tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195909972024-03-13T01:32:35.524+01:00puteri's worldPuterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-28835279228011793302008-10-03T17:14:00.001+02:002008-10-04T15:26:09.587+02:00A demanding person, I am.I believe that everyone has different ways of expressing themselves, of giving others their special attention. I also believe that people have different expectations of what they need from others and how others should behave. But what I know for sure is that when one is in need of his or her most important persons to care about them, he or she will become the most possessive person alive and definitely demands the fullest attention from them. I sometimes wonder why that simple logic is not always applicable, sometimes even to those who are so close, or even those who are long term lovers.<br /><br />I really don't understand why I have to tell my loved one over and over again about my feeling, and how depressed I am, just to have his slightest attention, just to know the fact that he still doesn't provide that. I sometimes cannot understand why can't he be emphatic for a while, and not say any single word, and just hold me, or at least just leave me alone. I really don't ask him to ask me if I am okay or not, because I know that he knows that I am not. I also don't ask him to keep me busy or ask me out, because I know that he knows that I don't feel like meeting people or going out when I am down. And the fact that he doesn't talk to me, or prefers to listening to music, or to go to cafe for coffee, don't help me in anyway except making me feel like crying.<br /><br />-----------------------------------<br /><br />Latest Update:<br />Hmm, yeah, I really believe that everyone has different ways of giving attention. He is just back with my favorite perfume, and said plainly, "Nih, tadi ada parfum ini di bijenkorf, gue inget lo nyari-nyari ini, jadi gue beliin!".<br /> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class="multiply:no_crosspost"></p>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-23027560524021848442008-10-03T15:22:00.005+02:002008-10-04T15:29:35.054+02:00The Unnoticeable<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwF9civyAFMWpwDKsq1jk8fkH0g90SZgqdiN6iRcQO3FRxmcqXa9xkpS-gyINbYT6hV6wrTp0XEp-b5WKLHiCLUzs-KuZ887CGL5fTwnycKI8wHiflop0jC33LQrHS3P_pt1gF/s1600-h/The+Discreet+Life.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwF9civyAFMWpwDKsq1jk8fkH0g90SZgqdiN6iRcQO3FRxmcqXa9xkpS-gyINbYT6hV6wrTp0XEp-b5WKLHiCLUzs-KuZ887CGL5fTwnycKI8wHiflop0jC33LQrHS3P_pt1gF/s320/The+Discreet+Life.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252917851364581426" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Unnoticeable</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Acrylic and Poster Color on Canvas</div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-22685756326219916172008-10-01T19:18:00.000+02:002008-10-04T15:26:25.130+02:00Stier: OktoberSolliciteren? Je maakt goede kansen en het is zelfs mogelijk dat je via via aan een leuke nieuwe baan komt. Maar het allermooist is dat de liefde met sprongen vooruit gaat! Kijk niet achterom, Stier! De toekomst ligt voor je en heeft iets speciaals voor je in petto.<br><br>Nou, ik hoop het wel! Crossing Fingers.... again!<br> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class='multiply:no_crosspost'></p>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-139394561466855522008-09-09T02:12:00.009+02:002008-10-04T15:27:14.184+02:00It hurts... so badAnna was looking at her reflection on the mirror, and suddenly felt so depressed, again. She felt like she could not take anymore all pressures that all people have been given to her. She felt like she did not want to get up tomorrow in the morning, and see all of her friends anymore. She knew that sooner or later those words, those painful words, would come out of those mouths again, and again, and would break her heart again, and again. That afternoon, she spent alone in her room looking at, pitying herself.<br /><br />She heard a knock on the door. She did not feel like answering so she stayed in her blanket. The door knob was moving slowly, and Mother was standing there. She brought a cup of tomato soup for Anna to have supper. She did not feel like eating, not even talking to Mother. Mother was walking silently towards Anna. Anna did not want to talk, so she covered her up deeper with her blanket. Anna heard that Mother wept, and Mother said weakly, “Bono bought this soup from this morning’s market. He was here just now.”<br /><br />Anna loved Bono, in fact she was crazy about him. She knew that Bono cared about her. But talking to him had been the most tiring argument for Anna lately. She felt that Bono has been not telling what he actually needed to say. She knew that somehow she found relieving of what Bone said, but she scared that Bono would make her even worst. In fact, Bono had been the only person, besides her family, who had been saying that Anna is beautiful just the way she was. But Anna could not be sure if that is right.<br /><br />Anna could not stand hearing Mother weeping. She unwrapped herself and at last wanted to talk to Mother. She did not know where to start though, because this was the first time in her life she ever talked about her private thoughts to Mother. She felt that Mother might know what to do, and she soon would end this misery, so she started.<br /><br />“Mother, I have been feeling ugly”.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />“Why is it like that Honey? What makes you feel that?”<br /></span><br />“I don’t know Mother, but it is just people keep saying that to me? Do you know what is wrong with me Mother?”<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />“Honestly, I don’t know Honey. ‘Cause for me you seem fine, except that you have not been eating properly lately, so I guess you look a bit pale now.”<br /></span><br />“If so Mother, why people are doing that to me? I never felt so bad like this before Mother. It feels like no one likes me for the way I am. It seems that they enjoy commenting on me Mother. It hurts so bad Mother when people say that I am fat, or I am ugly, or sometimes that I am not interesting enough as a person. Am I that bad Mother?”<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">“Oh Honey, who has been saying those things to you?”</span><br /><br />“I don’t know anymore Mother. I hate those people for saying those to me. In fact they are actually no one Mother. They are people who are not close to me, but I cannot understand why they do this to me. They never know me as a person Mother, we never are friends really, but whenever we are in class, or anywhere where we are bumped into each other, there were always occasions where they can always say those sorts of things. I never know what I did wrong to them, I never said that they were ugly or they were fat or they were eating too much Mother. I felt like I let them be happy. But they seem to enjoy telling me those things. When they did that to me, it looks to me that they don't feel anything. It looks like it was not wrong to them, like it was just a chit chat really. But Mother, it hurts... so bad. I’ve been saying to myself Mother, that I am in fact not that bad. Although I eat probably more that them, and I feel that I eat normal, and I am not fat or overweight or anything, am I Mother? When they said that I am not interesting as a person, I said to myself that I do have some friends, good friends, and Bono, he is a lovely boyfriend, and a happy family, don’t I Mother? Don’t those things prove that some people actually find me interesting, and like me for what I am really? So Mother, I’ve been mad to myself. I am mad because I don’t know why I am still talking to those people, do they really deserve it Mother? I am mad because two hours ago I was pitying myself in front of that mirror and was asking myself what is wrong with me. I am mad because I thought that I still need those people, while I actually don’t know what good they bring to me. They are not there when I am crying like this Mother. They were not there Mother when I run out of money. I realized that they solely there for the laughs. I don’t need that Mother, do I? I am so depressed Mother, I am.”