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wouldn't need to think, since we already know everything. We wouldn't need to speak, because everybody else would know what we'd say. Silence would encompass all. We would sit and watch our existence pass, and we would live forever, as life will have had given us all it's knowledge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There would be no conversations. Because nobody talks about stuff they completely agree on. There would be no challenge, no proof, no arguments. There would be no gossip, no eavesdropping, no shrugging. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;We'd stop singing songs about love, and making movies about war. We'd have no purpose, no pursuit, no quest and no rewards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So please, disagree with me, and make my life interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Delerium&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Eternal Odyssey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&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/4260457579017351814-6037721097314827435?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/6037721097314827435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=6037721097314827435' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/6037721097314827435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/6037721097314827435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2009/01/eternal-odyssey.html' title='Eternal Odyssey'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-2392019073264963600</id><published>2008-12-11T19:00:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T19:11:54.172+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>To the Moon and Back</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Every evening, every morning... day and night in between, i see people going about their lives, oblivious to my presence. We all wonder around, searching for things that are right in front of us. I can't even recall the last time I saw somebody smile on their own on the subway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't people have fond memories anymore nowadays? What happened to your dreams? What happened to mine? It takes but a gust of wind to carry a scent that rouses the memory. I often find myself smiling. Out of nowhere... Out of nowhere to others, for inside me, something stirred by some distant omen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What made this world so cold, so careless? Why have our souls darkened? Have we forgotten how to smile? Is there something that keeps us from being happy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all the kicks I've been getting these last few months, there is a lot to my life that makes it worth smiling for. I've been waiting for somebody to smile with me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Savage Garden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To the Moon and Back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&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/4260457579017351814-2392019073264963600?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/2392019073264963600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=2392019073264963600' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/2392019073264963600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/2392019073264963600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2009/01/to-moon-and-back.html' title='To the Moon and Back'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-6658546608202355063</id><published>2008-09-24T12:51:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T13:00:05.682+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>I Bruise Easily</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;It's been a long time... I've been doing a lot of thinking, and came to realize that, in the rush of things, we rarely ever think of people we affect... I rarely think about them... I've thought of all the times I said mean things to people who let me into their hearts, and all the times I've hurt those who didn't deserve it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, it's all made worse by the fact that most of my friends are girls. And I know that as time has passed, I've hurt some of them a lot. The words I said, the things i did... Or those I never said or did. They all left their mark. I know it's too late for a lot of them to find this out, care about it, or even read it. But, at least now, I know how sorry I am about all of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could have done so much to make things better, and I probably never realized just how wicked I was. I left a lot of bruises behind, on kind and gentle souls who opened up and let me in. I've come to know how it feels to have this happen to me. And now... all that's left for me to do is apologize, even though nobody will probably care about it now. At least I know, for my own peace, that I did the right thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Natasha Bedingfield&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;"&gt;I Bruise Easily&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/4260457579017351814-6658546608202355063?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/6658546608202355063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=6658546608202355063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/6658546608202355063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/6658546608202355063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-bruise-easily.html' title='I Bruise Easily'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-221198028401467170</id><published>2008-08-05T17:01:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T17:21:17.898+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Perfect Time of Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I've come to a realisation given the recent flow of events and the fact that I nearly died twice in  the last couple of months. I've been spending too much time concerning myself with plans for the next 10, 20, 30 years. Truth of the matter is, I've been setting stuff aside, because I want to have a secure future. But I've just recently thought: if I die today, would I be happy with what I've done? Am I having as much fun as I'd like to?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I'm gonna start doing some stuff people will think are unlike me. Because I've challenged myself with this: "stop caring what others think, start doing what you want". Why? Because my left palm has a really short lifeline drawn on it. I'm not particularly superstitious, but I don't wanna give it the slightest chance. I wanna do all I can, so when that day comes, I'll go with a smile on my face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There's no way of buying time. You can work your time away for money, but in the end, you're just gonna be in a suit surrounded by wood lying six feet under with all your silver pilfered to the four winds. So what did you waste your life on? I love my work, and that's what kept me going the past two months. But now, I feel that, with a new job and leaving the past 4 years of my life behind, I'm starting anew. I wanna make this life the one I wish for, and the one I know that I deserve.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I don't have time to plan, I don't have time to regret. Not anymore. From now on, the present moment takes precedence to all other cares and worries. Past and future will play the background of a brilliant present. There are many ways of having your plans turned upside down, so why bother?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Howie Day&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Perfect Time of Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/4260457579017351814-221198028401467170?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/221198028401467170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=221198028401467170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/221198028401467170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/221198028401467170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/08/perfect-time-of-day.html' title='Perfect Time of Day'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-4558737752097595939</id><published>2008-07-25T16:13:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:12:15.617+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Dancing Water</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Let's try something different this time...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/SInSmO0UL6I/AAAAAAAAADA/_DHMPN-EVPQ/s1600-h/SL270899mod.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/SInSmO0UL6I/AAAAAAAAADA/_DHMPN-EVPQ/s200/SL270899mod.jpg" alt="The waves..." id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226940396794556322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/SInSmYaOHvI/AAAAAAAAADI/Tf6k-yGnNoI/s1600-h/SL270900mod.