<?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-8516804840954705980</id><updated>2012-02-02T06:54:10.603+01:00</updated><category term='I GO MAD FOR..'/><category term='PIECES OF ME'/><category term='THOUGHTS'/><category term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>upside tom</title><subtitle type='html'>Hey. Does everything always reach its destination? I guess not. But what if? What if you were read by one of these people I know who don't really know me, who've never been told? Let's say for a moment that I just don't care. Just wanna tell. Need to. My Diary</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></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-8516804840954705980.post-3227327266397277664</id><published>2007-08-22T18:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T18:33:12.642+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PIECES OF ME'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'># n° 20 : avoir vécu aux Etats-Unis.&lt;br /&gt;# n° 05 : jouer, réaliser, monter mon propre film.&lt;br /&gt;# n° 22 : me battre. (style fight club)&lt;br /&gt;# n° 11 : agir héroïquement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-3227327266397277664?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/3227327266397277664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=3227327266397277664&amp;isPopup=true' title='40 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/3227327266397277664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/3227327266397277664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/08/n-20-avoir-vcu-aux-etats-unis.html' title=''/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>40</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-6705429524039456672</id><published>2007-08-20T16:26:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:12.948+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='THOUGHTS'/><title type='text'>FAITHLESSNESS</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RsxghjZk6iI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AyuFs2lW5yY/s1600-h/apple+t+shirt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101558607458396706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RsxghjZk6iI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AyuFs2lW5yY/s200/apple+t+shirt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Coucher avec un(e) autre ou simplement séduire: qu'est-ce que l'infidélité? Car voilà, si tout le monde s'accorde à dire que "tromper, c'est maaal !", toute la difficulté est de s'entendre sur un point: à quel moment bascule-t-on de la simple liberté au pur adultère? La frontière est mince. Pour beaucoup d'entre nous, la limite est claire: tromper, c'est coucher. Sans doute parce que le passage à l'acte scelle de façon définitive l'union des amants, un peu comme un mariage consommé durant les noces. Rassurant? certainement. Parce que tant qu'il n'a rien fait, on se dit que l'autre est toujours là, que l'histoire est sauve .Pratique? Assurément. Fini les remords. Envolée, la culpabilité. Convoitez tant qu'il vous plaîra tant que vous ne touchez pas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Le secret d'une rupture: ne jamais se mettre à la place de l'autre."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Et c'est un peu pareil pour la fidélité: si on prétend qu'un flirt, un baiser n'est rien, c'est parce qu'on veut pouvoir s'amuser sans aucun reproche. Pourtant, penser ainsi, c'est faire preuve d'une absence totale d'empathie, se voiler la face. Parce que la vérité, c'est que personne ne le tolérerait de l'autre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Alors voilà: et si le sexe n'était finalement rien d'autre que du sexe? Si coucher n'était pas pire qu'embrasser. Ou même juste envier? Si la vraie tromperie était émotionnelle? Car vouloir la personne, au moment précis où l'on flirte, c'est être émotionnellement détaché de l'autre. C'est se dire: &lt;em&gt;je te veux..et si on..? rien qu'une fois..et si nous deux..?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A cette seconde, on trahit. Parce que l'autre n'existe plus. Parce que quelqu'un d'autre prend sa place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Eh oui.. et si vous aviez trompé? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seulement voilà. Nous aimons tous plaire. Et la flamme de la tentation attire. Être charmé par quelqu'un d'autre peut arriver. Malicieusement même. La question n'est donc pas tant de savoir si oui ou non infidélité il y a, mais plutôt de savoir jusqu'où l'accepter?&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;La flamme est belle. Dansez. Jouez, mais.. prenez garde de ne pas vous brûler ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-6705429524039456672?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/6705429524039456672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=6705429524039456672&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/6705429524039456672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/6705429524039456672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/08/faithlessness.html' title='FAITHLESSNESS'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RsxghjZk6iI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AyuFs2lW5yY/s72-c/apple+t+shirt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-5769733461073785643</id><published>2007-08-10T13:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:13.309+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I GO MAD FOR..'/><title type='text'>THE ONES I AM NUTS OVER..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RrBxOZ-0F_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/fcmaFnxpjjU/s1600-h/jamie+dornan.jpg+TER.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RrB5bp-0GAI/AAAAAAAAAFk/3dmOCOA4sEI/s1600-h/chad+white.jpg+BIS.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093704694588774402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 168px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px" height="229" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RrB5bp-0GAI/AAAAAAAAAFk/3dmOCOA4sEI/s320/chad+white.jpg+BIS.jpg" width="166" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RrBxOZ-0F_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/fcmaFnxpjjU/s1600-h/jamie+dornan.jpg+TER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093695670862485490" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 175px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 231px" height="288" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RrBxOZ-0F_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/fcmaFnxpjjU/s320/jamie+dornan.jpg+TER.jpg" width="251" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RrBxOZ-0F_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/fcmaFnxpjjU/s1600-h/jamie+dornan.jpg+TER.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RrBxOZ-0F_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/fcmaFnxpjjU/s1600-h/jamie+dornan.jpg+TER.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-5769733461073785643?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/5769733461073785643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=5769733461073785643&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/5769733461073785643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/5769733461073785643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/08/ones-i-am-nuts-over.html' title='THE ONES I AM NUTS OVER..'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RrB5bp-0GAI/AAAAAAAAAFk/3dmOCOA4sEI/s72-c/chad+white.jpg+BIS.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-8837989426282709907</id><published>2007-08-07T11:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:13.630+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>I SMILE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RrhjI5-0GCI/AAAAAAAAAF0/_RCc4sbs5yk/s1600-h/IKKS.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095931983024101410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RrhjI5-0GCI/AAAAAAAAAF0/_RCc4sbs5yk/s200/IKKS.