<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">“Oh Anna, I really don’t know what to say. There are bad people out there, and they should really think about what they could have done with their comments. And I think from now on you just need to care about yourself and people you care about. Not people that you think you care about, but people who can really be there for the ups and the downs, for the laughs and the sadness. I think from now you have to start to give and take, and stop giving all you have for those who don’t give to you. Believe in yourself, and believe in what you see and feel about yourself. Believe me Dear, I love you just the way you are, inside out. I believe that people are different, some have beauties all over their bodies, and some have beauties inside, which others might not see. But you will see later that beauties that naked eyes can see, that those people have cared and talked about, are only skin deep. Beauties that are kept inside are purer and harder to change. Those beauties are meant to bloom later, and eventually to be seen later. And you, you are one of those pure beauties. That is why you have people that care about you when you cry and when you smile.”<br /></span><br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />I dedicate this post for those who have been having lack of self-confidence because of people's saying mortifying opinions about them. I guess from now on, we really have to think twice, or even more, before we actually say what we meant to say. There is never a good reason that qualifies a person to hurt others, even when we don't mean to.Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-12700649341229166702008-09-06T23:29:00.004+02:002008-09-06T23:47:43.089+02:00Time to Come HomeI am closing my eyes, and my mind is wandering.<div>I am among the greyish clouds, flying along side a lost kite.</div><div>I am closing my eyes, and my dear heart is clinging.</div><div>I am getting closer to the ground, with a bird by my side.</div><div><br /></div><div>The wind is not flowing, like I hold my breath.</div><div>The sky looks so sad, like I want to cry along.</div><div>The rainbow is shy today, and I put a pillow on my head.</div><div>The tall trees are the skycrapers, and I start to sing a song.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am calling for a feeling like home.</div><div>I am longing to breath the smell of home.</div><div>I am missing the dusty paths back home.</div><div>I am singing the song of home.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am closing my eyes, holding my heart.</div><div>I am feeling so safe, but I know I am far.</div><div>I am longing for a place, and I know I am in rush.</div><div>I am waiting for my time to come home.</div><div><br /></div><div>-------------------------------------------------------------</div><div><br /></div><div>I am seriously homesick!!!</div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-17402199898543051982008-08-30T22:48:00.005+02:002008-10-03T15:30:26.342+02:00The Dancer in Red<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRglJleS60q3F6q366MNhYqncu5IQ9XVuvCl9az_Zm1_X5NCCTBA4096UlVbwZ4MvGDRoPJu6tQAuh2eQJ4hoHBSWpfBvtwEerinxQN7XwqIaRMAYQsVD61glbtLbjdZw11uZ/s1600-h/The+Dancer+in+Red.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRglJleS60q3F6q366MNhYqncu5IQ9XVuvCl9az_Zm1_X5NCCTBA4096UlVbwZ4MvGDRoPJu6tQAuh2eQJ4hoHBSWpfBvtwEerinxQN7XwqIaRMAYQsVD61glbtLbjdZw11uZ/s320/The+Dancer+in+Red.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240415677455732770" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The Dancer in Red</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Acrylic on Cotton Canvas</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">---------------------------------</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This painting was made to commemorate a passion that brought </div><div style="text-align: center;">Jasmine and Vincent to their happiness; Dance.</div><div style="text-align: center;">18.08.2008</div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-71514178340491804432008-08-24T12:29:00.009+02:002008-08-24T22:20:13.187+02:00The PresentInspired by a genius novel, the Alchemist, I realized that I have been concentrating on picturing my future. How will I live, what kind of job will I have, how will I be happy and satisfied, how and where I will spend my old days, and with whom I will spend those days. I thought that picturing those things would drive my present and make me work harder for those dreams. Maybe I have read too many books and heard too many stories about living dreams that makes the idea of the dreams itself has become so important. But I just now realized that the idea makes me keep dreaming, and eventually without being able to wake up. <div><br /></div><div>I think the secret of dreaming is actually the happiness itself, because we never dream of something terrible consciously. When we dream consciously, we experience a temporary satisfaction, because those dreams are the things that we want the most that we think will make us happy. It might also be that we dream of those things because we want something different in our life than we actually live now, or than those lives that we have seen around us that we do not want to have. Now that I have been busy dreaming, I have not started pursuing it.</div><div><br /></div><div>A wise man in the novel said the simplest and wisest piece of advice that I translated into this meaning, 'Live your present. What is the worth of your dreams and your future if you cannot have your present right and die anyway today?'. I thought of that sense and pictured myself, and I saw this person who is standing by the sea enjoying peace of the wind. Then I am asking myself, 'Why am I in peace?'. I could not understand why. I thought of what I have achieved, about the life I live, and those are all nothing yet compared to my dreams. So why on earth am I in peace?</div><div><br /></div><div>I realized that the dream itself that has put me in peace, the temporary relieve that I have dreams to pursue. I am actually close to lie to myself. I then realized that it might be the time to actually pursue those dreams, cause this peace is of course not eternal. By being blinded by that peace, I might drive myself into something far different than my dreams, the things that I actually do not want to. I might also end up living those lives of the people around me, which I hate. Today might be.... is the day to start living my present, not living the dream, which I hope eventually will bring me to my dreams, and be thankful of that I think about this today, not tomorrow or some other day when I might have been late.</div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-68520709257977946632008-08-17T21:23:00.006+02:002008-08-18T21:04:31.586+02:00The Lost PrideI think today will be the most suitable day of the year to ask this one question:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Why don't I excite anymore about the Indonesian Independence Day?</span><br /><br />Deep down, as an Indonesian, I am feeling terribly wrong. I know that there must be something wrong, either with me- or my country - or probably both to be fair.<br /><br />Today all of my flat-mates are going to The Hague, to the Indonesian Ambassador. As usual, every August 17th they hold a flag-hoisting ceremony, which is followed by traditional games and performances. This event always attracts the Indonesian people living in the Netherlands. The visitors even exceed the sum of visitors of the two important holidays; Ied and Christmas. For some people, the most attractive part of the event would be the food, which is especially prepared with Indonesian delicacies. Apart from that particular reason- the food-, I am not quite sure whether those people attend the ceremony is simply because they love their 'real' country- Indonesia- since some of them might not anymore hold Indonesian passport, or simply for the togetherness after the ceremony?