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/SInSmYaOHvI/AAAAAAAAADI/Tf6k-yGnNoI/s200/SL270900mod.jpg" alt="They dance..." id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226940399369461490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/SInSmdHL7CI/AAAAAAAAADQ/hhrJRqxGOm0/s1600-h/IMG_2638mod.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/SInSmdHL7CI/AAAAAAAAADQ/hhrJRqxGOm0/s200/IMG_2638mod.jpg" alt="On the restless sea." id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226940400631802914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jedidja&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dancing Water&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/4260457579017351814-4558737752097595939?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/4558737752097595939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=4558737752097595939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/4558737752097595939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/4558737752097595939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/07/dancing-water.html' title='Dancing Water'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/SInSmO0UL6I/AAAAAAAAADA/_DHMPN-EVPQ/s72-c/SL270899mod.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-8947006327754528550</id><published>2008-06-05T12:35:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T12:50:54.131+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Beautiful Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I used to hate mornings... But today, it's all different. I woke up, got out of bed, washed up, and got ready to go. Had to chase down the subway train... twice. But, as I got out of the tube, I had a moment I'll always remember.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Going up the escalator, fate conspired with my ipod, and shuffled in this track. A smirk came on my face. Sunlight blinded me for a split second, and as I breathed in the air, I just stood there and stared. I stared long and hard at a tree. Yes, at a tree. It was all green,... the kind of green you can rarely see on a plant for more than one day. The leaves were rustling in the wind, mixing their colors, and spreading the smell of lime. It was splendid. No cloud was in sight, just glaring sunlight, and the green of the tree, and the grass under it. As I regained my senses, for I'd lost them for the briefest of moments, mixed up in the instant, I could hear birds singing, and if I tensed hard enough, I thought I could even hear their wings flutter. I just felt like spreading my arms out, and taking all of this in. So what if people stare? They don't know, nor do they care to understand. And I have no time to explain. I just need time to enjoy each moment like this in my own way. It's summer. I've been waiting for this for so long. The end of spring brings new life to nature, and so will it to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This summer will be a new begining, the start of a new life. With good, with bad, I'm still living out my dream, and I won't let anybody or anything stand in the way of that. I've made up my mind. Learning to let go was something I should have perhaps done long ago. Now, I just had to. And just about now, it all started actually feeling good. I've been alone for most of my life, and somehow, I know this is for the best. I know it'll all be fine, and just like the lime tree, I'll grow again, and again, and birds will always sing for me, and the sun will always shine inside my heart. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's a beautiful day... Don't let it get away... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;U2 -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Beautiful Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/4260457579017351814-8947006327754528550?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/8947006327754528550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=8947006327754528550' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/8947006327754528550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/8947006327754528550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/06/beautiful-day.html' title='Beautiful Day'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-4562816286389859409</id><published>2008-05-25T22:22:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T09:56:32.286+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='breakup'/><title type='text'>Questions Unanswered</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There are so many things I'd like to say to you, and so many questions I have no answer for. I'm so confused... I don't understand why... why us, why now, why so... I can't help thinking there was another way... a better way...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's hard, oh, so hard to talk to you, to listen to you, to look at you... I miss you. I miss you being like you used to be. It hurts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I don't know how to act... I don't know what to do, because I've never been through this before. I love you... I don't know what I should do now. I don't know how to love you less. I don't understand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I want to hold your hand, to hug you, to kiss you, to make love to you, to lay in bed with you as my cover, to tickle you, to touch you, to massage you... But all this is not for me to do anymore. And I thought it would be forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Am I allowed to say I miss you? May I still tell you 'I love you'? How often? Am I still allowed to love you? Am I allowed to show you I love you? I can't tell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;What happened? Where did all that was between us go? Who are you and what have you done to my girlfriend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I'd do anything to turn back time. I'd do anything to not have been late. I'd give up anything. I'd walk through fire. But it would be for nothing, perhaps.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They told me to wait... that we will make up. They told me it happens. They told me it would all be fine. But I never knew what 'fine' meant before there was you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For four years, you were my lover, my friend, my mother, my sister... you played all the parts I needed in turn. And now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You are my world, and I don't know how to live without you. You caught me and tamed me, and now I can't be on my own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I want to respect your desires and needs. I want to do what you'd like me to. But it's not very clear to me what that means.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It feels I'm lying to myself now more than ever. I don't know what you feel, but I was honest. Every time I meant it when I said I loved you. And I still am. It's hard pretending not to love you. It's hard to hide. It's hard not to cry. And I want to be next to you more than ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It hurts to know that you're not well, and I can't help thinking... why are we doing this, if neither of us is better off like this? Is there no other way?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I miss you... I miss you so much...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I love you...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ducu Berti&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;M-am Indragostit Numai de Ea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4260457579017351814-4562816286389859409?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/4562816286389859409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=4562816286389859409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/4562816286389859409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/4562816286389859409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/05/questions-unanswered.html' title='Questions Unanswered'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-2718181059497772766</id><published>2008-05-24T10:44:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T22:36:05.853+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='breakup'/><title type='text'>The Story and Soundtrack of Us... The epilogue.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Four years later, it was over. You knew it wasn't like it used to be. It didn't feel like it should. You needed something else. And although it hurt like hell (it was the first time I ever hurt so bad physically), I decided it would be unwise to stand in your way, and risk losing you, my best friend. I'd rather keep the friendship that grew nurtured by our love, than risk even that forcing our time together. 'If you love somebody, set them free.