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Le bonheur est fait de petits riens. C'est certain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;C'est en prenant le métro pour rentrer hier qu'un autre petit "rien" s'est produit. Profitant pleinement de mon premier instant de répit de la journée, tranquillement assis sur le quai, je laissais aller mon esprit, et mon regard se perdre. Je fixais par hasard le wagon d'en face, quand, tout droit sorti de ma rêverie, j'ai vu cette fille qui m'observait. Brune, plutôt jolie, son regard s'attardait sur moi alors que son train était sur le départ. Je décidais alors de ne plus la quitter des yeux tandis qu'elle s'éloignait. Regards intenses. Le train avance, personne ne scille. Quand brusquement amusé par l'imprévu de la situation, je lui décoche mon plus grand sourire. Qu'elle me rendit. Complice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Et mon sourire resta gravé les minutes qui s'en suivirent..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Je te remercie donc pour ce beau geste, jolie demoiselle: avoir ensoleillé cette journée&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Et, parce qu'on n'en profite jamais assez...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voici pour ceux qui les auraient manqués, les 20 grands petits plaisirs selon &lt;em&gt;M Magazine &lt;/em&gt;.. Simples. Purs. Et vrais.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#01 - laisser glisser du sable entre ses doigts&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#02 - rentrer chez soi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#03 - observer les nuages&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#04 - découvrir une nouvelle saveur&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#05 - (il n'y a pas de 5 héhé (!) alors laissez-moi le vôtre) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#06 - rire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#07 - écouter le silence&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#08 - regarder un chien dormir&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#09 - jouer avec un enfant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#10 - faire durer la nuit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#11 - profiter de la pluie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#12 - observer les gens&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#13 - faire un road trip&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#14 - lire à voix haute&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#15 - écouter une chanson après des années&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#16 - sentir un livre neuf&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#17 - entrer dans la mer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#18 - se sentir étranger&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#19 - retrouver quelqu'un qui nous a manqué&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;#20 - se coucher dans des draps propres&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;C'est l'été.. relaxez-vous :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-8837989426282709907?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/8837989426282709907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=8837989426282709907&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/8837989426282709907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/8837989426282709907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-smile.html' title='I SMILE'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RrhjI5-0GCI/AAAAAAAAAF0/_RCc4sbs5yk/s72-c/IKKS.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-4153980946026561887</id><published>2007-07-15T21:00:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:14.334+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>ANATOMY OF AN ADDICT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rp9pJp386zI/AAAAAAAAAE8/RMszPz-EWzw/s1600-h/greys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088901718532221746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rp9pJp386zI/AAAAAAAAAE8/RMszPz-EWzw/s320/greys.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Grey's anatomy&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Here's my therapy. My personal medicine. I'm absolutely fond of that show. Nothing spectacular though, no breaking through thoughts. But mere solutions to common problems. And that's its point, precisely. It's all about that: how to deal with the everyday hardships. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Feel bad? Then take a rug, some food, lay down onto your couch and watch a &lt;em&gt;Grey's&lt;/em&gt; episode.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;xoxo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;tom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-4153980946026561887?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/4153980946026561887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=4153980946026561887&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/4153980946026561887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/4153980946026561887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/07/anatomy-of-addict.html' title='ANATOMY OF AN ADDICT'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rp9pJp386zI/AAAAAAAAAE8/RMszPz-EWzw/s72-c/greys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-6489537989574702705</id><published>2007-07-07T21:33:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:14.507+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>AND..ACTION!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Ro-arhRxR7I/AAAAAAAAAEU/DDuGy_RpTck/s1600-h/inconnu+sepia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084452576782534578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Ro-arhRxR7I/AAAAAAAAAEU/DDuGy_RpTck/s200/inconnu+sepia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Today I've felt the need to create. To produce, to make things. My inspiration has run dry so far. And now I feel like something's missing. So I've just got back my camera out of pile of dusty stuff in my room and I think I'm going to take some photographs. Again. I also went into a music store just to look at guitars prices. (Yeah that's something I'd love to play). I want to do so many different things, I 'd need a couple of lives to get the chance to achieve everything! Sure, I'm probably not good at half of them. I 'll give it a try though. Just like Meredith says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Even the biggest failure, even the worst, beats the hell out of never trying."&lt;/blockquote&gt;That's why two weeks ago I had my first photo shoot..as a model. I study, practice sport, and I seriously think about any kind of opportunities coming out. No big deal to you..a step forward to me. So..here I come!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&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/8516804840954705980-6489537989574702705?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/6489537989574702705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=6489537989574702705&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/6489537989574702705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/6489537989574702705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/07/andaction.html' title='AND..ACTION!'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Ro-arhRxR7I/AAAAAAAAAEU/DDuGy_RpTck/s72-c/inconnu+sepia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-6517123053592867398</id><published>2007-07-04T15:26:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-08-20T17:26:02.302+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PIECES OF ME'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'># n° 04 : avoir un chez moi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-6517123053592867398?