<br /><br />For me, I am home instead. I prefer to sit in front of my computer sending some job applications. This year is my forth year in the Netherlands, yet I feel like the longer I stay here, the less I care about those nationalism thingies. I think the bottom line theory should have been, "the longer I stay abroad, the more I miss my country, the more I care about it". It does not happen though. And if you ask the people living here, I bet that not even half of them will say that they want to go back to Indonesia and build their "real" country. Why? I honestly do not know. Am I feeling terrible? Yes I am. Can I do something about it? No.<br /><br />It is rather embarrassing actually, the fact that I don't admire my own country anymore, considering that I was a flag-hoister back in high school. Because of this flag-hoisting-activity, back when I first time arrived in the Netherlands, I was this big girl who loved her country. I told everyone that when I finish my school I am going to go back to Indonesia and build my country, and I insisted that everyone should think so. Every time I talked to people about Indonesia, my heart was like swollen with pride hearing them talking about the beauty of Indonesia. I then realized that four years feel just like one blink of an eye. I can't remember anymore the last time I told the same argument that I told four years ago. I can't remember why I stopped, and when it happened. I also can remember the feeling of being that big, feeling of giving everything to my country, being proud and peaceful.<br /><br />It might be true that a part of the answer was my previous blog, that I can't find anymore a reason to love my country. Another half would be the pride of being an Indonesian. I think this is all because my heart is not swollen anymore with that pride, the pride that I had four years ago. I need to find the pride that I have lost. How? tell me.Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-57470282218326858602008-07-19T23:52:00.011+02:002008-10-04T15:28:42.311+02:00Alasan yang tepat<p>Seseorang non-nasionalis bertanya tentang kecintaannya terhadap negaranya. Ia dituntut untuk berbuat sesuatu untuk negaranya. Bukan untuknya, bukan untuk orang yang dicintainya, tetapi untuk negaranya. Walau negara adalah bagian dari identitasnya, negara baginya adalah zat absurd yang tidak bicara padanya, yang tidak membuatnya tertawa, yang tidak mencukupi apa yang ia butuhkan sebagai manusia.</p><p>Apabila negara bukan benda absurd yang tak terjamah, negara bisa diandaikan sebagai seorang perempuan. Jika kau bertemu seorang perempuan di kereta untuk pertama kalinya, perempuan yang tidak menarik. Perempuan ini tak bicara padamu, tak melucu dan tak membuatmu tertawa, tak menawarkan minuman dingin yang dipegangnya saat dia melirikmu dan melihatmu menelan ludah tanda kehausan. Apa yang akan kau lakukan untuk perempuan ini? Apakah kau akan menawarkan diri untuk membawakan tas belanjaannya? Apakah kau memiliki alasan untuk berbuat banyak untuk perempuan ini? Sang non-nasionalis berkata, ''Sebuat senyuman akan cukup."</p><p>Bagi sang non-nasionalis tuntutan ini lebih berat daripada menjalankan semua tuntutan agama dan kepercayaannya. Baginya hidup haruslah berdasar pada hubungan mutualisme, hubungan sebab akibat, memberi dan menerima. Baginya mencintai negara tidak sejalan dengan semua prinsip-prinsip hidupnya itu. Dan diatas semua itu, mencintai negara membutuhkan sebuah alasan. Dan ia tidak dapat menemukan alasan yang tepat untuk mencintai negaranya, dengan sepenuh hati. Alasan yang logis, yang membuatnya rela berkorban bagi negaranya. Alasan yang manusiawi, bukan hanya semata-mata karena negara itu adalah identitasnya. Ia mencari alasan yang kuat. Alasan seperti alasan untuk mencintai seorang wanita. Baginya tanpa alasan kuat dan logis itu, ia dan negara bagaikan guntingan-guntingan kertas tak berlem. Tanpa alasan itu, sebagai seorang manusia ia tahu suatu saat ia akan berpaling ke sesuatu yang lebih riil, sesuatu yang lebih logis, sesuatu yang berbeda dan menawarkan prinsip-prinsip yang ia anut.<br /><br />Sang non-nasionalis adalah seorang pencari. Ia mencari alasan. Ia mencari bukan untuk memberi, tapi untuk mengerti alasan yang tepat untuk mencintai. Ia tahu bahwa pencarian ini akan tak mudah. Semua ini sulit dan menantang karena negara bukan sebidang tanah, bukan sebatas lambang, dan juga bukan tuhan yang mewajibkan umat manusia untuk menjunjungnya. Negara adalah zat tercair yang tak terbendung dan tak terprediksi. Negara adalah kumpulan ide-ide. Negara adalah manusia-manusia, dan negara bukan saya. Selama ia tidak mengenal manusia-manusia ini dan segudang ide-idenya, ia tak akan mulai untuk mencintai negara.<br /><br />Mengenal mungkin akan menyukai. Menyukai mungkin akan mencintai. Dengan alasan yang tepat semua itu akan menjadi mungkin.</p>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-20221646339346645592008-06-28T20:57:00.004+02:002008-08-18T21:05:19.706+02:00I made it, I am the World's greatest!<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I am that star up in the sky<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I am that mountain peak up high</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Hey, I made it!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I'm the world's greatest!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And I'm that little bit of hope</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I can feel it</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I'm the world's greatest!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The World's Greatest- R.Kelly</span></span></div><div>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div><br /></div><div>I have never imagined that I would finally make it. I can't believe that no one would call me a student anymore. Above all, I can't believe that I am about to face the real life, and be a real money maker. I can now start thinking about more serious things, those challenging stuffs.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have been calling my families to tell them about my graduation. I have never expected that they all are going to be that excited, especially from my father's side. I guess it was because I am both the eldest daughter and grandchild. It made me SMILE to hear them saying 'I am so proud of you...', although I am still not sure what that pride should be about. Because I guess graduating somehow makes my life, financially, less attractive. On the other side, I know that I must be proud of myself for what I have been doing in the last four years, and I do. All those life surprises and lessons learned are worth that SMILES.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, one more step to go. If I can find a job, then I would definitely crown myself as the world's greatest! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-6398414246825941542008-05-12T09:52:00.012+02:002008-08-18T21:05:56.838+02:00A story about a smileNo matter what we try, and no matter how strong we are, human never have a power to push away Monday. Monday always comes. And its presence makes all smiles that human can ever have disappear. Probably not for some workaholics, and for some people with some special happiness-related cases. But I am certain that most of the normal people do feel like erasing Monday. For all the sake of happiness, the smiles needed to be reborn.<br /><br />Some people decided to rewrite their smiles with a cup of the blackest coffee, without sugar, without milk, with an extra shot. Good choice to reopen their eyes, but I don't think smile would come from coffee. The only possibility might happen is the opposite of happiness, bitterness. Obviously the coffee must have tasted bitter, the smile is still a fetus.