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..that I don't keep a JOURNAL for other people's sake. One tend to forget about it at times, at a cost..

So why do all series' premiere have to be in late september? What am I going to watch until then? I've finished CSI, NCIS, Merlin -- and that's about all series I'm interested in. I want to catch up with both Supernatural and Ghost Whisperer - but my superstitious little self tend to not want to think of spooks and things that go bump in the night that's not a friggin' rabbit on my roof. So maybe by.. say, Ramadhan (where all nasty spirits are tied in holy chains.. dun dun dunn...), I'll catch up with 'em. Besides, I'll be sleeping on daytime during then, so no worry about things that go bump in the night.

The IHFC meetup last week was - unsurprisingly - canceled. Although I would've not minded going to Bintaro and play with Aqiilah all day and night, I was amused to see it canceled. Not surprised, just amused. I guess some people need to realize how unliked they are.. I have no qualms with the arranger. I didn't like her much, but not enough to totally despise her. Actually, I feel (dislike) more strongly for those - or just to make thing simple, *one of* those, who caused the cancellation. I never liked potty mouthed people. I definitely don't like her enough to eventually blocked out her potty-mouthed updates from my news feed. Granted, my kids would never see 'em. But I really would rather not have incidents happen. Besides, the things she said disgusted me to the point of my mental assessment judges would cry: "FOUL" whenever I see her updates flashed on my FF toolbar.

Truth to the matter at hand: You cannot buy milieu. Not even with all the money in the world. Nor the prettiest of pretties in the world.

Speaking of milieu, I reckon another person will get the ignore button from me.. Hey, I drink - or shall I say, I'd *drank* a sailor under the table. But before so (read: when I was in Jr. high etc), I know the names of those drinks - courtesy of my aunt who'd always have a bottle or two (or a half-dozen) in her house. I learned how to roll a brandy, how to pour whiskey, how to take tequila shots, and so on; by observation. But the one thing I will *NOT* mistake are the spelling. There's no way I'd type 'marteeny' unless I've had a half gallon thereof. So when a former schoolmate of mine starting to claim he'd drunk 'vodCa', I can smell the lies.

I do wonder, though, why lies? Why bother lying about such thing? It's not like one's merit is determined by how much one can hold in a sitting - this is definitely *not* russia - where a temperature of 20 centigrades is considered as a bloody heatwave. Indonesia is too hot to make even drinking beer a laughable feat - you'll sweat like a pig under half a can. I've *always* kept my environment under 20 centigrades whenever I take a guzzle of anything with alcohol. So at nights that spit out the fire of a 35 centigrades heat, one claiming he'd been "boozing" deserved nothing but a laugh. Really.. the misspelling is only one indicator of your lies. The frequency is another. Anyone who drinks with the frequency you "claimed" you've done ought to be worried of their liver. Or chronic alcoholism. And being in Indonesia, that would also mean lack of body fat - sweating a lot tend to do that to you. But hey, you're as fat as a pig! So, mind if I uncover your lies? Oh wait, I reckon everybody knew that already. That's why they never bothered to treat you with the respect you've always craved.

lulz.

I guess with the absence of things-to-watch, I should really get back to writing.. Or designing. Neither's muse seems to be around at this time of the day, though.

I need to budget to buy a new monitor. This one is short of dying. *sigh*

Happy b'day, little Andrea - the one on my pic. You're so much more pain in the ass than you were back then. Somebody should truly bitchslap you and make you behave like a little girl instead of a wannabe adult. Oh wait, make that: bitchslap your mother. Nothing's more sad and pathetic than little kids behaving like adults.
  • Listening to: Bon Jovi - Bells of Freedom
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
Reckon a number of people (who are interested enough) would have heard about the (yet another) bombing at J.W. Marriott Hotel and Ritz Carlton Hotel in Jakarta.

One of the victims (out of 9) who died was my cousin's boss. Had he been here, my cousin would've been in that meeting with the boss, since he's second-in-command in their company. God is obviously still protecting him - he went on leave just a few days ago. The instant we heard the name of the company mentioned on TV, though, our stomach did a nice hefty topsy-turvy which was settled only when mom finally called my cousin's oldest bro and got the news that he was - in fact - not even in Jakarta. Dear God, talkin' bout close calls..

As I watch the impromptu footages from cellphone cameras and other random cameras in the area, my mind inevitably flashed back to 2003. I was there. I saw the blast. I saw people bleeding, screaming, missing limbs etc. I'd walked past the bomb's container and it was only by God's grace that it didn't explode while I was passing. God literally showed me his love for me that day in hundreds of ways: steering me out of the restaurant that was later blown to pieces, getting me there five minutes late than our designated meeting time, making my cousin insisted that we accompany him to the parking lot (instead of dropping us ladies at the lobby), and so on and so forth. If I'd doubt in God before that day, it was quickly eradicated.

Today, however, as I watch the footages, one thing struck me: the difference. The bomb wasn't - as it was before - from outside of the hotel. It was from *inside*. Later development showed that the bomb squad found an unexploded bomb in a room on the 18th floor of the Marriott. That got me wondering: would a terrorist cell deliberately rent a room in a DIAMOND-star hotel (for those not understanding hotel lingo; Diamond = uberexpensive) to build a bomb? If they do, where'd they got the money from? Furthermore, I *know* for a fact that NO 5+ star hotel in Jakarta would accept cash. You *have* to HAVE a credit card. And seriously? Who would want to give a credit card to some random, non-6-digits-pay, person? They didn't just walk into the hotel, assemble the bomb and let it pop. They *rented a room*.

The president said that he has inklings and info as to who may be responsible behind all those. I do, too. And from the President's remarks, I have a good impression that he, too, is thinking of the same people I am. I'm sure he - and his staff - hasn't such a short memory of an event akin to this that has happened before, and of a certain keyplayer that was untouchable (at that time) who'd only recently resurfaced on media's radar. I sure pray to God Almighty that this time, the said keyplayer made a slip and get to be arrested big time. I promise, if he get arrested, I'll be first in line to spit on his face.