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/6517123053592867398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=6517123053592867398&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/6517123053592867398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/6517123053592867398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/07/n-04-avoir-un-chez-moi.html' title=''/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-8809180294617662995</id><published>2007-07-02T21:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:14.679+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PIECES OF ME'/><title type='text'>HAPPINESS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RolRmxRxR1I/AAAAAAAAADk/RwxvrjS3jB8/s1600-h/outptown4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082683380969064274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 208px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px" height="166" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RolRmxRxR1I/AAAAAAAAADk/RwxvrjS3jB8/s200/outptown4.jpg" width="210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..looks like this to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-8809180294617662995?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/8809180294617662995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=8809180294617662995&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/8809180294617662995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/8809180294617662995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/07/happiness.html' title='HAPPINESS'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RolRmxRxR1I/AAAAAAAAADk/RwxvrjS3jB8/s72-c/outptown4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-1379792315134092155</id><published>2007-06-14T14:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:14.869+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PIECES OF ME'/><title type='text'>LA LISTE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnFEImbmheI/AAAAAAAAADc/bBQSNSAw36w/s1600-h/BUSY+st.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075913169569220066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnFEImbmheI/AAAAAAAAADc/bBQSNSAw36w/s200/BUSY+st.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Voilà. J'ai toujours visualisé une sorte de liste. Une liste de choses à accomplir dans ma vie. Cette liste comporterait une centaine de choses (ok c'est arbitraire mais il faut bien se fixer!), des plus insignifiantes aux plus essentielles, des plus communes aux plus farfelues. Donc voilà..j'ai décidé de les distiller, et d'en disséminer au fur et à mesure de mes articles..comme autant de pièces du puzzle..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;# n° 23 : Coucher à plusieurs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;# n° 17 : Avoir mon permis.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;# n° 41 : Faire une chorégraphie dan la rue, sur un toit, sous la pluie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;# n° 08 : Connaître l'amour parfait.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-1379792315134092155?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/1379792315134092155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=1379792315134092155&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/1379792315134092155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/1379792315134092155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/06/la-liste.html' title='LA LISTE'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnFEImbmheI/AAAAAAAAADc/bBQSNSAw36w/s72-c/BUSY+st.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-3594001806208846062</id><published>2007-06-13T18:35:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T18:36:54.068+02:00</updated><title type='text'>THE SENTENCE OF THE DAY:</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Who is your real life heroïn?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;-...Mariah Carey.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-3594001806208846062?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/3594001806208846062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=3594001806208846062&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/3594001806208846062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/3594001806208846062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/05/sentence-of-day.html' title='THE SENTENCE OF THE DAY:'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-5393640557656041951</id><published>2007-06-13T18:33:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:15.083+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>BONJOUUR THOMAAAS !</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm-q6mbmhTI/AAAAAAAAACE/Nq93IIId98M/s1600-h/fouf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075463228795290930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm-q6mbmhTI/AAAAAAAAACE/Nq93IIId98M/s200/fouf.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Feel kind of silly saying this but sometimes, I feel like I'm into rehab. As if I was trying not to feel bad. To get over my problems. And about to let myself go any moment. Held up so high on such a breakable thread. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Okay, Maybe that's not without any bearing on my current readings: &lt;em&gt;Déboire &lt;/em&gt;("&lt;em&gt;Dry"&lt;/em&gt;) by Augusten Burroughs. Such a great novel. About will. About how to make it through. And happiness. It may sound a bit surreal and weird since I'm not an alcoholic -yet!-, still, I can find myself into him. Truly. And It helps me be a better person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You guys are probably thinking I'm just..crazy. And I might be. Whatever, since I'm okay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-5393640557656041951?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/5393640557656041951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=5393640557656041951&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/5393640557656041951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/5393640557656041951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/06/bonjouur-thomaaas.html' title='BONJOUUR THOMAAAS !'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm-q6mbmhTI/AAAAAAAAACE/Nq93IIId98M/s72-c/fouf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-530874580358052110</id><published>2007-06-13T18:31:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:15.236+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>BACK TO BASICS</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAFZWbmhaI/AAAAAAAAAC8/9pjqV_Bbgcg/s1600-h/valises-entree.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075562713122768290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAFZWbmhaI/AAAAAAAAAC8/9pjqV_Bbgcg/s200/valises-entree.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';color:#ffffff;"&gt;Eh oui comme Christina je « retourne aux sources ». Désolé pour ceux qui s’attendaient à un post sur son album –quoique fort réussi !!!- mais l’allusion s’arrête ici…pour bien sûr revenir à mon sujet de prédilection : MOUUAAAA !!!! (Et après ?! j’ai le droit, c’est mon blog non ?!)&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;RASSUREZ-VOUS : ce ne sera pas très long.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify; tab-stops: 319.5pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';color:#ffffff;"&gt;Juste pour achever le dernier post. Voilà j’ai effectivement renoncé à beaucoup de choses, si ce n’est à tout ce qui me tenait à coeur cette année. Musique, photo, cinéma, culture, passion des gens, tout y est passé. Tout ce qui faisait que j’étais…moi. Comme si j’avais oublié d’avancer. Rongé par la peur. La peur de perdre. Perdre la face, perdre ce(ux) que j’avais. Malheureusement, je n’ai rien évité. Bien au contraire, j’ai tout&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;précipité. Alors voilà. Il est temps de reprendre cette fameuse liste des rêves à réaliser. LET’S EXPERIENCE!