<br /><br />Some people thought that lying to themselves might help. They came to their offices about half an hour to an hour late, and said hopelessly to their colleagues who drank their coffee, "Good Morning, monday again!". People would give a slight look, and said bitterly, "Yeah I know it's monday again. Good Morning". I would right away suggest them to rather say, "Bad Morning people, monday again", and people should have replied, "Yeah I know it's monday again. Bad Morning!". Simple, don't lie. Again, the smile is not yet reborn.<br /><br />Some people just did not have a special concern about Monday anymore. They realized that they would not ever beat Monday, and force it to not come. They got up on time, and were in the office on time. They right away went to their working spot and faced the fact that the world will keep moving, without noticing every wish of its habitants. I am guessing that this kind of people must have somekind of dream, or whatsoever that makes the world of Monday is so worth it to live. They even put a slight smile while answering the first phone call on Monday. They went by the rule, be mainstream. I suppose that the smile is ready to be born on Tuesday.<br />------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><div align="center"><em>Born: Tuesday</em></div><div align="center"><em>Died: Sunday</em></div><div align="center"><em>Smile is born to the mainstream people.</em></div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-11086131416509464712008-05-08T22:37:00.005+02:002008-05-09T00:06:22.809+02:00Happy BirthdayOne of my favorite days in my life.<br />I am thankful because people still do remember my day.<br />Today is just perfect and full of nice people.<br />I just realized that having a birthday is not only about me.<br />It is more about people around me,<br />who make me feel that the day is indeed special.<br /><br />:)Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-79419240220492770842008-04-25T23:43:00.004+02:002008-04-26T00:00:50.923+02:00Weekend: Family TimeI always love my weekend, which apparently I appreciate more lately. There is another thing I love besides my sleep: That I get to meet my friends. Spending hours in the living room playing video games, watching football, which I don't like, or cleaning the house. I know they don't sound like fun, but I do think It is fun because it feels like home. Sometimes we spend a little hour to go together to supermarket, doing some groceries for dinner. I have been enjoying a lot the days, especially when it comes to talking in the dining table, which always ends up with the most enjoyable laughs. When it comes to weekend, it always comes to my second family, the people that have been replacing the function of my nuclear family.<br /><br />:)Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-63465330688958773112008-04-19T21:54:00.004+02:002008-04-19T23:37:56.764+02:00The SearchI had a little talk with my flatmate two days ago. It was about the belief. I usually tend to avoid this kind of conversation, as usually it is down to religion. And religion is personal to me. Personal, in the same way as talking about my family matter. But that night, I did it anyway.<br /><br />It appeared that she is jealous because I believe in something. And I've never heard such thing before. That was why I stayed.<br /><br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />I admit that I do not really practice my belief. Although I also admit that I do still believe and always will. Practicing or not, one thing that I will always keep in mind, that I do what I do because I believe that is the right way, I do everything in my own way, and I keep that only between me and Him.<br /><br />But it is really hard to actually stay on one belief. I keep reading books. I talk to people, but I am still not sure. Why I envy you is because you can have something to hold on. You believe in something.<br /><br />I do not believe to have something to hold on to. To be honest I keep my belief only for leading my life to a good way, my own good way. I use my belief to keep the good from the bad, the bad from the good. Although the actual difference between those is subtle. Some people think that the belief is a part from our identity. I'd say it is more the way of life that results in our identity. In short, I would not let people know me because I am a muslim then I am a good person. I'd prefer people know me because I am a good person because I am a muslim. If we think like this, no one would do stereotyping in this world anymore.<br /><br />I admit that I also believe in something bigger than us, but there are just too much doubts already along that belief that make me rather not go for it.<br /><br />Doubts. The only question would be.. about what?<br /><br />About which one. About why I should choose.<br /><br />Who says that you have to stick in one of those. You don't always get to choose if you see believing in the same way as I do. By the end of the day, being good and happy are the ultimate goal. Those two might be cliche, but I guess with those two you can almost always survive from anything, but death of course. If I were you, I would treat my beliefs as I have been treating my cultural experience for the past four years. I tend not to avoid anything, instead I filter them. I have been collecting the cultural essences to make my own culture. This way I kinda enrich myself with the things I believe are good. I guess the basic concept of having differences applies here. That's also why companies have been campaigning about diversity program or internationalization. They all adapt one concept. Differences do not always lead to a conflict. Synergy should be the way we approach the differences. It is the same with the beliefs. Let's go with the trends I'd say.<br /><br />It sounds like positive. Have you ever had some doubts about it thou?<br /><br />I of course did. Especially after about the whole of my life learning about the same thing. I thought it would have been like learning math. If you do not understand you'd ask for sure, until you get the right formula to solve the equation. Doubt in believing for me does not work like that. You do not get to always ask. The more questions you have, sometimes it will bring you futher. One day a person told me to stop asking. It was so absurd I thought. But now I understand that the beliefs are not supposed to be thought in the same way as we thought about science, that everything can be explained. Those are the unreachable, the beliefs, should be somehow preserved by not asking. As time goes by, you are getting wiser, with your preserved belief you'd understand.<br /><br />I am also telling myself, again, now, that that time will come.<br /><br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Based on a nice talk with Aimee van Dinten. Details of the story do not refer to the actual conversation.</span></em>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-60686671213954033052008-03-31T19:14:00.003+02:002008-04-19T21:46:50.596+02:00My Childhood Ambitions<strong><em>Weight/Family</em></strong><br /><br />I am about to graduate in four months, if I am lucky with my thesis. Hopefully by July all the school weights will be lifted from my shoulder, or shoulders in this case, because I have been carrying this with my both hands, even with all my body, and my parents’ body, and my grandparents’ body, and my aunt’s body.<br /><br /><strong><em>Question/Clue<br /></em></strong><br />In this kind of situations, it is so typical that people will be asking this one question. This question is like a key question or a mandatory questions for people like me. Sometimes people do mean to ask you this and the answer would definitely be interesting for them. There are also some who ask this question in a social context. But I still do appreciate both, and I always answer this question with all my heart. Although what I mean by ‘with all my heart’ is actually ‘I don’t know yet’ or merely a ‘Let’s see!’