The title? That's the no. 1 trending topic on twitter as of this hour. We don't give a fuck of jonas, harry potter, whatever. We will show those lameass little bitches that WE ARE UNITED. We are Indonesian.
  • Listening to: Bon Jovi - Bells of Freedom
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
Just read a journal about someone miffed at people asking for charity/chipin/paypal/whathaveyous. Can't disagree. Not in the least bit.

I whine about my lack of fund-age, definitely. In my journal(s). Therefore, it's my right. How bad? You don't need to know. It's bad enough that if you know how bad, you'll cringe. Will I ask for a damn charity? Not in a million years. I work with everything I have to make ends meet. And that's how I will die. Making ends meet.

So kids today decide that it's easier to whine on the interwebs at how "bad" their "financial situation" is, and "lyke, I's gunn die z0mg" if "j00 d0nT seNd me $$$ a LOAD of it right NAO!!1!"

Eh.

Disgusting is the understatement of the century. Sorry, I can't sympathize nor empathize. I have made personal loans to some people IRL. I have sold valuables to them to pay bills. I've begged people for jobs. I do have high appreciation and a lot of prayers for the people who (at special events e.g. Eid/birthdays) gave me cash. But I will NOT beg people for cash. At the point - God forbids - where I can no longer work my brain for cash, I will probably sell a kidney or an eye or both eyes or something. And no, I'm not joking. I'll sell a limb/organ before I beg for cash. The last time I bought a "new" outfit was.. dear God, I can't even remember. Do I feel sorry for it? Nope. Not at all. Is there anything I want in the "pretty-maker" department? Oh yes. A lot. Anything I *need*? Nope, nothing that'll kill me if I don't get 'em.

Somebody just remarked that I'm "liked everywhere." I smirked, then sneered. Could it be, because I've never told you of my hardships? Oh sure, I have 'em. Loads of 'em. The kind of hardships that westerners would probably die within the first weeks of experiencing. Do I have to detail them? Hell no. Why? I don't need your sympathy. Your sympathy isn't going to pay my bills. Your sympathy isn't going to give me everything I want. Still, it amused me how the instant I reveal a little of a hardship I'm enduring, the rats abandoned ship as if it was sinking helplessly. Wow.

One thing's for sure, though. I'm tired of being the shoulder to cry on. Seriously, why should I? What good is my shoulder if you're not gonna change yourself? It's online life, I can't do anything more. And I can tell you that words are just that: words. They don't mean a thing unless it moves you to *do* something. What you *do* is yours and yours alone. Not mine. I can say/type a lot of words and they won't mean nothing but a bunch of letters. A friend once told me that I've earned the MBA degree - Master of Bullshitting Art. He'd only seen a snippet of something I've written. I think he has deeper thinking pattern than anyone ever gave him credit for.

Conclusion: Stop asking for charity. Period end.
  • Listening to: Bon Jovi - Everybody's Broken
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
No, I'm not telling.

What I *will* tell, however, is that yesterday I spent the whole afternoon with my grandnephew, Nesta. It's been quite a while (3 years) since I held babies. But really, holding a seven-day-old baby is like riding a bike, once you get it, you can't forget it. Or like learning to hold your breath underwater. You can't forget it no matter how much you try. Actually, I once needed to aspirate a liquid medication thingy for my sinus, and failed miserably. My trachea just promptly redirected itself to my mouth the instant an object - liquid or otherwise - enters my nostrils. Funny, but true.

And I miss Nesta. His mom has some problems with her wrist and wasn't able to hold him properly, yet. So I'd lifted him from his crib to be nursed and whatnot, and elicited several worried gasps from his grandma and great grandma (from mom's side) who weren't familiar with my expertise with infants. Later my cousin told them that Nesta, at 3.2 kg, is definitely not the smallest baby I'd held. Syaskia, my now 13-yr-old niece, was 2.7 kg, and I'd held her when she was a little older (as in, by days) than Nesta.

Anywayness..

'S'all.
  • Listening to: Bon Jovi - I Got The Girl
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
I had my life flashed before my eyes in the past several days. Am not overly peachy as of now, but I feel physically better - no more racking pains and all. Emotionally, I'm as high as a kite. I just witnessed the birth of my first grand-nephew. A baby boy, born today at 13.52, 3.3k and 50cm, through a C-section. Baby and mom are healthy and he was nursing by the time I left the hospital. I feel incredibly blessed for my family and the things they showed me. Furthermore, I feel blessed that I'm alive to witness all of those.

Life is all about choices. You can choose to enjoy the small beauties and forget the uglies, no matter how big or small it is. Or you can choose to brood over the uglies and forget the most important thing of all. Either way, it's your choice. The only consequence of either choices will be yours and yours alone. No one can feel your misery when you chose the latter. Probably a small number of people can know/see your joy when you chose the former. But you can feel both.

Last Saturday, I went to the wedding of a cousin. On Wednesday, I met the same dude in a sort of a celebration party held at his aunt's house. He was coughing and sneezing and collecting just about every other cold germ there is. Everybody else who were at the wedding were sneezing and coughing, too, and blamed it on exhaustion and the usual heat/cold combo of weather/AC. But the groom told me something that's sticking in my brain until this instant. He said: "I don't know whether I was already sick or not on my wedding day. All I know was that I'd set my brain to be happy, no matter what. Because somebody told me that the brain's state can control the rest of your body. If your brain says you feel like crap, you'll feel like crap. If your brain says you're good to go, you're good to go regardless of the environment."

I realized that when I was at that aunt's house, I hardly felt pain. I was mingling, laughing, chit-chatting with everybody and enjoyed it. I felt alright. The instant I stepped away from the house to get to the doc's (about a block away), the stabbing pain started again. I know the pains were real, and were caused by a physical cause. But still, at the party, I barely noticed it there. My brain said I was happy, and thus, my body was happy. As a result, it didn't need the pain to boost my serotonin level. In conclusion, it validated the groom's words.