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify; tab-stops: 319.5pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify; tab-stops: 319.5pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify; tab-stops: 319.5pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify; tab-stops: 319.5pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;Du changement. Voilà ce qu’il me faut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;Faire mes valises. Voilà ce que je pensais être bon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;Découvrir de nouvelles choses, de nouveaux gens, m’ouvrir au monde. voilà ce que je veux.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify; tab-stops: 319.5pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify; tab-stops: 319.5pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify; tab-stops: 319.5pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify; tab-stops: 319.5pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify; tab-stops: 319.5pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;Où sévir ? Londres, New York, Sydney, Boston ? La Terre est grande.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify; tab-stops: 319.5pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';color:#ffffff;"&gt;Mais Paris l’est aussi. Le Paris magique, le Paris des possibles. C’est là qu’est ma vie. Ma nouvelle vie. J’y suis, j’y reste ! Enfin, pour l’instant… ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&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/8516804840954705980-530874580358052110?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/530874580358052110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=530874580358052110&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/530874580358052110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/530874580358052110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/06/back-to-basics.html' title='BACK TO BASICS'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAFZWbmhaI/AAAAAAAAAC8/9pjqV_Bbgcg/s72-c/valises-entree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-5326060794397089270</id><published>2007-06-13T18:30:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:15.357+01:00</updated><title type='text'>COME ON GUYS...!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAJ-WbmhcI/AAAAAAAAADM/Cl75teLJAxE/s1600-h/axe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075567746824439234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAJ-WbmhcI/AAAAAAAAADM/Cl75teLJAxE/s200/axe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Still gay?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-5326060794397089270?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/5326060794397089270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=5326060794397089270&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/5326060794397089270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/5326060794397089270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/06/come-on-guys.html' title='COME ON GUYS...!'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAJ-WbmhcI/AAAAAAAAADM/Cl75teLJAxE/s72-c/axe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-1492851451207817781</id><published>2007-06-13T18:26:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:15.562+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>MOI, SAUVAGE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnACV2bmhZI/AAAAAAAAAC0/04HM8RWPAug/s1600-h/papy+grimace.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075559354458342802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnACV2bmhZI/AAAAAAAAAC0/04HM8RWPAug/s200/papy+grimace.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A côté. Voilà ce que j'ai toujours cru être. A côté de la vie, à côté du monde. A côté de mes pompes aussi parfois. J'ai toujours eu l'impression d'être spectateur du monde qui m'entourait. D'observer, d'analyser, de décortiquer ma vie, au lieu de la vivre, simplement. Je suis le réalisateur derrière sa caméra, le spectateur dans son fauteuil, le lecteur devant son livre. Je m'observe. Je nous observe. Sans être là. Il y à vous, la communauté. Et moi, en retrait. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Je ne veux pas disparaître. J'essaie même souvent de m'accrocher à vous. Maladroitement, difficilement. Malheureusement, je suis comme le vieux barbu sauvage dans les histoires qui, exilé toute sa vie dans la forêt, ne sait plus comment être en société. Ne connaît plus les règles de vie entre humains. Voilà je suis cet homme. Un sauvage. Ce qui explique mon incapacité totale à obtenir les relations que je désire. J'ai du mal à exprimer mon attachement, simplement, sans que cela vire à la catastrophe. Ou, au mélodrame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pourquoi suis-je incapable de lancer des "Je t'aime bien", "Tu comptes pour moi" au fil d'une conversation, et puis reprendre comme si de rien était?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;C'est moi. Je suis comme ça.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pour tout conseil: 06 62 .. .. .. :p&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-1492851451207817781?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/1492851451207817781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=1492851451207817781&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/1492851451207817781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/1492851451207817781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/06/moi-sauvage.html' title='MOI, SAUVAGE'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnACV2bmhZI/AAAAAAAAAC0/04HM8RWPAug/s72-c/papy+grimace.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-7918162028054304783</id><published>2007-06-13T18:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:15.785+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>AIMER POUR LA BEAUTE DU GESTE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm_9WmbmhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/iC10bfikHeY/s1600-h/Alain+Boccard+-coeurs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075553869785105778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm_9WmbmhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/iC10bfikHeY/s200/Alain+Boccard+-coeurs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Il me plaît parce qu'il est sensible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Il me plaît parce qu'il me fascine.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Il me fait du bien sans même le savoir. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Je ne le connais pas, pour lui je n'existe même pas. Et pour la première fois ça ne me fait rien. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Il ne me consièdre pas avec envie et c'est mieux comme ça.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;C'est tout à fait comme ça que je le voulais.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ah ptit prince! ..aimer pour la beauté du geste, c'est donc ça. &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/8516804840954705980-7918162028054304783?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/7918162028054304783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=7918162028054304783&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/7918162028054304783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/7918162028054304783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/06/aimer-pour-la-beaute-du-geste.html' title='AIMER POUR LA BEAUTE DU GESTE'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm_9WmbmhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/iC10bfikHeY/s72-c/Alain+Boccard+-coeurs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-3225436623797288899</id><published>2007-06-13T18:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:15.972+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>TU SAIS..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm_-JWbmhYI/AAAAAAAAACs/ssS0TAz3bPo/s1600-h/benetton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075554741663466882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm_-JWbmhYI/AAAAAAAAACs/ssS0TAz3bPo/s200/benetton.