. I think those just describe enough my real situation now.<br /><br />They ask me about my plan, ‘so, what are you doing next? Are you staying in Holland or going back?’. I sometimes don’t know why these two questions sound so complicated. One of course is because I really have no idea about the future, which makes me not able to really answer it. Second of all, the one that I am afraid of, I might actually not know what I really want to do. That is I think why.<br /><br /><strong><em>Perception/Different.</em></strong><br /><br />Probably millions of people out there know already what they actually want to do, or at least have dreams about it already. Me, is the opposite. I am definitely not talking about me being so absurd not knowing what I want to do. I am also not talking about me doing nothing after I graduate. I am also definitely not talking about taking master’s degree, because I have no money or no rich person or company that would like to pay my study, besides I am also not that much of a genius person. So that is not an option.<br /><br />What I meant by the opposite way is about me giving shot to every possible direction. About me letting myself to be taken by every opportunity coming. It is also about me learning everything out there, not filtering the world yet, until I really know what I really want. Until I really know my real capabilities. Until I know which field I should be in to be a rich person. Well, to be quiet frank, by the end of the day, it is all about the money, and then of course about self-satisfaction.<br /><br /><strong><em>Ambition/Dream.<br /></em></strong><br />As a child I did have some ambitions. I could even say that those are still in my head now. I still remember, there are two wishes. For your information, I actually wrote those down for my scholarship submission paper about four years ago. One, I want to be a good housewife. Second, I want to own an orphanage. I don’t know how on earth I could make it on that scholarship program with those two dreams, but I did make it. And I too don’t know, how am I studying here in Holland, with those two dreams are kept in my mind.<br /><strong><em><br />Dream/Challenge.</em></strong><br /><br />My next question for myself would be, how could I reach my childhood dream, plus all the dreams that I have been collecting along the way. They include Audi A3, apartment without garden, dark brown leather coat, feminine appearance which I found a bit cliché sometime ago, be the breadwinner of the family, be a successful working wife, be a daughter of a happy family, be a mother without giving birth, make people around me happy, be happy. I am not finished here with my list. But they are just too much to mention. But from here you know that I only want to be just like other people’s wish, be happy.<br /><strong><em><br />Next step/Future</em></strong><br /><br />So I am here now, four months before my graduation, with my plan of giving shot to every opportunity coming. As usual, as I always say..<br /><br />‘Make the most out of Everything’.<br /><br />So, by the end of my day I would not be disappointed for not trying. I might look like a generalist. Yet, instead I would say that I am a learner.<br /><br /><strong><em>Goal/End<br /></em></strong><br />Happy.Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-310922617888454712008-03-28T22:34:00.018+01:002008-03-30T13:22:01.037+02:00A short dialogue with a PainterHe was once a businessman, running a quite successful small business in Holland. He is married with 2 children, Jessica and Marteen. He woke up every morning, went downstairs for a cup of coffee and made pancakes for the children. On the lazy days, he stayed upstairs faking his sleep to let his wife, Rieke, fed the children. He loved his life more than anything. He loved his routines. He loved his stressful work and to see his secretary having a secret affair with a guy on the 2nd floor. He loved his weekends in the garden during spring with his children, with his mother overlooking them from the veranda. It was obvious when people saw him walking in the neighborhood, or walking through the office corridor, or in the supermarket busy with his plastic bags, or just jogging around the corner, they definitely would say 'a good life is his life' and that always left a slight smile on their faces.<br /><br />Until one day, on Wednesday morning, in a windy spring. It was no way an ordinary wind that day. That day trees were down, people are sent home and forced to be home, no school and children playing outside, instead of blossom flower, the wind took the flower along. For him it was like the other business day. He was on the way to a business appointment. He took his car. He listened to his new U2, and did not turn his news-switcher on, that made him isolated from the latest news. He was on the road, 80km/h, and it was raining cats and dogs. The phone suddenly was ringing, once, twice, third times, and....<br /><br />still. silence was all over him. silentness. mute. nothing.<br /><br />Three weeks after that, all he knew was that something bad happened that day. How, when, what, no one knew exactly. The doctor said that there were some damages with his skull that had impacted his way of thinking. That made working in a company was no longer an option. For him, for his family, for his company too, that day was the longest day of his life.<br /><br />He was then referred to a psychiatrist, and spent hours of talking with him. About life, love, money, past, future, children, mother, any single thing he could think about. One day he was asked to stop seeing the psychiatrist and left with a single piece of advice, "find your hobby to make yourself happy again".<br /><br />It was the most absurd thing he ever heard. He hated the psychiatrist for leaving him, for letting him thought that life is hard again, even harder. He then stayed home. He started watching TV. boring. He moved to radio. boring. He started with photography. Too expensive after a while. Then cooking. Tasteless. Then reading. His eyes got tired after thousands of books and his brain got full. Then music. Still music. Stayed a while in the music. Pretty good one. Then he got inspiration to paint. Red. Blue. Green. Lines. Circles. People. People. Women. Monster. Anything. He fell in love, with painting.<br /><br />He continued going back and forth a hobby shop around the corner to buy another canvas, sometimes the guy gave him something for free. Black canvas, new type of acrylic, painting books, story about painting, some brushes, even glass palette. His painting started to make his small apartment full of his painting. He then started to go around the neighborhood to sell his painting. To a tall guy with a nerd daughter. To a former business partner, he sold a big one. To an artist who is a cousin of his former supplier. To his children's teacher. He gave three also to his children's school. One to the city library, the darkest one because he thought the library was too colorful. One, the one with a lot of yellow on it, to his mother, because he thought his mother shines for some reasons. And one, the one he liked the most, he wrapped that for his 14th marriage anniversary, and gave it as a surprise present to his wife.<br /><br />He enjoys painting.<br /><br />It has been five years since those days. Now, he lives in Belgium in a small city about three hours from Holland. He paints for living, with a title of 'Levenskunstenaar' stated on his brochure and business card. He does abstact most of the time, with people as the centre of the story. He is invited by big companies to paint for them. His creations now are hung on companies' wall. He paints around 40 paintings every year. His life is back. Some differences here and there. No fake sleep anymore. No 9-5 in the office. No secretary. No weekdays and weekends. His days are just days, where he can work on the weekends and sleep on the weekdays. Although those are not parts of his life anymore, 4 people are still the same, Rieke, Jessica and Marteen. Once again, smile has been brought to his, their life. Once again people look at them and say 'a good life is his life', with an additional thought of 'when you can do what you love to do'.