It confused me to see people being so negative and in need of a pat on the back all the time. Seriously? Don't you have faith in yourself? If you don't have faith in yourself, who will? If there is one who does, it will only be a matter of time before that person gets tired of being a crutch and ditch you. When that happened, then what? You go emo and.. what? Destroy the world? Sacrifice children and small farm animals to the devil to bring back hitler? What? It's YOUR life. How YOU live it isn't going to affect me much. But it will affect YOU.

To include today's events as illustration: two iconic deaths happened today: Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. Both literally illustrated the flip sides of the coin that is a life.

Fawcett had cancer, and chose to fight because she wanted to live. She wanted to be happy. Sure, the illness eventually overpowered her. But her courage and determination was so incredible it should serve as a reminder that as long as you're alive and *want* to live, you can live. The world may not revolve around you, but you can play with the world around you for as long as you like as long as you're happy with it. The last thing she showed the world was her battle with cancer that took her everywhere. As a result, in her passing, people start to look around to validate their admiration of her.

Jackson, on the other hand, chose the flip side. Not that he wanted to die, but that he wanted to mold the world according to his wants. He changed every given thing upon him to a point where, instead of praising him, just about everyone who witnessed the change scowled. He was not happy to be alive. He wanted control his unhappiness with the one thing he had: money. As a result, barely anyone under 20 would remember that he was a musical genius. The only thing those young people would remember were the child molestation trials.

Both of them made their choices. The only person(s) affected by those public choices were themselves. With them being such public personas, one can easily see the end results by the time of their respective demise. How about your life? Who do you think will see the result of your life when you're gone? What do you think *they* will think of your life and the choices you made?

So your choice. Your call.
  • Listening to: Bon Jovi - Letter to a Friend
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
The medicine seems to work. Or maybe it's because my body has been absent from any kind of unnatural antibiotics for so long -- literally 13 years -- it reacted incredibly promptly to it. Anyway, I feel better. The stabbing pains have lessened considerably from a once-every-5-mins to once every other hour. The quality of the pain itself have decreased incredibly considerably, too, that I was able to sleep without even noticing it.

Today Aqiilah dropped by to pick me up to go see Tari, whose baby is *still* yet to come and was sent to the hospital to be induced. Seeing Aqiilah and all of his cute antics reminds me sorely of the extremely short time we all - me in particular - tend to have on earth. Even if we live to 100, it would still feel like a short time. Or maybe it's just me...

I like living. I like being alive. I even liked having "problems" in life, just for the sake of knowing that; as long as it (the problem) is there, that means I'm still alive. I can do something to that problem and maybe, if I do it right, fix it. I like seeing myself as a rock - either granite or marble: I have to be chiseled gently for a long time before I can produce something of exquisite beauty out of myself. Not diamond, which means I'll have to be cut by myself to gain shape. Not steel, which needs uberhot fire to shape. Just simple, hard, dark, and cold rock. You chisel too harshly: you'll get nothing off it. You chisel too softly: you'll take forever to shape it. But with strokes that are *just* right, you'll get beautiful statues.

Aqiilah, and young people like him, thinks and believes that today is the only day for the rest of his life. And thus, he will live it to the fullest. He doesn't think of tomorrow, doesn't even bother to try to think of tomorrow, let alone next week. But all he does today chisels him little by little to shape him into a full person. When his parents dropped mom and I back from the hospital, he didn't want us to go. He wanted to drop by our house to play some more, to spend more time with mom and me. He didn't care that we'll see each other again tomorrow to wait for Tari's baby. He wanted to play *now*. Because he's in the mood to play *now*. He didn't throw a tantrum, though, because we managed to trick him by dropping by our house (anyway) for like, five minutes. He went home happy. I bet he would fall asleep on the drive to his home and probably won't remember any of today's miseries. But he will remember that he had fun at our home.

My highschool friends wondered why I don't like reunions. Here's why: highschool is *not* a time I would like to revisit. While it's far from traumatic, it's not really a time I liked to remember. The fun times were sparse. The rest were just routines. Nothing special. Nothing worth reminiscing about. That's why I don't like reunions. Especially highschool ones. Face it, folks, after 15 years, you ALL got damn fat - and it's about the only thing you all can show off, really. The fact that *today*, you know of the wonders of steaks while back then, you've had nothing but tempeh for meals. You're going to places I've *been* to, and you can't impress me much. So why bother?

Anyhow, back to my illness. I forgot if the doc told me to eat the capsules for 3 days or a week. Eh.
  • Listening to: Bon Jovi - Letter to a Friend
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
Uh. Yeah. Here comes the time when one questions one's mortality. Big tiem.

For the past three days I've been having stomach aches. Not the single-worded type of stomach disturbances, mind. But the kind that make you wonder wtf is in there/not-when-it-should. At every-other five/ten minutes, my lower-right abdomen would feel as if somebody stabbed it with a blunt object. The pain would disappear within ten-fifteen seconds. It's not much - not like it's debilitating or anything of sort - but it's annoying. I could feel the pain in my sleep - literally. And I don't like the probable cause: appendicitis. To remove my appendix means I would have to spend a small fortune on hospitals et al. For one without even a microscopic fortune, it means a lot.

Day one, I was heatstroke-ing. I drove my mom and aunt to a wedding that was located on a rather dinghy "ballroom" (ugh, seriously. It was a hut transformed to a wedding hall). The day was hot and the venue's AC left little to be desired. We got there at around 12.30 and left at 13.00. The parked cars were literal ovens - I'd left a flask of coffee in there and it was still warm when I got back to the car. The sun was prolly playing hopscotch with the earth and it was the nearest it could get to the earth's surface. It was hot - and that was an understatement of the century. I knew I heatstroked when my head was throbbing nastily and the AC did little to console me. Needless to say, we got home in quite a record time.

The misery sort of begun later that day. After trying to nap unsuccessfully thanks to a virtually impotent AC (of mine), I woke - still - with throbbing head, *and* diarrhea. I was drinking in gallons and it all just flush right though me. Nasty, I know. But that's how it goes. To add to the injury, I was still coughing from the cold I've caught earlier last week. The diarrhea wasn't so bad - only about 3-5 times.