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Je passe mon temps à rêver,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J'aime les céréales toutes molles à cause du lait,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Les étincelles me font peur,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J'aime les compliments même s'ils me gênent,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Et la lumière me fascine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Je pleure devant les films et je veux pouvoir aimer,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quand j'étais pti' jcroyais être magique,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;et Oui-Oui était une fille.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Je veux une vie simple et je tiens à TOI.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thomas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-3225436623797288899?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/3225436623797288899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=3225436623797288899&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/3225436623797288899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/3225436623797288899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/06/tu-sais.html' title='TU SAIS..'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm_-JWbmhYI/AAAAAAAAACs/ssS0TAz3bPo/s72-c/benetton.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-3119337854786236691</id><published>2007-06-13T18:21:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:16.174+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>EVERYTHING NEEDS ITS FRENCH TOUCH !</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAg_mbmhdI/AAAAAAAAADU/NlLXTaPMgIo/s1600-h/doisneau.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075593057066714578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAg_mbmhdI/AAAAAAAAADU/NlLXTaPMgIo/s200/doisneau.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Voilà. Mon premier article en français. Si j'ai choisi l'anglais ç'est en partie parce qu'il est plus accessible. (rêverais-je secrètement d'être lu par le monde entier?) Quoi qu'il en soit, il est maintenant temps de revenir à l'essentiel. Mettre de côté l'esthétique du joli blog à l'américaine. Laisser place entière aux confidences.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A l'heure où j'écris je suis un peu perdu. Comme si le temps continuait de s'écouler, le monde de tourner. Trop vite. Je suis sur ce quai de gare et je reste là, face au train sur le départ, auquel je n'arriverais pas à m'accrocher. Je suis dans cette voiture de course lancée toute allure, incapable de la stoper. J'aimerais pouvoir arrêter le temps, pouvoir respirer une minute. Je me sens un peu vide. Je lutte, j'essaie de ne pas baisser les bras et de continuer droit devant. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mais pour aller où?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Droit devant soi, on ne peut pas aller bien loin." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Je n'aime pas ça. Graver noir sur blanc ce malaise du moment me gêne. Je dois aller bien. Je vais toujours bien. Malgré ces mots je continue d' avancer. Je fais des rencontres. Je vis des choses nouvelles. Mais il me manque. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;La vie est ainsi faite, alors je vais continuer à rouler encore et encore, sans m'arrêter.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&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/8516804840954705980-3119337854786236691?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/3119337854786236691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=3119337854786236691&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/3119337854786236691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/3119337854786236691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/06/everything-needs-its-french-touch.html' title='EVERYTHING NEEDS ITS FRENCH TOUCH !'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAg_mbmhdI/AAAAAAAAADU/NlLXTaPMgIo/s72-c/doisneau.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-3243295359109772347</id><published>2007-06-13T18:19:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:16.611+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>SURPRISING AND...INTERESTING</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RlrYxYBnSOI/AAAAAAAAAAs/wk21kbawLik/s1600-h/mondino.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069602673333324002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 164px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" height="179" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RlrYxYBnSOI/AAAAAAAAAAs/wk21kbawLik/s200/mondino.jpg" width="175" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It's a wonder how fun life can be. Do you remember Louis? Some guy I told you about in a previous post? You know, the whole seed thing? Well, I may consider the fact that he could be some kind of mentor for me! lol. Here is the 3rd lesson he gave me about life: the buckle theory.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;He indeed assumes that everything you do -or at least a host of them- are bound to repeat, as if a buckle had to be done. a circle to be closed. a cycle to be complete. And I start thinking that's the way it goes for love too.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Last night was kind of..unexpected to me: I seriously flirted with my first real girlfriend. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Basically, I dated her when we were young and we've never had sex. We've been keeping in touch so far, like friends, still teasing each other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But last night was different. After deciding to end up the night at her place, we started cuddling. Just as if we couldn't help touching each other. Soft lights. Smooth skins. Glances. kisses all over her body. Sweet moments. I wanted her. She knew it. And I assume she wanted me too. Still, nothing more happened that night. Not even a kiss. The line not to cross? Possibly. And when I tried to give her my opinion about what was going on, her behaviour, the only words that came out were: "surprising and..interesting". She didn't really got what I meant. But curiously, I think she felt the same.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Yeah last night was different. Last night we were friends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Does this mean you actually never forget a former lover? Are we bound to be borderline with people we once loved? Or to start it all over again with them once at least ? Well, as far as I'm concerned, I've not made up my mind about that yet. Anyway, I think that, somehow, such an idea is quite reassuring . It's pretty cool to believe that you'll never really lose someone who mattered to you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-3243295359109772347?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/3243295359109772347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=3243295359109772347&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/3243295359109772347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/3243295359109772347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/05/surprising-andinteresting.html' title='SURPRISING AND...INTERESTING'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RlrYxYBnSOI/AAAAAAAAAAs/wk21kbawLik/s72-c/mondino.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-8635602044499827694</id><published>2007-06-13T18:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:16.943+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I GO MAD FOR..'/><title type='text'>SIMPLY STYLISH</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rl1G6IBnSWI/AAAAAAAAABs/i3P5fOp5ZqM/s1600-h/davidbeckham.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070286719889656162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rl1G6IBnSWI/AAAAAAAAABs/i3P5fOp5ZqM/s200/davidbeckham.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-8635602044499827694?