<br /><br />He is back on business, without supplier, without partner, without office. Just the business. He calls his new life, an enjoyable life.<br /><br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">This story is based on a short dialogue with an artist, Pim Smit, who told me to not think when I start paint, in Eindhoven, while he was painting in a food court during lunch hour, on a windy shiny spring of Holland.</span></em>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-39928453095548828142007-12-28T02:56:00.000+01:002007-12-28T03:19:27.811+01:00Magic Button<p class="MsoNormal">Regardless the scientific facts, I keep wondering about the reason behind remembering and forgetting something. No matter how old a person is, they never have the opportunity to actually remember and to forget whatever they want. Sometimes that fact even makes the world seems so cruel. For me, necessity of going to school does not make any senses, as people won't even completely remember what they have been taught. Ask yourself, what do you remember about high school's biology? It is so pity that people have to go to school and work they ass off to pass the exam, just to forget everything.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>You might just say "Well, that is how it should work!". But how about broken people who were dumped in high school and could never have their normal life back? They strive to forget their memory of tears, yet the memory won't go anywhere, so does their life, stuck. They just sit in the corner and think about it all the time.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Nowadays, technology invention is such a huge issue. More and more people utilize technology to upgrade their life. For me, although I am far from being a technology savvy, it is the time for inventor to give a try so they are able to provide the opportunity for people like I mentioned before, simply by helping them with their memory.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>These thoughts interestingly make me thinking about a small, most likely stupid, idea. My idea would be <span style="font-weight: bold;">"What if people can have a magic button?"</span> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>According to my idea, this particular button will have three main functions; to save, to erase and to recollect, and is able to take control of the owner’s brain.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">To save</span><o:p></o:p><br />This function probably is the most important one, as it enables the owner to not only save, but also marks the event as a memory. Only those marked as 'Memory' can be clearly memorized by the owner naturally. It simply works as you remember your today's morning coffee, natural. What happens to those which are not marked is that some of them will most likely disappear, just like those memories of a 4-year-old child. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">To erase</span><o:p></o:p><br />There are some events that might seem inappropriate to remember, or perhaps it is too painful to remember. With this function the owner can control the brain to actually erase the memory. As the button is pushed, the memory is gone forever and the owner will not be able to recall it naturally anymore. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">To recollect</span><br />To be fair, I guess it would be also wise to always give the opportunity for the owner to recollect their memory, should they want it back. The owner will not remember about the memory they would like to recollect, unless there is one who reminds them about a particular memory. As the owner knows when and where the event is, they can simply type the details and press the button. Shortly they will have their memory back, wittingly or not.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I am still not sure if this would make a brilliant idea or merely be just a trash. But hey, this magic button can somehow make a person’s life better. Although there is always a bad side, as long as it still does some good, I guess the world still has to strive for it. <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="">:)</span></span></p>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-9511537841935579072007-05-22T22:07:00.000+02:002008-12-10T07:05:30.855+01:00Rode Zee<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvGnxZVpuerdPve1jRDgFjwTPzum-PP5L_xShFfc45BWo6JHpnZdN584h0Eh_j8KJEOEfTflIvJUL4IDXbdsf9dpV670XXHGTKgJQqFxwZEOSMJQ6NbiA1g38MecBz0iDyhQUU/s1600-h/lukisan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvGnxZVpuerdPve1jRDgFjwTPzum-PP5L_xShFfc45BWo6JHpnZdN584h0Eh_j8KJEOEfTflIvJUL4IDXbdsf9dpV670XXHGTKgJQqFxwZEOSMJQ6NbiA1g38MecBz0iDyhQUU/s320/lukisan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148254559814662354" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Rode Zee</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Acrylic on canvas<br /></div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-28227939005391455252007-02-16T13:37:00.000+01:002008-03-31T23:27:49.678+02:00Shit!When you are trapped in a shitty life, all you can do is saying<br />Shit!<br />Shit!<br />Shit!<br />without having any power of walking away.Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-1640270358458488152007-02-08T20:39:00.000+01:002007-02-08T21:56:09.602+01:00Same old scenario<div align="left">I hate your mother because the way she tells what she does not like. I also hate your mother because the way she behaves toward my family. I also hate your mother for not admitting me as the breadwinner of the family, that I am the suppose to be the respected one. I also hate your mother because she is so careless. I also hate your mother because she would not ever care about me and family, for every little detail. I hate your mother because she always makes trouble for me. I hate your mother because she always hides everything from me. I hate your mother because she is insensitive. I hate your mother because she always sleeps all the time, even when it is unnecessary and when we have guest in our house. I hate your mother because I am stuck with her, because I married her, 21 years ago.<br /></div><div align="left"><br />Yes I know, I have been told. Yes I know, I have been told yesterday. Yes I know, I have been told last week. Yes I know, I have been told last month. Yes I know, I remember, it is the same story that I heard last year, or was it 2 years ago, or probably 5 years ago. Yes I must know, It must be the same old scenario as I have been told a very long time ago.<br /></div><div align="left"><br />I hate your father because he is so lazy. I hate your father because he never tries to understand me. I hate your father because he does not want to move forward, or it seems so at least. I hate your father, I actually hate as well your father's family. I hate your father because he is full of judgement. I hate your father because he made me not able to have all my dreams. I hate your father because he always us to respect him. I hate your father because he is so boring. I hate your father because every morning all I see is him sitting in the living room, looks like thinking something serious, while basically doing nothing. I hate your father because I am stuck with him because I married him, 21 years ago.<br /></div><div align="left"><br />Yes I know, I have been told. Yes I know, I have been told yesterday. Yes I know, I have been told last week. Yes I know, I have been told last month. Yes I know, I remember, it is the same story that I heard last year, or was it 2 years ago, or probably5 years ago. Yes I must know, It must be the same old scenario as I have been told a very long time ago.