Then the stomach aches started. At first I thought it was connected to the diarrhea. But after sitting on the loo several times with nothing coming out, I rethought it. When it continued on day two and the diarrhea practically stopped, I was.. well.. apprehensive. Okay, fine, I was scared.

So today, I went to the doctor's house. My doc is the doc who'd seen me since I was wee. I daresay he know more of my body than I do. But the last time I actually went to see him (professionally) was.. well, in 1996. >.> But then again, I'd never been ill since then. The problem was that back then, I'd been so ill I could barely stand up. I had pre-typhoid, was quite anorexic, and had lost 22 lbs in 6 weeks. Anyway, he commented that unless I couldn't get up, I prolly won't go see him professionally. He was right. Not that I'm afraid of doctors. It's just.. well, y'know, money (lack thereof) + illness = does not compute.

Anyway. He gave me some antibiotics, said that there's got to be some sort of infection (which he prolly can't totally determine unless I go through a battery of [uberexpensive] tests and whatnot) - either on my appendix or ovary - neither of which I'd like to be infected with anything.

Hopefully, everything will be better. Right now, I still have them pains on random basis. I've only taken one antibiotic pill, I'll be taking another in 4 hrs. I'll be okay real soon.

Yeah, I'm optimistic. I'm also shutting up my realistic brain right now and keep telling myself that I'll be alright.

On a happier note: ..well, there isn't any yet. They'll be inducing my grandnephew tomorrow - if he's not coming out by then, either, they'll pick him up through a C-section.
  • Listening to: Bon Jovi - Letter to a Friend
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
I think people who insists on NOT following the interwebz's updates and THEN whine about impersonators are.. well, stupid whiners and should stay off the 'webz. You see, I can live with the argument "I'm too busy to maintain a facebook/twitter/myspace/whathaveyousdotcom/etcdotnet!" Fine, I know that not everybody have the luxury of cable or random free wifi at random malls/restaurants/places like here. But for the love of the interwebz gods, what, then, gives you the right to whine when somebody else use your name? Haven't we resolved that, with 6 billion people on earth, the chances that your name is totally, unbelievably, absolutely unique is only.. what, 1 in every million? - if you're lucky?

My SN is outlawserenade. I've used it since 1998. Since then, I've logged and registered the name at just about every popular user-based sites: yahoo, hotmail/MSN, google, blogging/journal sites, and so on. Do I use them all? The first three are IM-based. I'll add you if I previously know who you are from sites I frequented. If not, you're duly in my block list. Journal sites? Only a few. The rest are simply to retain my name. You won't believe how many IMs/e-mails I've got asking me to release the name to them. My answer is, and will always be, NOT IN THIS LIFETIME KTHXBAI.

And now, with the increasing popularity of interwebz 2.0, where users can update anything and everything with such ease on regular basis, I registered even more outlawserenade's on a plethora of social networking sites. Do I update them on regular basis? Not all, definitely. I've things to do online AND offline that don't include messing around with random social networking sites. However, though, if you see outlawserenade with the above icon, it's guaranteed to be me. Except on blip.fm because I put my babypic on it. Come to think of it, I think I'll put the logo again, anyway. Or maybe not, since I *did* put the logo on my babypic, after all.

Anyhow.

I just barely managed to escape the oh-so-epic 15 years reunion of my highschool's class of 94. Why? I don't like reunions. Why don't I like reunions? Because I DON'T LIKE THE DAMN THING! I do NOT want to attend one, and now - hopefully - I've escaped them all: elementary, Jr. High, and Sr. High. Alleluia! No more! Not at least for another 10 years, I hope. Do I regret not going to any of them? PFFFFFT Not in this lifetime, kthx. I've better things to do with my life. Like, sleep and catching up with it to maintain my health. It totally amused me to see the attendees all alternating statuses between: "it was fun to meet y'all again yesterday!" and "omg the reunion was exhausting." Ha.

I need to make invoices. And wait for Rino 2.0. He should arrive in a couple of days.
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
Hypothetical situation: A person declared: "z0mg I hate you because you're different and I think you and your children should die and be stewed like the aforementioned rabbit mentioned by Serenade! WTF if you weren't different, you wouldn't have been special to begin with and therefore, I can rule above you and make you my slave!"

Okay, maybe if I'd been the one saying the above, using those exact words, people would laugh and think I'm trying out for stand-up comedies. But really, a person just pronounced the above - in a more specific details than my over-generalized one - on teH interwebz.

Result of the above: People flooded the said announcement saying the general conclusion of: "Wow, you're such an intolerant little bitch." and its derivatives, superlatives, and probably a little laxative thrown in there somewhere.

That, however, would not have amused me as much if the said antagonist did not follow up her rant with: "gee, you people are so mean and such bullies and I'm like, totally depressed now because you have tolerance and/or acceptance upon others who aren't as pious and religious as I am."

Ohay, can we add hypocrite to the intolerant tag plz?

Being different; be it in shape, color, preference, origin, culture, and so on and so forth - is what made human race interesting. It's what allowed the human race to evolve (and sometimes even revolve) and maintain its dominance over the world. Truthfully, I'm still not quite sure whether it's a good or bad thing (I reckon the whales and sharks and most wild animals think it's a bad thing. But hey, I ain't being eaten by them, so that should mean something).

Still, the differences and the eventual tolerance AND acceptance are what allowed us to be a community, and thus allow the community to produce such defenses/protection against possible danger. One individual cannot build the Great Wall (nevermind the history of it - I can't think of other examples :p It *was* built to protect the people of China from the Mongolians, supposedly.). It takes a great number of people to build an airplane, a car, a weapon, even a house. Especially in present day and age.

Anyway, of the hypocrisy. Isn't it funny how someone who once ranted so vitriolical and viciously against those who are different claiming to be the victim of an illness that is MORE LIKELY to be experienced by "the differents."? Shouldn't the "differents" now have the right to say: "Wow, so you're liek, depressed or summat. Well whaddya know, SO AM I! MY cause was people like YOU who demanded me to change the color of my skin! What's YOUR excuse?"