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/8635602044499827694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=8635602044499827694&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/8635602044499827694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/8635602044499827694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/05/simply-stylish.html' title='SIMPLY STYLISH'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rl1G6IBnSWI/AAAAAAAAABs/i3P5fOp5ZqM/s72-c/davidbeckham.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-4104961734413975985</id><published>2007-06-13T18:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:17.248+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='THOUGHTS'/><title type='text'>MUHAMMAD ALI</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rl072YBnSTI/AAAAAAAAABU/UORpdEzFaHg/s1600-h/boxe.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070274560837241138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 193px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 131px" height="131" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rl072YBnSTI/AAAAAAAAABU/UORpdEzFaHg/s200/boxe.jpg" width="196" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB"&gt;Hey.&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Who are the strong people around us? Have you ever thought about that? Well, a friend of mine told me about the ones he calls the "Muhammad Alis". A self-speaking image, isn't it? These ones who never seem to care about public opinion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;. Just like our famous boxer. Yeah he's kind of a role model for him. The embodiment of self-confidence. Faith. Freedom. Strength. No matter what people say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" align="center"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"If he wanted or planed to do something. Then he just did it! "&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So you can easily understand how surprised and amused I was when he told me he had first considered me as one of them. Me. The poor little guy who's afraid not to be loved. Who's always been scared to be..himself. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;At that moment, I understood how big the gap can be between the way people see you, and the way you really are. He saw strength where I saw cowardice.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Image is such a powerful thing, don't you think? A mere illusion, that can hide the wolf behind the lamb's cover and urge you not to get the angel back from the devil. That little trick that can make you look like a strong guy to your people, when in fact you're just..you. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The first thought that pulled through when my friend told me that was that even Muhammad Ali might doubt too. That’s what I reciprocated. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;“Ali, the strong man, is the only part you can see. You don’t see when he’s just Muhammad.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Yesterday when enjoying a big and tasty Deluxe - probably the 8th wonder of the world I guess- I looked at my gay colleague who I was having a dinner with. He’s cool. I love that guy. He’s kind of queen, see? Some fragile and fancy guy you’d be afraid to leave in the jungle for a minute. He had just made me laugh, embarrassed for whistling for fun at a waiter who actually heard him, when it suddenly hit me. He was one of them. A Muhammad Ali. Sure he first appears as a shallow person, some sort of a gay cliché. Still, he's completely accepted himself and doesn’t care about what people could say. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Though he probably doubts and hurts sometimes, he’s Ali when he needs to.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;That may be what real strength is.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So don't you please let the image blind you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rlvo0oBnSRI/AAAAAAAAABE/kUvRwqPFcEE/s1600-h/gloves.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-4104961734413975985?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/4104961734413975985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=4104961734413975985&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/4104961734413975985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/4104961734413975985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/05/muhammad-ali.html' title='MUHAMMAD ALI'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rl072YBnSTI/AAAAAAAAABU/UORpdEzFaHg/s72-c/boxe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-2939275178981347154</id><published>2007-05-09T18:11:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:17.463+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='THOUGHTS'/><title type='text'>RUNNING GAME</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rl1FWYBnSVI/AAAAAAAAABk/KkvE2Nu3-Ds/s1600-h/bench.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070285006197705042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 142px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 113px" height="65" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rl1FWYBnSVI/AAAAAAAAABk/KkvE2Nu3-Ds/s400/bench.jpg" width="103" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Am I running game? I mean, does getting what you expect from people amount to make fool of them? Yesterday I decided to meet a guy from the web. Nick. I had already been chatting with him for a few weeks ago when I suddenly made this decision. Not that I was particularly attracted to him, -he was just a guy next door-, but I found him pretty cool. So I did what any bachelor would have done: I dated him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So we went out for a drink and, one thing leading to one another, I found myself back on his couch. But that's not what you're thinking. Not yet. We had spent a great moment at the bar, so we just thought it would be nice to end the night up to his place. And..I guess it's no use to mention how people get sexier after a few drinks...Anyway, we went to watch out a movie on television, that was next to his bed..of course. And we started cuddling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was not looking for what came up after that. Truly. I didn't want to go further. I didn't plane it. You can trust me. But I was there. In his bed (!). And he wanted me. I just didn't want him to think I was teasing him. That I had turned him on, and then, nothing. So I gave him what he expected from me..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm not a victim. That's not what I'm saying. But that night, I had sex for..convenience. I gave my body like I was giving a hand. Somehow, maybe I was using him too. He was keeping me away from sorrow. From harm. From loneliness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The day after, I couldn't stand it anymore. I told him I just couldn't. Surprisingly, He was pretty cool about that. He even asked me for us to keep in touch. That's how I suddlenly understood something had changed. About me; about the world. Yeah at that moment I understood I was..an adult. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"It's a funny thing. An unpredictable dance of nature. People meeting people. Like tiny little molecules floating in the air. Sometimes they stick, form new elements. Or they simply bounce off."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So that's what real life looks like. What an adult life looks like. A world where a night is just a night; and a date is no big deal. A world where having sex and then just going away is not running game. A world where people are passing by, as many entertainements. Not to get bored when desperatly looking for someone to match with. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;..I feel like I grew up too fast..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&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/8516804840954705980-2939275178981347154?