</div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-46748532588748652122007-01-16T00:06:00.000+01:002007-01-16T00:12:17.663+01:001st day at work<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">daily update:</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">06.40</span> : the ring of my alarm shocked me.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">06.58 </span>: managed to get up. slowly and lazily washed prepared my self for the day.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">07.20</span> : got out from flat. walked to the station<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">07.40</span> : bought ticket to amersfoort<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">07.45</span> : choosing bread in Albert Heijn to go (the name of supermarket chain in the station) as my breakfast. I chose eirenkoeken (egg cookies)<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">07.54</span> : waiting at platform 7 for the train. but didnt come. it was delayed for 10 minutes (happened to be the first bad luck today)<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">08.05</span> : started to be worry since had to be at the office at 09.00. still there was a chance thou.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">08.10</span> : started cursing cause the train was delayed for another 5 minutes. met 2 indonesian friends going to amsterdam.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">08.15</span> : the train finally came. feeling like running.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">08.30</span> : sitting on the train and talking with my friends pretending not freaking out.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">08.35</span> : cursing once again, harder. the train was changed into stoptrein which made it run slower, much more slower. desperate.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">08.50</span> : running to platform 12 to catch the train connection. didnt make it. cursing again. there should be another train in 2 minutes. BUT DELAYED AGAIN! FOR GOD'S SAKE WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON I THOUGHT! sorry for the font, uncontrollable.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.00</span> : tried to call the company informing my late. wasnt connected. damn good start.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.01</span> : the train came. finally finally finally here we go.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.10</span> : couldnt get any desperate than these minutes on the train sitting next to old woman explaining how to cook cookies to someone on the phone.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.18 </span>: AMERSFOORT CENTRAL STATION. got out the train. ran crazily.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.20</span> : thanking god cause the office is right in front of the station.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.22</span> : saying hi to the receptionist and asking for my supervisor name and she said "momentje hoor". phew!<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.23</span> : MINUTES OF SILENCE<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.25</span> : MinUteS oF SileNCe<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.28</span> : minuTes of SileNce<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.30</span> : minutes of silence<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.35</span> : "Morning!" Smiling and Hand shaking and being brought to the department room and met with colleagues.<br /> There are 4 islands of desks in my department<br /> - on my island ill be working with a maroccan girl Samira (on monday and tuesday), David whom i havent met (wednesday, thursday,friday)<br /> - on the island of the head of departments; Italian guy Sandro, French woman Cecile, 2 Dutch guys Niek and Ronald<br /> - on the island next to my island, greek guy whom i forgot the name and a dutch guy whom i also forgot. sorry<br /> - on the furthest island, 2 ducth guys who talk loudly all day and laugh a lot too whom i also forgot their names. another sorry.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.?? </span>: Being introduced with the every people on the building, going to every department and met people whom of course i couldnt remember at all.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.??</span> : Going to HR department and was given a very thick bundle of papers about company thingies and should be read immediatealy.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">09.??</span> : Reading and found that the company dresscode for monday to thursday is business attire, and smart casual for friday. ah well.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">10.??</span> : got presentation about the company and many things about the system and details. looks complicated.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">11.??</span> : Samira showed me how to work on the system. She introduced me 3 different systems today.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">12.30</span> : Lunch Break. Walking to the city centre with Samira. Talking about loads of things.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">13.30</span> : Back.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">14.??</span> : Paying attention on what Samira's doing.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">15.?? </span>: Still the same interupted with going to coffee machine, short conversation over small things, and toilet.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">16.?? </span>: Samira asked me to do what she showed me the whole day. and I got confused and stucked for a while. For every system I always asked "How should I start it again?!"<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">17.?? </span>: Still doing the same. started getting the idea. a little. Samira asked me for another cup of drink, then we went again to the coffee machine.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">17.20</span> : Last checking and tidying our desks.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">17.30</span> : Leaving the offices.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">17.40</span> : Going to ticket service asking about monthly abonement card<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">17.55</span> : Catched the train to utrecht<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">18.10</span> : Stopped in Utrecht to change to the other trein. The trein would be at 18.23, so i bought durum doner. Lekker.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">18.23</span> : Catched the train to arnhem<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">18.50</span> : Arrived in Arnhem. Tired.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">19.00</span> : Walking home. Should have taken my laundry, gone to my friend's house to do laundry there, and had chinese course. But they were all canceled for tomorrow. My teacher is having exam tomorrow.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">19.15</span> : Home<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">19.30 </span>: Telling the story about today to kardus.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">20.00</span> : Interneting.<br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">22.00</span> </span>: Taking shower.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">23.00</span> : South Park watching.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">23.30</span> : About to sleep and thinking of you<br /><br />those will be wrapped up as my day! </div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-69615640004677730272007-01-14T18:53:00.000+01:002007-01-14T20:03:56.661+01:00Good bye student life : For a while<div style="text-align: left;">Today, 14-01-2007, is a remarkable day of my life. I will be having another occupation other than student and part-time dancer for the first time, an intern. I have no idea at all of how would it be and that makes me shaky and nervous. On the other hand, I am so excited with my internship. I will meet new people, new challenges, new things which should be interesting for me. But I also see myself sitting in front of the computer, crazily bored, with red sleepy eyes..ehehehe.