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can't measure love. It doesn't have weight or height. It hasn't any density, any constants or laws by witch you could measure it. But you should know that I love you with all my heart. You were the first ever to give me such a feeling, and you'll always have a special place in my heart. "Just because somebody doesn't love you the way you want, doesn't mean they don't love you with all their being." I know now, that time will come, and time will pass, but it will be forever before I forget you. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;William Orbit and Finley Quaye&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&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/4260457579017351814-2718181059497772766?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/2718181059497772766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=2718181059497772766' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/2718181059497772766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/2718181059497772766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/05/story-and-soundtrack-of-us-epilogue.html' title='The Story and Soundtrack of Us... The epilogue.'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-5840608144802393632</id><published>2008-05-24T09:55:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T22:36:28.117+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='breakup'/><title type='text'>The Story and Soundtrack of Us... The prologue.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;4 Years ago, on this day, I had no idea how you'd change my life. If you'd have told me then, I would laugh out loud at you. Love was not a word in my vocabulary, and 4 years only meant the distance between 29th of Februaries. On cool June morning waiting in front of the train station, I saw you for the first time. You were not very interesting then... But by the next day, it would all change. We played soccer on the beach, you were our goalie. You blocked a few shots on the goal, so I patted your shoulder and congratulated you. We went into the water, splashed and wrestled. That first evening we played cards, told jokes, and had some high-school fun. The next day... I don't know how we got there, but we fought with pillows, and I gave you a massage... and we kissed. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Activ&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Doar cu Tine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember how it felt when we fell asleep in each others arms? One week got us further than the next 3 months would. Falling asleep next to you, with the smell of seawater, sand and summer, and the gentle breeze caressing our skin. It was pure solace... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cocktail&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pana-n Zori&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And did you know? Did you even fathom what it would become? I think it was love at first sight, actually... Who would have thought we'd turn a summer fling into the plans we had. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David Morales feat. Lea Lorien&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How Would You Feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And your birthday... you turned 17 then. The teddy... 'Smotocel'... I still have the pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tiesto &lt;/span&gt;- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Close to You&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Later that autumn, laying in my bed, I told you I loved you, and you said it back. It was the first time it ever rang so true to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Delerium&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Forgotten Worlds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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 class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4260457579017351814-5840608144802393632?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/5840608144802393632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=5840608144802393632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/5840608144802393632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/5840608144802393632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/05/story-and-soundtrack-of-us-prologue.html' title='The Story and Soundtrack of Us... The prologue.'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-7790999352131395258</id><published>2008-05-09T12:07:00.011+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T13:05:20.711+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jobs'/><title type='text'>Find (pt. 2 - The People)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So it's been a whole month now since I've started work. During that time, I've gotten to know all the people on my team, and a few others.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What baffled me initially was that the FHWII team is made up of (only) 17 people, with 3 of us being juniors (n00bs). Why would that be astounding? Because we're expected to deliver a full blown A+ title in less than a year. People say we'll be growing quite a bit in the coming months, but, as far as I'm concerned, we're fine right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So, we have 1 Producer, 1 Art Director and 1 Environment Artist, Senior and Junior Game Designers (one of each), 2 Level Designers, 1 2D Graphic/Texture, 1 Character/Concept Artist, 1 3D Graphics, and the rest of us, programmers (2 Juniors).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;... and we're gonna kill the market come spring. Mark my words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The people themselves, are however at times far more interesting than the work on the project. On my first day here, I was only briefly introduced to my mentor (the producer), and left to get to know the others on my own. That first week, everybody was busy with some design meetings, but I managed to pull some time off them and talk to a few of them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Across the desk from me, is Andrei, our Art Director/Lead Game Designer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;First impression on Andrei was: weird clothes, weird haicut, must be a concept artist or something. But, on that first evening, I got to introduce myself, and shake his hand. I was stunned when he said "Andrei Fantana".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;If you don't know who that is, you haven't followed romanian gaming for the past 15 years or so; google it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It was I think 1996. The first time I ever layed my hands on a games magazine. "Game Over" read the title, and it was the first of it's kind I saw written in Romanian. Inside, articles and reviews about the games of the time: Quake, Heretic 2, etc. I still have that issue at home (I actually have 2 crates of games magazines I've collected over time... talking about this with my girlfriend at some point, she said that a girl's reading habits grow with her: seventeen magazine, bravo, popcorn -&gt; elle, cosmopolitan, etc. where as mine remained constant... I said I knew what I wanted in life early on; but men's habits evolve also; ergo, the third crate of magazines in my stash is filled with FHMs; so yeah, it's basically gaming and &lt;span style="text-decoration: line-through;"&gt;women&lt;/span&gt; lifestyle). I can still recall reading through the articles that formed my first opinions about games and gaming; some of them were signed 'afantana'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It was like meeting the father you never knew; the person who influenced your whole life in some way or another, without actually being there. Had I never picked up that issue of the magazine, I might not have been here today. And so the story came full circle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;During the past weeks, I got to know people around here better (at least now I know all their names). An have also looked into people working for Ubisoft but on other teams. It's nice to be sharing (at least) the virtual community with people like Jordan Mechner, Yannis Malat, Patrice Desilets or Jade Raymond. It feels brilliant to have the names that have actually changed the industry at just a click away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And if you can't relate to my story, think about the person that inspired you to go the way you're heading, and imagine how it would feel to work with them, and learn from them every day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;That's what get's me out of bed at 8:30 sharp every morning. And you? What are your expectations from your life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;RidgeWalkers feat. El&lt;/span&gt; - Find&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&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/4260457579017351814-7790999352131395258?