Okay. Enough rant on stupidity. It's the interwebz, serenade. Hypocrites are a-plenty. Move on to other things already.

Heard rumors that JBJ may want to run for Mayor/Governor of NJ. Am still undecided on whether it's a good thing or a bad thing. But hey, if LA can have the Governator, why can't NJ have Jon "connors" Bon Jovi? :lmao:
  • Listening to: Welcome to Wherever You Are - Bon Jovi
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
So yes, like I've told my twitterfriends & fbfriends, my day started with a whodunit-type occurrence. It eventually resulted with my wondering if God is taking my love for whodunits too seriously and was pulling a prank on me.
    
# Just saw a rabbit on My roof. No joke. Pics after I'm conscious. <-- some time around 5.30-6.00 a.m., I think.
# twitpic.com/67u82 - Rabbit on the hot tin roof.
# twitpic.com/67ucl - srsly. It's a rabbit.

I was rudely awakened by what sounds like footsteps on my roof - right on top of my room. I could tell right away that it wasn't a cat, not even a cat jumping about catching mice or whatever cats do when they jump about. I was paranoid, obviously. The housing complex I live in nowadays bordered with a kind of a slum and my house is located on the "posh"-er area. There could be burglars! Although if I'd been fully conscious, I'd wonder what burglar would be stupid enough to burgle at the crack of dawn. But hey, I wasn't conscious.

And therefore, I walked out of the backdoor with a VERY large knife in my hand. I figured that if that burglar would try to run away, I can duly utilize my pitching skills to toss the knife at him. Better yet, if he'd tried to mess with my car, I can practice my fruit-carving skills on his head. Seriously. I've yet to be called peevish and I literally fear no man. I have five older male cousins and one younger brother and am skilled in self-defense. I'm also a little insane and very protective of my belongings, or lack thereof. But anyway.

At the backyard, the roof's straight edge provided me no sight of the top of it. Added with the fact that it's about 10' high and I'm only half of it, I could see nothing. Therefore, I climbed on the bumper of my jeep. Just as I straightened up, this met my glare.

I think I'd blinked. Like, several hundred times.

Then my consciousness - or muse, or insanity - kicked in and I figured that if I don't capture it in some way, either physically or pictorially, no one would believe me. Given the fact that everybody seems to know my sleeping hours (3 a.m. onward) and the time of the event, they'll prolly end up saying I was dreaming. I therefore run back to the house and get my camera. The first pic above was taken from the hood of my jeep, which I'd needed to climb to get the damn camera over the roof for better angle. The second was after I managed to find good footing (that is, so I won't fall over or crack the jeep's hood), alas, the bunny isn't a good model. It moved. Hence the blurriness of the pic. Well, I ain't no good photo-taker to begin with.. but you got the point.

How? Why? What? Who?

Well, turned out that my next door neighbor had installed a rabbit house on *their* balcony. That's not the worst, mind. The balcony was built adjacent to my roof. Wait, it gets better: There is a nice large hole on the wires that is the rabbit house's wall - right on the wall facing my roof.

Thus the mystery of the footsteps on my roof.

My Chinese horoscope is rabbit. But I swear if that thing wake me up at 5 a.m. again, I will capture it and stew it. I can go cannibal if I want to. *harrumphs*

Next is the visit to the dentist. I had three holes (Yes, children, I know it's called cavities. But cavities don't go well with my storytelling method). All eventually duly fixed and filled. But not without a lot of apprehension.

The thing is that I actually have no fear of dentists. Being born with a lot of fat and little of calcium, I've been familiarized with dentists since I first lost my first babytooth. Actually, one of the fillings was made about 25 years ago - using those black, ugly, lead amalgams. I had a tooth pulled before I was 15, and another one pulled a decade later (two years ago, actually, last wisdom tooth). So I literally have no problem with the drills whirring in my mouth.

So what's the apprehension, then?

Money, ladies and gentlemen. That sweet digits that is the source of all evil, yet make the world go 'round. I had none to spare. Above the dental matters, I had to pay my car's taxes. So to say I've a noose 'round my neck when it comes to monetary matters would be the understatement of the century.

But hey, God loves me. I know. I still have some invoices to collect and two upcoming projects with one confirmed. I can still live happily, connected-ly, for the next several months. =) Afterward, I still have other invoices to collect. Still, though, I won't mind having MOAR invoices to collect..

s'all for today, folks!

Look, ma! No misspellings other than the deliberate ones!

..and the song-choice still fits. Ha.
  • Listening to: Story of My Life - Bon Jovi
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
And I got amused/disgusted easily with supposedly "seereeous" journals that is written like a 2nd grade essay.

This kid is 18. Thank goodness she has proper collection of vocabs and the knowledge to use which where. She discussed Bear vs. Bare.

For info, americans, your demanded rights to *bare* arms just violated your law of prohibiting you to display arms in public. Congratulations, you've just rendered your safety obsolete.

What amused me more was these kinds of remarks:
isee get your point but if america was to ever go into war and some country tryed to attack the citizens in anyway they be prepared and be able to defend them selfs the government can defend everyone just saying


Mmmyea.. the makers of keyboards created the goodies that are the spacebars, periods, commas, and other punctuation marks *separated* from the alphabet for a reason: so idiots won't have to look too hard for them. One of the few things I actually remembers from my High School Bahasa lessons was: if a sentence has more than 20 words, re-read it to prevent redundancy and wordiness. I'm not even going to touch the grammar on that one. Dyslexia is something that is not laughable, but treatable. Stupidity is just that.

On another issue, I've a migraine and actually got woken up from it. I'll prolly get back to sleep in a few hours.

Today is Rino's birthday - he is 27. I still can't believe that 27 years ago, I was holding him for the first time and squealed in dismay when he pooped on me. In diapers, nonetheless, but still - I never had any babies pooped on me before and I was quite appalled. And today, he is waiting for the arrival of *his* first child. God, I feel positively ancient.