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/2939275178981347154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=2939275178981347154&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/2939275178981347154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/2939275178981347154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/05/running-game.html' title='RUNNING GAME'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rl1FWYBnSVI/AAAAAAAAABk/KkvE2Nu3-Ds/s72-c/bench.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-8209191971142792457</id><published>2007-05-08T18:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:17.631+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='THOUGHTS'/><title type='text'>THE SMALL SEED</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RlrbwYBnSQI/AAAAAAAAAA8/oaXo63Mk6Y4/s1600-h/coeur+de+sable.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069605954688338178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 156px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px" height="113" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RlrbwYBnSQI/AAAAAAAAAA8/oaXo63Mk6Y4/s200/coeur+de+sable.jpg" width="144" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Do you believe in warning signs? some sort of destiny? Sometimes I do. Check this out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A couple of weeks ago, when surfing the web, I made an odd meeting. The kind that makes you understand how small the world can be. Still wasting my time checking and answering my messages, as an automat, without even taking a look at the pics, a mere line suddenly drew my attention: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Hey. no concern of the site but, weren't you from &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; highschool?"&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Uh. I was discovered. Another person knew about me. Who was he? And what was he looking for? Not that I particularly care about coming out to people I know, but I like to keep things under control and to tell people the way that I want. I was not afraid. More curious. Someone I might knew was here and anyhow, I had to know about him. So I immediately look at his picture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Oh my God! Louis! Pierre's brother! Louis is Gay!! Oh that's too big". &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Here is what I thought. Louis was the old brother of an old junior high friend of mine. I met him, like, 8 years ago! And I must admit I was completely surprised, shocked and euphoriac. I'm not like, a gossip guy you know, but it was such a huge thing. Just as if my mom told me she had slept with brad pitt who's actually my bio father! See? If I had been told something like this would ever happen to me, I'd never have believed it, for sure!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And actually, so was he surprised for me to recognize him. Somehow, he was caught too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;That's how it started. A new relationship was born. Was it a friendship or was it meant to be something more, or less? I still can't tell you. Not yet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Thing is, we immedialety got along with each other. So we decided to meet. It was perfect. I had not expected anything from him but a nice moment. And that's what I got. I went out of the underground station, where I saw him, smiling, talking with a friend. I moved on, straight toward him, trying to make good impression as always, which is decisive, isn't it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We went to a bar after spending a lot of time dragging ourselves through the streets, awkwardly eating our melting ice creams, laughing, chating. Till the moment we went back home. At that time I just can tell you that I really liked him. But that's it. He was quite charming and very cool. Despite this, I was barely feeling for him. That's what I told him. And he responded by giving me the warnings:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Ok Tom, listen. You don't know where it's gonna lead us, and I'm ok with this. I&lt;br /&gt;like you, and I want to see you again, definitely. But I won't see you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; way ten times again..like we were friends."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;That's how perfection started fading away. I've seen him a couple of times so far and everytime it was the same. Everything begins really nicely. No ice cream. But laugh. and smile. Until the moment he wants more. Way more. Until the time kissing is not enough. Until cuddling is not enough.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;He was falling in love with me, I suppose.. But I just couldn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;And then came the moment he couldn't stand it anymore. A phone call -which is by the way, the worst way to tell people something important, so guys, would you please understand it's really rude and weak, just giving a call to tell serious things!!-. Anyway, let's go back to my point. Signs. and seed. Thing is, he called on me to confess he couldn't bear this situation anymore. To tell me that, if it was OK to feel lost after ending up a relationship with someone you loved, still, I had to be honest with people. With myself. To tell me that, no matter what I say, when you're interested in someone, you just know it. I can't help hearing his words again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"you know whether the small seed is already within. Or whether it's not."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Sure, I replied with some of my great sentences, as always, not to admit he was right. To make him understand it was not that easy. Not so clear. Not everytime. Not when you're still in love. But deep down I know it was. I know Louis was right. The small seed. It's all about that. The image was perfect: the sign. this tiny little spark. You know when it's there. Well actually you don't &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; it. You &lt;em&gt;feel&lt;/em&gt; it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Truth is, I always wanted not to be callous with people. To respect them. So maybe I should start being honest with myself:&lt;br /&gt;It's a wonder how strong love can be. It's got the power to make attractive people invisible to you, so that you're able to desire the one you love only. And yet, I must admit you always know when someone has the potential to seduce you, even though nothing could happen for the moment. You know if (s)he's got the small seed within. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-8209191971142792457?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/8209191971142792457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=8209191971142792457&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/8209191971142792457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/8209191971142792457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/05/small-seed_08.html' title='THE SMALL SEED'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RlrbwYBnSQI/AAAAAAAAAA8/oaXo63Mk6Y4/s72-c/coeur+de+sable.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-8629142825861459597</id><published>2007-05-07T18:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:17.800+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>IL M'A QUITTE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm-0CmbmhVI/AAAAAAAAACU/zOpbh6905gg/s1600-h/barbelet.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075473261838894418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm-0CmbmhVI/AAAAAAAAACU/zOpbh6905gg/s200/barbelet.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;Il m’a quitté.&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Il m’a quitté parce que je me suis égaré. Parce que je n’arrivais pas à avancer.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Il m’a quitté parce que j’oubliais l’essentiel. Parce que je devais comprendre.