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/7790999352131395258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=7790999352131395258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/7790999352131395258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/7790999352131395258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/05/find.html' title='Find (pt. 2 - The People)'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-294138674290819417</id><published>2008-04-16T13:42:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T14:42:04.762+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jobs'/><title type='text'>Rise Up (pt. 1 - The Place)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's been a week now, since I've started living my dream... It's been a week of discovery and awe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;To my friends, my dream of being a game developer in a big company should be nothing new. They've made fun of my determination to work at Blizzard ever since I first said it out loud (I was in the 7th grade then). Well, slowly but surely, I'm making my way toward it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;As of last Monday (April 7th) I'm an employee of Ubisoft Bucharest. In a few words, Ubisoft is the 3rd largest video game publisher this side of the ocean (Europe). If you want the detailed figures, look them up. My job title is "Junior C, C++ Game Developer", shorter said, I'm a programmer (more exactly gameplay programmer).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After this glimpse of time I've been here, I can already tell you the truth of the saying "Find something &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; love to do and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;’ll never &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;have to work a day in your life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I never thought it could be so nice to have an 8 hour working schedule. I never thought I could love waking up at 8 in the morning (as you might already know, I've never been a morning person). And most of all, I'd have never believed I could want to stay in after work hours. And it's not because of any big 'Wow!' discovery, but all the little 'Oh!' moments that make their way into every day I spend here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;First of all this comes from the fact that respectful multi-national companies cherish their employees. A happy employee is a productive employee. As such, they gave their all to have us satisfied (well, there's always room for improvement, we don't have free ice cream, and we don't wear silky PJs and bunny slippers at work, but comparing to other employment opportunities around, I'd say we're pretty privileged... and I think I'll try coming in to work in silky PJs and bunny slippers, just to see if anybody minds).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Our office building is 5 stories high, divided in two major sides, and we share it with 3 other companies (Gameloft, AMA, and Guillemot). It used to be a parking lot, but it's come a long way from there. The automatic doors and card based access past the reception area are just the tip of the iceberg. The location is open 24/7, we have a doorman and receptionists, and there is no other conduit for entering aside the badge (you need it to open doors). We don't have offices... at least not what people usually understand by the term (there are offices for HR, Sales, and Management, but not for Production).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We work in teams (structure is almost strictly hierarchical), each team with it's own share of people for each of the positions required to make a game. And we're bunched up in HUGE rooms. The one I'm currently sitting in is shared by about 5 teams (FHMKT, FH, SH, MNG, ChA - I'll let you speculate on the meanings of those). We each have our own desks, PCs (I'm talking 3GHz q-cores with 2G RAM, LCD screens and other mouth watering bits), and dev units ( big, ugly black boxes with lots of switches and cables and sparkling lights). Oh, and we have these brilliant chairs that tilt, rotate and have wheels (yes, we race around the room sometimes). We have several king-sized LCD TVs, lots of gaming consoles, and stacks of games, right in the office (for research purposes, of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then again, we have a fitness area with instructor and dancing classes, relaxation area with pool tables, table football, consoles and massage, mess hall (we still have to pay for our food though), vending machines for coffee (and various byproducts), snacks and drinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The bathrooms are eat-off-the-floor clean, always have soap, paper towels (and blow-driers), and toilet paper. We also have dedicated kitchens on each floor with bar-style tables and chairs, refrigerators, microwaves and sinks, plus cupboards and any and all other equipment needed to eat. It's all inclusive. We even have several couches you could count on if you stayed in so long that public transportation was out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, best of all, we have no crap policies. We have admin rights on our computers, we can install any and all applications we want or need (as opposed to not being allowed to use instant messengers or listen to music) - even games. Standard working hours are 9 - 13, 14 - 18, but it's not set in stone. What actually matters is that you have common sense, and don't abuse other's good will. You can come in to work later (some even as late as 14 o'clock), or leave earlier should you need to. You can take a day off, provided you let people know about it in advance. All that matters is, at the end of the month, you have your share of working hours done (8h * n working days that month).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I guess that about sums it up about the place itself. But I am sure there are other details I haven't even discovered yet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div   style="text-align: right;font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Yves Larock&lt;/span&gt; - Rise Up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4260457579017351814-294138674290819417?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/294138674290819417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=294138674290819417' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/294138674290819417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/294138674290819417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/04/rise-up-pt-1-place.html' title='Rise Up (pt. 1 - The Place)'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-110292970031171261</id><published>2008-04-02T22:58:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T23:13:42.063+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Hope vol. 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's rare that you actually happen to meet people you've only dreamed of meeting. It's a privilege to see somebody who's the stuff of movies. I've had this occasion this last weekend. For 3 days, I had the honor of training under the guidance of Shidoshi Kacem Zoughari. It was simply mind blowing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I'd been waiting for it for weeks. Looking up every clip, reading every bit of information I could find about him and his training. It's astonishing what years of training can turn you into. Look it up, you'll understand once you see him. And take my word for it: videos are less than half of what he stands for in reality.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Water takes the color and shape of the vase." That was his quote about technique. "Imagine yourself doing things the way you do now, only you're 60 years old doing them against somebody who's 20. Will it work? If you use strength instead of movement, it won't." And I could go on about things he said that were etched deep into my brain. But I won't, since my blabbering can't possibly be close to the actual experience of training with him. So if you're passionate about martial arts (especially ninjutsu, but I believe what he said would be of use to anybody into the general theme), do yourself a favor and try to go to one of his seminars.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I can only &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hope &lt;/span&gt;that the motivation I have now to train will stay with me for years to come, and maybe someday I'll be close to that level myself (one can dream, can't one?). But, before then, this song will echo in my head serving to remind me of my resolve to improve.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" &gt;Apocalyptica&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; - Hope vol. 2&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/4260457579017351814-110292970031171261?