<br /><br />My family is even more excited. They keep asking about all the details again and again. How far the city from Arnhem, what am I gonna wear, how long the break would be everday. Ah well, I can understand that being parents would be always a hard task yet exciting.<br /><br />Although this weekend is the last weekend, I did not do something special today. My day was rather useless. I woke up late, slept late, wasting my day mostly in front of computer. Well, I did also something good, report making.<br /><br />Talking about working life, I am so not patient to see myself free from life of student. Thou some people would do everything to swap their working life with my student life in this quite city, my boyfriend for instance. hehehe. 1,5 years to go!! and that would not be so bad.<br /><br />What is special about today too is that a very good friend of mine married today. It is a shame for me because I did not manage to call her, since I really have no idea which number is active, she must have another new number (this is what I hate about Indonesian people having so many numbers, cause buying new number with credit in it is cheaper than buying the voucher). I sincerely wish her a very happy marriage, that last for eternity. I am happy for you.<br /><br /><br />------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The rest of my student life would be like this:<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Jan 2007-June 2007</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"> Internship<br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;">July 2007-Aug 2007</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"> Summer Internship<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Sept 2007-Dec 2007</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"> Back to student life<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Jan 2008-June 2008</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"> Graduation Assignment<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Sept 2008</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"> Deadline of being student<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Oct 2008</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">FREE!!!!!!</span><br /><br />------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />Now, Cross the fingers and Pray!!<br />Goodbye student life for a while.<br />I know I will miss you, a bit.</div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-9818215735824841872007-01-14T05:18:00.000+01:002008-12-10T07:05:31.006+01:00The Right to Choose<div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4C5zmV7FGqnmALXT8qEpaIXZUOHDF1ztfyYZ2PWeAoAa5eng-aLoZtuqA4ttFkJPa0BR0OmY_sigHt4UYmZW819NPAPX3fLU27RBycjxooDBGMQBLkSkLE73Yb_ehIcjLeX2y/s1600-h/hapus.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4C5zmV7FGqnmALXT8qEpaIXZUOHDF1ztfyYZ2PWeAoAa5eng-aLoZtuqA4ttFkJPa0BR0OmY_sigHt4UYmZW819NPAPX3fLU27RBycjxooDBGMQBLkSkLE73Yb_ehIcjLeX2y/s200/hapus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019745231801706434" border="0" /></a>A girl was so upset cause she just talked with her friend, who is not a close friend whose opinion wouldnt be significant at all for the girl, on a chatbox. She stunned cause of a statement made by her friend, him, to her that she dates her current boyfriend is simply because of nationality status and money, considering the fact that the boyfriend is quite settled already with his life. She even more couldnt believe that he assumed it based on rumor. She couldnt understand the rumor as she is not in poverty so in need of such benefits. And the most unbelievable part is that her friend courageously said it to her without any hesitation, straight forwardly, which is very very offensive.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">And it was not the first time, prior to this he also made statement that he wouldnt be surprised if she convert to her former boyfriend's religion (by then she dated a guy believes in other religion). After a few questions, she knew that this assumption was based on the fact that sometimes she was so lazy to go to the church on sunday and prefered to have lazy day with her boyfriend. He even made a promise to not ever accompany her to go to the church anymore.<br /><br />As a human being who always makes assumption based on uncertainty and lack of information, we make judgements about other people. Sometimes even we dont know the impact to the related person, even when we mean it good. For this issue, picking a boyfriend, i would say is really personal and sensitive. No one can ever tell the reason why this person date this person exactly other than those two persons themselves. Sometimes even we dont know the reason, we just like it, just want it.<br /><br />If we can relate further it would be also about the right of choosing, just like in the national vote. A person can choose whoever he/she likes to be with them. And no one is eligible of judging a person based on his/her choice. People says this person couldnt date this person because this person just broke up with his girlfriend and he should wait a bit more, bla di bla di blah!! or this person is so bad because he dates a junkee widow. And those thousand other stories. Why dont we just mind our own business which is still needed to be done? and let other people happy and sad caused of their own choice?<br /><br />This right of choosing could not only be applied on partner choosing but also in every part of life. Cause life is about choosing, why dont we respect other's choice?</div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-81192905519888826212007-01-02T11:49:00.000+01:002008-12-10T07:05:31.296+01:00I traveled far away, Came back home.From now on, where-ever i will be, the world will stay in my Mind.<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuszpsJZc9ThsDN9dtQZ4dxlhU-er1jchuvnfu2DaFqf34DodfbJB59HBfxX0rsyHEO-1MSLiQChJz7SWoU2L7hNTF-JawOJXe0P3WS-x1JnkXk5XFnZkWS49Z0Jd0Q1E7Vmb/s1600-h/hapus+4.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuszpsJZc9ThsDN9dtQZ4dxlhU-er1jchuvnfu2DaFqf34DodfbJB59HBfxX0rsyHEO-1MSLiQChJz7SWoU2L7hNTF-JawOJXe0P3WS-x1JnkXk5XFnZkWS49Z0Jd0Q1E7Vmb/s320/hapus+4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015383969845974626" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">I traveled far away, Came back home.<br />From now on, where-ever i will be, the world will stay in my Mind.<br /></span>Wax Crayon on Paper<br /><br />------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The World in My Mind</span><br /><pre style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">By Justin Joseph<br /><br />The world in my eyes,<br />Is something that never dies.<br /><br />The river runs in its thundering flows,<br />Then settles in the sun as it glows.<br /><br />In the mud there are eels,<br />And ants biting at my heels.<br /><br />The grass tingling at my feet,<br />And the ground giving off its heat.<br /><br />The birds singing in the trees,<br />Eating bugs like ticks and flees.<br /><br />The wind blowing with a hiss,<br />Then touching the trees with a kiss.<br /><br />With an earth in my hands,<br />I create new lands.<br /><br />In my head that is.</pre><br /></div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19590997.post-1166260247658156982006-12-16T10:06:00.000+01:002007-12-26T13:22:41.038+01:00Romain<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7517/1941/1600/527887/Romain%20copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7517/1941/320/301528/Romain%20copy.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Romain</span><br />Poster Color on Paper<br /><br />-------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">a very happy birthday, Dear.<br /><br /><br /></div></div>Puterihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675472412065911341noreply@blogger.com1