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Il m’a quitté parce que je ne savais pas l’aimer.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Il m’a quitté sans même se retourner.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Il m’a quitté et j’ai su me retrouver.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Il m’a quitté et en cela, il m’a aidé.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Il m’a quitté et ça fait chier mais… Merci.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';color:white;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&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/8516804840954705980-8629142825861459597?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/8629142825861459597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=8629142825861459597&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/8629142825861459597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/8629142825861459597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/06/il-ma-quitte.html' title='IL M&apos;A QUITTE'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/Rm-0CmbmhVI/AAAAAAAAACU/zOpbh6905gg/s72-c/barbelet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-9165643777487522715</id><published>2007-05-06T18:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:53:18.097+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>HUMAN CONDITION</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAH8GbmhbI/AAAAAAAAADE/xAsBC8d2RmE/s1600-h/tof+site.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075565509146478002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 113px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 91px" height="72" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAH8GbmhbI/AAAAAAAAADE/xAsBC8d2RmE/s200/tof+site.jpg" width="108" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Am I just ultimately stupid, or is this part of my human condition: why do I always yearn for things I just can't have?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;No seriously, why the hell did Eve eat this f*** apple?! It has made God so pissed off that He decided to make us pay for that, making us so..human. As many living puppets awkwardly attempting to move on, to follow their paths without stumbling. As many puppets torn up inside, fighting against their own contradictions, desires. Constantly trying to fill a new found one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As far as I'm concerned, I'm trying to get back something I first rejected. Love. I love him. I know I do. I can feel it now. So strong. Powerful. Overwhelming. I could almost touch it. But it's too late. He's gone. Forever. And that's what I've got to deal with now. I'm versed in the fact that I'm entirely responsible for this. I screwed it up. But now I feel incomplete. And I wish could go back into time. Unfortunately I came up to the point there's no turning back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I should have seen the warnings.&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe some mistakes need to be done. Would experience be the only path to wisdom? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anyway, if fear and regrets are part of all of us, so is hope. As if God wanted us to have something to hold on to. Like a father who's afraid of being tough when punishing his children. Faith. Mankind' strength. Faith urges people not to give up, to get over harm, to accomplish unbelievable things. Or to simply go ahead. I've got faith. And that's probably why I start blogging. I choose to go on. .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Will I make it through? Well, I'm ready to..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-9165643777487522715?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/9165643777487522715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=9165643777487522715&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/9165643777487522715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/9165643777487522715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/05/human-condition.html' title='HUMAN CONDITION'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sQZKP9WAbwg/RnAH8GbmhbI/AAAAAAAAADE/xAsBC8d2RmE/s72-c/tof+site.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8516804840954705980.post-729133298769810938</id><published>2007-05-05T18:01:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T00:22:19.747+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIARY'/><title type='text'>TO MAKE A LONG STORY SHORT</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I first intended to introduce myself telling you why I felt the need to write this blog on. But eventually, this song definitely sums my thought up.&lt;br /&gt;..Plus, I want to make sure you won't miss such a great song! So relax. And listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"On My Own Time (Write On!)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;[verse 1]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could unzip my skin and take it off&lt;br /&gt;Just to take a walk but I can’t do it&lt;br /&gt;I don’t think I’ll make it on my own (on my own)&lt;br /&gt;As when I take out my pen&lt;br /&gt;and I wage it all, turn the page and fall&lt;br /&gt;It just comes natural&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna make it on my own (on my own)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;[chorus]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need time to walk it off,&lt;br /&gt;but I can’t do it&lt;br /&gt;I’ll write it on my own time&lt;br /&gt;Hey look I made it on my own (on my own)&lt;br /&gt;I know she thinks that I don’t try, but I realize that I can do better&lt;br /&gt;Write, write on &lt;i&gt;[4x]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makin’ a mess as I progress&lt;br /&gt;No time to cry about it, do better&lt;br /&gt;Write, write on &lt;i&gt;[2x]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;[verse 2]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote the greatest lines at the strangest times&lt;br /&gt;Now it's payin’ off, but I still feel lost&lt;br /&gt;Cuz I can’t do it&lt;br /&gt;I don’t think I’ll make it on my own (on my own)&lt;br /&gt;So in between now it pacifies&lt;br /&gt;I change my name to free, but she feels safe to me&lt;br /&gt;So I’m livin’ dangerously&lt;br /&gt;I’m gonna make it on my own (on my own)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;[chorus]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need time to walk it off,&lt;br /&gt;but I can’t do it&lt;br /&gt;I’ll write it on my own time&lt;br /&gt;Hey look I made it on my own (on my own)&lt;br /&gt;I know she thinks...&lt;br /&gt;But I realize that I can do better&lt;br /&gt;Write, write on &lt;i&gt;[4x]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makin’ a mess as I progress&lt;br /&gt;No time to cry about it, do better&lt;br /&gt;Write, write on &lt;i&gt;[4x]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;[outro]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Write on, write it on your own time (write, write on)&lt;br /&gt;Write on, write it on your own time (write, write on)...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Q3_vC7BggZ0&amp;hl=fr"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Q3_vC7BggZ0&amp;hl=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8516804840954705980-729133298769810938?l=upside-tom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/feeds/729133298769810938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8516804840954705980&amp;postID=729133298769810938&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/729133298769810938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8516804840954705980/posts/default/729133298769810938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://upside-tom.blogspot.com/2007/05/to-make-long-story-short.html' title='TO MAKE A LONG STORY SHORT'/><author><name>tom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13242787312278298583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