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/110292970031171261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=110292970031171261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/110292970031171261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/110292970031171261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/04/hope-vol-2.html' title='Hope vol. 2'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-5305522389443403989</id><published>2008-02-29T22:50:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T23:17:12.713+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>You Don't Know Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Out of the dark of the crowd, she steps towards me. I notice her, but I go on dancing, thinking she won't mind me. She caught my gaze, and is now standing right in front of me, looking me right in the eyes. Before I realize, she's dancing in sync with me, moving up closer and closer. As she starts rubbing and grinding against me, leaning up close, I try to say something, but the words won't come out. She whispers in my ear: "I like your perfume.", and before I get a chance to say anything back, she starts kissing my neck. I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know &lt;/span&gt;I should say something, but I can't find the words to say anything, and besides, we're now lips together, kissing like we've known each other forever.&lt;br /&gt;The rush is so great... we reach the room, and start to cuddle, and caress, never even once stopping to say anything... to ask anything. It all comes so naturally. Do I know her? Did I meet her before? As the lazy and wet summer clothes fly off of us, we drift further into our own silence. I don't need to say anything, and she doesn't either. We match so well... Our rhythm is the same, no dissonance, no error or fault. We fit together like hand and glove, and although I've just met her, it all feels so right.&lt;br /&gt;Enjoying each other, till the end, we curl up together, and look at the ceiling. What would I say? What would be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;appropriate&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;As I get up and head for the shower, I mean to turn back, look at her, and at least tell her my name... but it would feel so wrong... washing up, I think about what I should say, and a plan forms up in my mind... only to vanish without a trace when I find her standing outside the bathroom, tying up her hair, and glaring up into my eyes. In a faint voice she asks me if I'm done. I nod, and walk past, having forgotten all I was about to say.&lt;br /&gt;I lay on the bed and listen to the sound of the water, knowing it's her, bathing... and it somehow soothes me... I fall asleep...&lt;br /&gt;Waking up to the sun on my face, I yawn, and stretch, and remember the night before... I come to the realization, that it was so close to perfect; I just... I just don't even know her name, and she's already left...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Apparat/_/You+Don%27t+Know+Me"&gt;Apparat - You Don't Know Me&lt;/a&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/4260457579017351814-5305522389443403989?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/5305522389443403989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=5305522389443403989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/5305522389443403989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/5305522389443403989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/02/you-dont-know-me.html' title='You Don&apos;t Know Me'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-7896519981936214515</id><published>2008-01-21T21:00:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T23:07:24.246+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Into Dust</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Staring long into her eyes, it still amazes me that she's here. We're all alone, and she's sipping on her glass of wine. As she sets it down, I can see the faint trace of her lips on the clear glass edge. It mesmerizes me. I lift my gaze up again, and stare at her lips. The shape matches so well. I shouldn't think that. Of course it matches. Those were her lips on the glass... Her lips... they curl into a smile. And I realize why she smiles. She's noticed... She saw me staring at her lips. I look her in the eyes, and I try to smile. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Oh, God... how silly I must look. I must look so dumb in her eyes right now. The smile fades away from my face, and with it, comes the realization that hers is also gone. I know it must be awkward... but I just can't help staring at her. Her eyes draw me in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I lean towards her, as if to see her eyes up closer. She is SO beautiful... I close my eyes, and imagine us in a thousand places, always together, holding hands and smiling. I can feel her breath stir the air in front of me as she leans closer across the small table. Before I can question what to do, or get a chance to open my eyes, our lips come together, as butterflies start to rustle inside my stomach. I feel like the world is spinning. I feel like I'm upside down and inside out. My mind tries to cope with the fact that SHE is kissing me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's been so long. I've wanted this for what seems to be an eternity. And now it's come true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;As we slowly drift apart, I open my eyes, and look at her as she is still, savoring the moment, with her eyes closed and lips puckered. As she comes to and opens her eyes, her gaze glitters, and she shyly smiles. She reaches out and takes my hand from across the table. I caress her palm, and smile back. She leans towards me, and kisses me again, and again, and as we draw closer together, the wine glasses spill on the table, falling to the floor and breaking, but we are too close together to care, and too far to hear...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Mazzy+Star/_/Into+Dust"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/B000002V07.01.MZZZZZZZ.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4260457579017351814-7896519981936214515?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/7896519981936214515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=7896519981936214515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/7896519981936214515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/7896519981936214515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2008/01/into-dust.html' title='Into Dust'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-7320451904954959998</id><published>2007-12-23T14:38:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-23T14:50:44.142+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;'You can open your eyes now!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Slowly, at first squinting I try to take in the sight. Glaring sunlight floods my eyes. The wide beach spreading as far as I can see, and the rushing waves of the sea beyond it. The calm hush of the waves is like a whisper opposed to the rush and the racket of people on the hot sand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;'C'mon, drop those, and let's go!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;She tugs on my hand, so I do as she said. I drop my backpack to the ground, and follow her lead as she undresses down to her bathing suit. Getting rid of all the cloth, as fast as I can, trying to keep up with her... Blinded by taking off my t-shirt, for a second I lose sight of her. I search for her silhouette in the crowd... There! There she is, running towards the water! I follow suite, running to catch up to her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;'Come, lazy-bones, come and catch me!' She yells as she splashes the first steps into the water. A few paces behind,  I take a deep breath, run past her and dive in, splashing the salty cool water all over her. Coming up for air, I can hear her giggling behind me, and before I turn, she jumps on my back, taking me back down into the water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;'It's been a long time, hasn't it? One year... too long for you to be away from the sea.' I nod silently, and after some pondering reply: 'You know, it's our fifth year here... Summer wouldn't make sense without this.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Above%2B%2526%2BBeyond/Tri-State"&gt;&lt;img src="http://cdn.last.fm/coverart/130x130/2505498.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=7,0,0,0" allownetworking="internal" height="13" width="13"&gt; &lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="resourceID=42589209&amp;amp;flp=false"&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/3/inlinePlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;embed wmode="transparent" src="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/3/inlinePlayer.swf" quality="high" flashvars="resourceID=42589209&amp;amp;flp=false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="inlinePlayer" allownetworking="internal" allowscriptaccess="sameDomain" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" height="13" width="13"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/object&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Above%2B%2526%2BBeyond"&gt;Above &amp;amp; Beyond&lt;/a&gt; – &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Above%2B%2526%2BBeyond/_/Hope"&gt;Hope&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&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/4260457579017351814-7320451904954959998?