Have just downloaded Bon Jovi's Sessions From The Vault - an 11 CDs demo from last century. :lol: Nearly literally last century. Just one more CD to download and I'm off to sleep, methink. Panadol first and then bed. Gawd my head hurts.
  • Listening to: Story of My Life - Bon Jovi
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
itu serenade yg gw kenal ....perempuan tegar yg pernah gw kenal seumur hidup gw selain my emak


Thranslation: That's the serenade I know, the toughest woman I've ever known in my entire life next to my mother.

The above was from my highschool BFF - one I have not met for 20 years. She thinks I'm a superwoman. Sure, back then, I used to defend her from bullies and bitches and perverts.. I was (am, hopefully) physically tough. Hey, growing up with 5 older male cousins and one younger brother tend to do that to you..

So why do I feel like being chiseled away, bits by large bits, with a jackhammer?

Oh well, maybe it's just me..

Anyway, today? I did nothing but sleep. Yay me. And finding out that streaming tv on saturday/holiday nights sucks monkeys' balls because everybody and their grandmothers are online and then poke their grandmothers' neighbors to get online, too. Gah. Get a life, people. The interwebz is muH turf, yo.

Insanity and wisdom are overrated. I'd rather be wack and dumb sometimes. People let those of the latter categories get away with stupid. I reckon if I do or say something stupid, people would be damn shocked.

On another issue: I fucking hate crab-in-a-bucket syndrome. Hey, if you're gonna drown, don't take me along, eh? If you want to stay stupid and out of the loop for the rest of your life, go on, just don't take me along and pretend you're the "coolest thing evaH" just because the total amount of years you've been living. Shit, I'm 33 turning 34. And I would *still* ask my 27 years old nephew or even my 18 years old for advice on things I don't know. I didn't know shit about Kidzania, and thus I asked my SEVEN years old niece about it. I got enlightened, amused, and that's all. The next time a friend talked about Kidzania, I didn't just go :| . I actually have an idea what they're talking about - in spite the fact I've yet to have a child who can utilize Kidzania (it's a place for kids, btw, google it if you want to). I let my *mother* in on facebook, told her about it being available on cellphones and not just blackberries, and she pwnd her friends - *much* younger friends with it. A lot of mom's (much younger) friends can't even operate a PC, let alone a BB. My mother, at 64, is smarter than her 46 years old friend. How's that for a last laugh?

And for lemming-ism? Well, sorry, I was there before everybody *else* did. If you want to think I'm a lemming, well, I'm actually the lemminghead. People follow *me*. I don't follow things I don't think is interesting.

Speaking of which, there are several places I need to create an account for - just to keep my name in. Plurk, friendfeed, orkut.. Will I use them? Prolly, if they're beneficial to me. If you find outlawserenade in there, granted, it's my account and just hit me up.
  • Listening to: Lost Highway - Bon Jovi
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
I should prolly title all my journal posts with that. Haha.

Today! What have I done today that constitutes as productive, anyway?

Oh, right. I went to the baking equipment shop and the supermarket beforehand - where I'd bought my nasal spray. Dumb shiz of the day: The salesgirl asking a supervisor: "Is this the drop kind or spray kind, ma'am?" while trying to look up the item's barcode number in her computer. And I'm not joking. She actually said: "ini yang drop atau yang spray, bu?" -- even if only Siew can understand that, she can attest to you that I wasn't making it up.

Er.. it said it's a nasal spray on the box. So unless the box was lying...

Anyway.

The few hours beforehand would've been more interesting. Apparently, Aya's mentor think that the piece I've written (on *her* dissertation on Dorian Gray) is of an essay format. I was rather pissed - Aya had asked for a "Technical Writing" format, and thus, I've made a Technical Writing. But her mentor said that my writing was "Essay" - therefore, I do what everybody else would do: Get a second opinion.

My second opinion happened to be from somebody who's taking his BA in Ed. - just like Aya. And is of an actual english-speaking country (never mind that Canada is actually a bilingual country..). *HE* said that the one I made was too technical to be an essay ("you'll have to add a lot more sentiments and a large pile of bullshat to turn that to an essay," - not exact quote, but you get the point). Imagine his surprise when I said that a *mentor* said it was an essay.. Oy vey. Granted, we had a field day dissing that mentor.

Regardless, I put in two more pages of bullshat in there. She wants an essay-looking-technical writing? You got it. Freestyle is my forte, y'all. Why do you think I have so many journals? :p

Bug catching!

The bug in Yann's site, I reckon, came from IE. The site seriously looked fine when viewed in FF *and* opera. Nonetheless, the bugs have to go. I seriously canNOT expect everybody to have FF and/or Opera, no? Some people actually still have faith in Microsoft.. *hands out bucket for gags*

Next on..

Dom DeLuise is dead. RIP Don. He was one hell of a funnyman. But at 75, I'd say he'd copped quite a large experience and fun in his life. <3

Sentiments of the day: Apparently, there's a large number of my former HSmates who'd only been introduced to the wonders that is alcohol.. I seriously had fun watching the FB statuses going: "I'mma booze out tonight!" or "omg I needz vodka to survive.." lawl. Dude.. where the fcuk were you people twelve years ago when I partied with five bottles of tequila, vodka, jacks and champagne (I know there's only 4.. there was a two-bottles of something that I can't remember)? I nearly end up with liver failure back then, and not even a hint of buzz.. damn.

Anyway, but hey - I'm alive now. *shrugs* I can do things I *haven't* done before. And good GAWD *why* are you people only trying to catch up with ish I *have* done?

Kiki just sent me a 9 pages of contract to translate. YUM! Fastcash! Killed it in three hours. The freestyle writing for Aya will have to wait. Can't think of Dorian Gray and a house's Lease terms at the same time.