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/7320451904954959998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=7320451904954959998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/7320451904954959998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/7320451904954959998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2007/12/hope.html' title='Hope'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-891028216736807654</id><published>2007-12-03T00:38:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T00:52:58.386+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Just a Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A story almost at an end... That which has been my life for more than three years now... It just remains to be seen if there is anything left to be written.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You've gone away from me, leaving only the bitter promise of friendship behind. It was not over... Not for me it wasn't. I promised myself I wouldn't stop fighting. But I realized that, at some point it became too much. Too little was left to be done, too little to be saved. So we broke off, and took each our own path. The road we'd traveled together for so long, was now split apart like a tree struck by lightning. Without warning, without a way to mend the hurt. You would just let me drop. And all because I skipped a brief few events... You'd changed; that's what you said. I wasn't there... Why weren't you here? Why weren't we together? But most importantly, why didn't you tell me you needed me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's over now. All that's left are the memories. And all my feelings cut off and bleeding. They all told me it had to happen sometime. They all said I would suffer, and that in time it would get better. Perhaps. But that won't be soon. I know... Because I feel you still with me. Because I still long for your touch. Because every time the door opens I startle thinking you've come back. Time and again I'd rush to see if that was you, passing shadow at the corner of my eye. But you're not there. It's just my mind not wanting to adjust to a new reality. The new reality you've shaped out for me when you left. What's there left for me now, since you were all there was to me for so long? Everything reminds me of you. Because there is nothing left from before. I made you a part of everything I had. You'd become a part of me. And now, here I stand cut in half,... alone and naked of the love you wrapped me in not so long ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In time, I'll believe it was just an illusion...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In time, I'll believe it was only a dream...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Till then, I will breathe you in from the ocean,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And walk with the waves rolling under my feet...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I hope with all my heart that this is not what will be written about us. I hope that this ending is still far off, and there is still some more of our story for us to live out. I hope in time we'll both look back at these times and be glad they're over, having only strengthened us. I hope this is not how you want to write our ending. I hope we can still believe there will be no ending to this fairy tale we've been living.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Delerium/Chimera"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/B000174M1A.01._SCMZZZZZZZ_.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Delerium"&gt;Delerium&lt;/a&gt; – &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Delerium/_/Just+a+Dream+%28feat.+Margaret+Far%29"&gt;Just a Dream&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/4260457579017351814-891028216736807654?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/891028216736807654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=891028216736807654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/891028216736807654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/891028216736807654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2007/12/just-dream.html' title='Just a Dream'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-3240521480683630982</id><published>2007-11-11T23:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T19:16:53.155+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Beautiful Worlds</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Another day I've decided to mark with a song. I've known this particular tune for quite some time now, but it never made so much sense till now. The feeling is exhilarating...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sacrifice time, money, and willpower... You put them all into helping others. And you know, in time you will get back ten-fold. Where will you be when it all comes back to you? Give joy. Make somebody's day. Be there for them. And they will surely apreciate. Be somebody's shoulder to cry on. Give a hug to someone who's sad. Be a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This last weekend, was marked by the Local Training Seminar in AIESEC Iasi. It's not my first time, which makes it even more special. Because this time around, I could apreciate it for what it truly holds. It's been a year. And I haven't grown older. I've grown wiser. All the new faces around me must have looked just like I did one year past. At points, discussion got pretty emotional. Because we came to certain realisations that were not kind. Growing up is not kind. You don't choose to grow. You're forced into it. And as you struggle upwards you need to pick a path. And whatever path you take, life drags you after it. You can't stop, stand and stare. It all rushes past you, picks you up and throws you further. You're a straw in a wild bending stream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes each of our flows special must be our approach. The bends we take along the way, and the other straws we touch. The nudges we give them into one direction or another. Because when your turn comes to fall into the ocean, all that will be left of you, will be the peers you've influenced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've met a lot of great people, and found out that people I've known for a year are great, even though I never got the chance to apreciate them for what they are. Now I know what the speaches we were given last year ment. Because I felt the same about the newies as did the oldies of me back in the day. AIESEC Iasi has a great future ahead. And I plan to be a part of it for as long as I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's what this song means to me... Determination, perseverence, motivation, reaching higher, and higher, without any limit. Because your bounds are your own, and where you stop is a matter of choice, not potential.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/ATB/Trilogy"&gt;&lt;img src="http://cdn.last.fm/coverart/130x130/3272075.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=7,0,0,0" allownetworking="internal" height="13" width="13"&gt; &lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="resourceID=87826088&amp;amp;flp=false"&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/3/inlinePlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;embed wmode="transparent" src="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/3/inlinePlayer.swf" quality="high" flashvars="resourceID=87826088&amp;amp;flp=false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="inlinePlayer" allownetworking="internal" allowscriptaccess="sameDomain" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" height="13" width="13"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/ATB"&gt;ATB&lt;/a&gt; – &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/ATB/_/Beautiful+Worlds"&gt;Beautiful Worlds&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&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/4260457579017351814-3240521480683630982?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/3240521480683630982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=3240521480683630982' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/3240521480683630982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/3240521480683630982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2007/11/beautiful-worlds.html' title='Beautiful Worlds'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-143038574406937173</id><published>2007-11-04T23:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T23:36:15.524+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Let Go</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I don't know how or why, but everytime I gain somethig, there's always a song that I notice for the first time on that day. I might have heard it before, but it never felt quite right, probably. So it was today, once again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It was a really hard day, given it was a Sunday. I had to wake up at 7 (which is totally inhuman by my standards, not to mention for a week-end), to prepare a training I was to hold for some 20 Medicine students. All and all, the best part of it was, this was my first training for a real live audience. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Turns out, that it went better than expected. All the feedback was positive, everybody was happy, and that made me in turn very satisfied. So _yes_ it was worth the shorter sleep. Sleep is overrated, anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But that wasn't all. Two hours out of the training, I was about to teach something else. It was set that I was to introduce a girl to parkour. It was not going to be the first time I did this (she's the 3rd, actually), but the weather was a bit cloudy and I had doubts she would pull it together and show up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She did show up, and to the surprise of everybody training today, she performed far better than expected and left a very good impression. Time will tell how she will do, and I can only hope that she will keep her interest, for she shows real promise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I know this post is less like the others, but this time it had to be more personal. This song was the song of my day. And thus it shall go down as: the joy of teaching others, the fullfillment of being good for the benefit of not only yourself but also of others. And it's not totally altruism, because it makes me feel good everytime (telling somebody that one time before yielded the title of 'hedonist' on me).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Paul+van+Dyk/In+Between"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.7digital.com/shops/assets/sleeveart/122911_182.JPEG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=7,0,0,0" allownetworking="internal" height="13" width="13"&gt; &lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="resourceID=122119003&amp;amp;flp=false"&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/1/inlinePlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;embed wmode="transparent" src="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/1/inlinePlayer.swf" quality="high" flashvars="resourceID=122119003&amp;amp;flp=false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="inlinePlayer" allownetworking="internal" allowscriptaccess="sameDomain" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" height="13" width="13"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/object&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Paul+van+Dyk"&gt;Paul van Dyk&lt;/a&gt; – &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Paul+van+Dyk/_/Let+Go+%28feat.+Rea+Garvey%29"&gt;Let Go (feat. Rea Garvey)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&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/4260457579017351814-143038574406937173?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/143038574406937173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=143038574406937173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/143038574406937173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/143038574406937173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2007/11/let-go.html' title='Let Go'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-4103164222495507518</id><published>2007-10-29T22:40:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T22:52:35.145+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Come Inside</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Warm up!... you know it's important. Move slowly, let your juices get to flowing... Let your body get used to what is to come... Experience inside you the calm before the storm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Move! Those obstacles are not there to stop you... they are _your_ way of getting around. You are fast... you are flow. So what if they stare at you? They don't understand. They still think others can tell them which way to go. You can go wherever you want. It's your freedom, experience it any way you want. Don't let others tell you what and how to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Breathe... let your body draw in more than air. Breathe in your surroundings, and let them be a part of you. Then go for that big jump. Leap faithfully, because you know your body will do it. Instinct takes over... there's nothing to go wrong. Falling only exists so you can get back up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Let loose... feel every instant of your existence, and know for certain that life always goes your way. Take a heading and follow it, don't let anything bar your path.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And when you get there, run past, to a new destination...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/The+Chemical+Brothers/Push+the+Button"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/B0006V6TK8.01.MZZZZZZZ.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=7,0,0,0" allownetworking="internal" height="13" width="13"&gt; &lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="resourceID=11339254&amp;amp;flp=false"&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/1/inlinePlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;embed wmode="transparent" src="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/1/inlinePlayer.swf" quality="high" flashvars="resourceID=11339254&amp;amp;flp=false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="inlinePlayer" allownetworking="internal" allowscriptaccess="sameDomain" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" height="13" width="13"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/object&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/The+Chemical+Brothers"&gt;The Chemical Brothers&lt;/a&gt; – &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/The+Chemical+Brothers/_/Come+Inside"&gt;Come Inside&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&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/4260457579017351814-4103164222495507518?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/4103164222495507518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=4103164222495507518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/4103164222495507518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/4103164222495507518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2007/10/come-inside.html' title='Come Inside'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-6974475848982248903</id><published>2007-10-26T23:40:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T00:04:11.301+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Suburban Train</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Morning... Work... Routine... Cadence... It's all the same... any day; _every day_ ... All the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Why would today be different? It's just the same. Looking out the subway train window, all you see is the damp darkness of the tunnel. As you turn your gaze back to stare at the dirty floor, the corner of your eye catches the first glimpse of sunrise, as the train exits into the light. And you stare back... Blinded by the glow, your eyes make out shapes of ethereal angels dancing in the dust and shadows.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then you adjust... The same monotony takes over again. The fleeting instant of light is now part of your average, ordinary day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And again, down into a tunnel, dark and lonesome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Today _could_ be different. Today _can_ be different. You can make it your own style. Choose your attitude...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;With that thought in mind, the bright morning sun blinds you again, this time it's familiar, yet far more elaborate. Your heart swells with the joy of the sunrise... and this time you _know_ for certain today, like everyday you get, is beautiful... Dark and light mixing together, blending into each other, it all averages out to how _you_ CHOOSE to see it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's your choice... you get to pick how you want to live the day. Make it count.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/DJ+Ti%C3%ABsto/In+My+Memory"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/B00005QK9U.01._SCMZZZZZZZ_.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/DJ+Ti%C3%ABsto"&gt;Tiësto&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/DJ+Ti%C3%ABsto/_/Suburban+Train"&gt;Suburban Train&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&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/4260457579017351814-6974475848982248903?