Watching House, M.D. make hypochondriacs happy. Speaking of House, M.D., I never realized that my beloved character *is* alike to Hugh Laurie's character.. :( The only difference being: if my character had been Dr. House, he wouldn't have been so.. well, controversial? Lovable? Hateable? I think my Shark is too perfect - he's got a nice set of blonde hair and schmex oozing out of every pore of his body and all.. *wipes drools off keyboard*

Um. Yeah, well, 'nuff for today, I think.
  • Listening to: chicken crowing outside, it's 5.25 a.m.
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
Cutting off "dead" friends and acquaintances off feels good. It's something I should've done *years* ago. Some things are just meant to be left as they were - dead and buried. Especially things that are dirt-filled. Not just by analogy, if it's filled with dirt, it should be either cleaned up or dumped and replaced.

Several days ago I added a former classmate in FB who was an asshole with a load of poop contained. My friendly, naive right-brain hemisphere said: "Hey, after 20+ years, what are the odds that the person should remain the same? Besides, a reunion is coming up and some good/business/etc can be had from therein!" and thus, the "friend" add. Left-brain hemisphere was screaming: "Shit, woman! Don't you remember how *hurt* you were back then? How this loser have hurt you deliberately and intentionally just to try to pwn you?" -- I must've been in a good mood, because I ignored logic and followed sentiments.

Again, logic is doing a triumphant dance right now on how right it turned out to be. It's amazing how some people are so keen on belittling, insulting, hurting, and make you feel as if you're a piece of shit when - in reality - they're the cow's dung and was trying to make the feces fly to your face.

I was calm throughout the "right, you were never worthy" crap. I know myself way, waaaay better than anybody else. I know the journey I've taken. I know the fights I've fought (and win). I know how far I can go before changing direction, without giving up. I know. This person obviously doesn't.

So via the wonder that is "remove from friend" button, I cut the person off. I did ponder about the option of simply hiding the friend feed. But I thought better of it. What benefit can I get from those who are simply hell-bent to hurt me? I know now, though, the reasons why: I *am* better than the person ever was, or ever will be.

I tweeted about this earlier and Dianne asked about catching bug bites. I replied with: "a little, but it felt good!" And in reality, it did. The bug bites begun when the friend-add button was hit. And that's all it were: bug bites. Put a little ointment on 'em, and they'll heal before you can say "Vaya con diablos, pero la mierda!"

Continuing with the analogy, I find it amusing how there are many people who are not willing to cut off the dead branches out of their own trees. Perhaps it's the fear of... what? Losing? Lacking largeness? I don't get it. From my logical point of view, dead branches are just that: dead branches. They sap the much-needed energy and space out of you without really becoming anything beneficial. Instead of cultivating (even a parasitic) beauty like an orchid, you chose to let the dead branches stay. Trees in Jakarta's street have proven this analogy to be correct to the tee: trees with many a-dead branches look large, but let a strong wind huff by them, and they'll fall with a mighty bang. Some even take lives or valuable properties. Had the park services cut off the branches beforehand, it would not have caused so much damage. But the excuse was always: "it provides shades!"

But what are you shading? Beautifully trimmed trees can provide shades *and* lives -- continuous benefit. When it finally dies, it will be fondly remembered instead of dreadfully remorsed.

Why can't -- won't -- you be a beautifully trimmed trees? Jakarta's roadside trees can't trim themselves, granted. But you can. The million-bucks question remains: Will you?
  • Listening to: people munching @ my restaurant city game
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
Facebook Family

Daughter 1: (as it says)
Mom: "Go pray the night prayer beforehand, darling!!!"
Daughter 2: "Already in blankets mom, I'll pray the dawn prayer later, okay.."


Oy vey, la extended familia..

La familia - extended ones, that is - have a load of stories, just like every other side of la familia..

My tablet is finally dead. Well, the optimist in me said it's not *totally* dead - it still blinks, and sometimes it still responds to the pen's touch (it lights up when the pen touches it). Just the cable/USB head that's troubled. Still, I died a little inside.

The person I bitched about the other day was lamenting: "why does life bring so much problem..?" etc etc. I'm so damn tempted to reply: "Compared to what? Death? Well, let's put it this way: when you're dead, you sure as all hell won't have any more problems!" And/or make her shove it up her ass higher. Wow, selfish much, yes?

I admit, I'm not the type of person who'd air out my oh-so-many problems - except for money, that is. I reckon everyone have money problems - or lack thereof.. :p I have problems, sure. I have problems that, if I recite them, it'll make your skin crawl and wonder why I'm still here, typing of my oh-so-obviously-joyous life. I don't like oversharing and have people say things like: "oh, poor you..." or the likes. If I have a problem, I expect it to be solvable. And if it's solvable, it's - therefore - not much of a problem anymore. And thus is not worth whining about. If I see people talking about their problems, the last thing I'd do is to say "oh, poor you..." and the likes. I'd offer solutions from my point of view. If you can utilize one of them, good for you. If you don't, hey, at least I tried.

I like facebook for the instanews it brings. I see some people from, say, central jakarta saying things like: "omg it rains cats and dogs!" and a few minutes later people 'round south/east/west/north jakarta would reply with either: "oh hey, thanks for the news! I can now avoid the area!" or "well, it's dry as sand right here.." I can relay the news around and benefit others - like u. Nuky whose job is literally on the road and often can't know the weather forecast in his destination. A peek to my FB status have helped him a number of times.

Or when people are being less than cryptic; I have people going: "where can I find so-and-so?" or "how's the road like at [street/area name here]" or even a simple: "I need to vent about my boss/coworker/spouse/kids!" -- I'm game. Or like the above: "I'm going to bed! Nighty!" or the silly: "70% sale @ Metro todai!!!1!" Love those kind of tidbits. But a cryptic: "Why me, God?" or "My life is soooOoOO hArD!!!1" make me roll my eyes. What if God, just for once, replies: "Why not you, earthling?" -- what would you say? Or about the hard life, compared to what?

Anyway.