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/6974475848982248903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=6974475848982248903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/6974475848982248903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/6974475848982248903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2007/10/suburban-train.html' title='Suburban Train'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-7503837076509913613</id><published>2007-10-25T17:41:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T18:01:32.802+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Free</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I needed to... It was too much. You were too much... much, much more than I could have hoped for... yet still...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I needed to remember... now I know again... I know how it feels to be alone. I miss you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So, you've found somebody... to replace me... but you know,... you know oh, so well, there will never be anybody quite like me. You'll never find somebody to share what we've shared.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I never wanted for us to part ways. I just wish you would have understood me. You were my cage... I needed to spread my wings wide, and I never could,... not with you. Now, I've flown away... I just wish it hadn't ended like this. There should have been more to it! There was more to us... not anymore...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Free... Alone...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Sarah+Brightman/_/Free"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/B0000C0XQW.01._SCMZZZZZZZ_.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=7,0,0,0" allownetworking="internal" height="13" width="13"&gt; &lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="resourceID=1862250&amp;amp;flp=false"&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/1/inlinePlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;embed wmode="transparent" src="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/1/inlinePlayer.swf" quality="high" flashvars="resourceID=1862250&amp;amp;flp=false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="inlinePlayer" allownetworking="internal" allowscriptaccess="sameDomain" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" height="13" width="13"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/object&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Sarah+Brightman"&gt;Sarah Brightman&lt;/a&gt; – &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Sarah+Brightman/_/Free"&gt;Free&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&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/4260457579017351814-7503837076509913613?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/7503837076509913613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=7503837076509913613' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/7503837076509913613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/7503837076509913613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2007/10/free.html' title='Free'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-6688975276461467809</id><published>2007-10-24T00:51:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T01:20:44.362+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Goodnight and Go</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I've only just met you... It' hasn't been all that long. But... you just feel so right. Why? Why now? Why me? Why you, for that matter? *sigh*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And it was all starting to go back to just being me. Now you... You have me so hypnotized. And... as if it's not bad enough, you appear to be all I ever wanted. You're not perfect! You can't be! I won't let you. Not unless you're _my_ perfect... not unless you're with me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;C'mon, give me some more of your time... more of your words... more of you! How can it be? Why is it that you get me, oh, so well? You weren't supposed to... ! You shouldn't have... ! I shouldn't! But I just don't trust myself when I'm with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Be mine! I want you, though I shouldn't. I hate that I like you so much, but... I just can't bring myself to reject anything that's you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Various+Artists/Music+From+The+O.C.+Mix+4"&gt;&lt;img src="http://cdn.last.fm/coverart/130x130/3246946.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=7,0,0,0" allownetworking="internal" height="13" width="13"&gt; &lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="resourceID=10775630&amp;amp;flp=false"&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/1/inlinePlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;embed wmode="transparent" src="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/1/inlinePlayer.swf" quality="high" flashvars="resourceID=10775630&amp;amp;flp=false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="inlinePlayer" allownetworking="internal" allowscriptaccess="sameDomain" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" height="13" width="13"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/object&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Imogen+Heap"&gt;Imogen Heap&lt;/a&gt; – &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Imogen+Heap/_/Goodnight+and+Go"&gt;Goodnight and Go&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4260457579017351814-6688975276461467809?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/6688975276461467809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=6688975276461467809' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/6688975276461467809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/6688975276461467809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2007/10/goodnight-and-go.html' title='Goodnight and Go'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4260457579017351814.post-6168351742388892586</id><published>2007-10-23T21:54:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T01:18:03.914+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Ten Seconds Before Sunrise</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Silence... as your senses come to, you feel a cadence... waves... washing on the wet shore's sand...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;You squint open your eyes, and gaze at the horizon. A faint orange glow is rising above the dark waters. You feel cold, but you don't shiver. Midsummer, you know it will get warmer. You trust in the sun to light and heat you. You're not cold...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;As you get to your feet, you feel the first light of dawn upon your face and into your eyes. In the distance, seagulls fly erratically above the water. It's so peacefull... But you know,... you know... it's just the calm before the storm - you won't be alone for long... it won't be this quiet for long... and soon the sun will light up the shore. As the water catches on fire in the distance, you shake off the sand that appears to have slipped into the very fabric of your being.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Another day, the sun is up, rise and shine! time to make it count.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Ti%C3%ABsto/_/Elements+Of+Life"&gt;&lt;img src="http://panther1.last.fm/coverart/130x130/3267216.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=7,0,0,0" allownetworking="internal" height="13" width="13"&gt; &lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="resourceID=93079296&amp;amp;flp=false"&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/1/inlinePlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;embed wmode="transparent" src="http://static.last.fm/webclient/inline/1/inlinePlayer.swf" quality="high" flashvars="resourceID=93079296&amp;amp;flp=false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="inlinePlayer" allownetworking="internal" allowscriptaccess="sameDomain" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" height="13" width="13"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/object&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Ti%C3%ABsto"&gt;Tiësto&lt;/a&gt; – &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Ti%C3%ABsto/_/Ten+Seconds+Before+Sunrise"&gt;Ten Seconds Before Sunrise&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4260457579017351814-6168351742388892586?l=thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/feeds/6168351742388892586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4260457579017351814&amp;postID=6168351742388892586' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/6168351742388892586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4260457579017351814/posts/default/6168351742388892586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thesoundtrackofme.blogspot.com/2007/10/ten-seconds-before-sunrise.html' title='Ten Seconds Before Sunrise'/><author><name>RhDo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05820702615834033244</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_hwU54xyKHZY/R_PsSvmhaTI/AAAAAAAAACs/oeS2wRjbYoA/S220/IMG_9131avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