Had a meeting with u. Gita today re: the two-touch website. I told her about the site can't be opened from abroad (UK, US). Then I told her I'll make some tutorials on.. well, the how-to's in operating the site, basically. It feels silly, but I have to hold on to my irreversible principal of: "Never assume people have brain," which has yet to fail me. :lol:

Hopefully I'll get some kind of payment before this weekend.. :upset:
  • Listening to: I'll Sleep When I'm Dead - Bon Jovi
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
Ranting over and over about one SUBJECT is one thing - sometimes even takes multiple rants to make certain subject be heard, acknowledged, and maybe even understood. Ranting about one PERSON is vindictive. What is it, jealousy that the one person is living a life everyone is dreaming of? Primal male jealousy? Growing old is one thing. Growing up is something male humans seem to be unable to do - especially against those who are visibly better.

The person I ranted at (and sent the letter to) the above about lost to the better man, obviously. Just like everybody else of the "bubblegum pop" era lost against Hanson - better men, better talent, better life.

Bon Jovi has been a part of my life for 25 years. I don't know the man Jon Bon Jovi, obviously. But from the people who does, I know that the said people have been working *for* him for more than a decade. I'm far from blind from the almighty Non Disclosure agreement. But it's human nature that when one is butthurt, one tend to forget all legalities and blurt out something nasty that the (subject of) NDA doesn't even give a damn at. Nothing. Nada. Linkin Park had interviewers bitching at them. Jon Bon Jovi? None. Not *one* interviewer passed a sour note on the man nor the band when it comes to the music. Of his "acting"? The "reviewers" merely said: "it left little to be desired, but hey, it sells the movie." I shrugged, he ain't no actor. Peers? Zilch. Not even a "we're better than Bon Jovi" kind of snipe.

Why is that?

Maybe the man JBJ is *real*. Simple, exciting, fun man whom everyone feels good to be around. Talent, lifestyle, faith - the human side of the person that is JBJ - apparently, are real. The man is no saint, far from it. But he is nowhere being a rebel without a clause, either. He's just a man who looks nice, is nice, and play it nice.

"Bon Jovi is a joke except to fans." Well, *that* came from someone who sing hosannas about the importance of *HAVING DIE-HARD FANS*. Shit, Bon Jovi may not matter much to those who aren't fans. But the band that is Bon Jovi has more than a million die-hards (yes, I'm rounding it down way, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay down low). Bon Jovi has been the *only* band who can FILL UP an entire *stadium* for the *entire* tour leg for the past three years. Why? Because they *matters* to the FANS. And because, shit, there are MANY who are their fans. If the fans' opinion of a band doesn't matter, then HELLO HYPOCRITE, what about all those gospels you sing about "having fans who believe, so the fans can tell their peers about you/your band/your music"?

I'm pissed. I tried rolling my eyes at the blatant, politician-like hypocrisy, and failed. Maybe because I was able to see the reality behind the so-called snipey snide remarks against Bon Jovi. The aboveperson is as old as Jon, ugly, has mediocre "success" at best, no kids, no family, nothing. I finally realized that the rant isn't about the *system*, isn't about the "powers-that-be" that "ripped off fans." It's more of a vindictive nature against the man that is Jon Bon Jovi.

Seriously, when I say "Bon Jovi", how many of you think of Richie, David, Tico or Hugh? Or even know about Alec? Not even a fraction, I bet. How many of you know that - aside of the songs of his solo albums - he and Richie had been dubbed as the lennon-mccartney of this generation simply by the sheer number of songs they've written together? Not many, I guess.

So yes, when the above person rants about "Bon Jovi", I'm willing to bet my life that it's Jon he's thinking about. The glory, success, love, life that Jon has. Oh, let's not forget the hair. And that made the abovementioned person a failure to me. A HUMONGOUS failure. Just like people who are still saying "oh, Hanson? The little kids' band?" Yes, the little kids' band who is now a grown men's band who'd stopped me from committing the ultimate sin of finishing myself off. The band that, along with Bon Jovi, gave me reasons to live and be alive.

Superficiality + hypocriticism = fail at life.

On a non-pissy note: I finished both sites - Yann's and the client's ; sent off a proposal, and started on my company's site's revision. That is, by making a vectorized design using vexel. The problem started when I realized that vexeling limits what vectoring can do for me, and then finding out that my Illustrator's been uninstalled, *and* that I can't find the damn installer CD. Bleh. So now I have to wait for torrent to finish downloading that ish.

Move on, I have this friend who keep saying: "oh, I *so* need to drop by your place and like, have a *talk* with you! I've *so* many things to talk about..." yadda yadda. And never showed up. I actually didn't think about this until today. Yesterday the said friend made the above claim yet once again. And then I made a lighthearted remark - a joke, if you will - on her professional ability (or lack thereof). And today she's a no-show. Not that I cared that she's a no-show, really, I have work to do today. But it just hit me: she's scared. All she wanted was somebody to listen to her sob story, and I was giving her ways out of the sobs.

eh?

If you have a problem, wouldn't you want somebody to figure it out together with you and find you a way out?

No? Then do us both a huge favor and don't come to me. I don't give pep talks. Your life is shite? Well, until you've buried your only brother, father, and uncle all within three consecutive months of each other, you have nothing on me. Nothing at all. I've lived through it, I've faced my demons and send them back to hell, I'm surviving, I'm alive and living. I may not have much, but I know when and how much I should be grateful of, and what I'm supposed to do to *be* alive. And collecting pep talks is not one of it.

S'all.
  • Listening to: Dry County - Bon Jovi
  • Reading: nothing
  • Watching: Kick Andy
  • Drinking: coffee
Okay. So right now, I'm doing some finishing touches on a site I've been working on for the past week (or two, interspersing translation work in between). From the meeting I had yesterday, it looks like I'll be working on another website, *plus* interface design (prettifying their software's interface, that is). On top of those two, today I had an offer of translating and interpreting job from a colleague of a (translation) client of mine. Sounds great, yeah?

Not if the latter is an in-house kind of work and the former doesn't look like a company that has caught up with time just yet (they have 256M RAM for their work PC in spite of it having an LCD monitor and still use IE and can't figure out how to connect FF to the 'net. I changed the proxy a tad and it connected to interwebs just fine. Wonder why..).

Anyway, I don't think I want to be out of the house for a job, after all. I sure ain't looking forward to be out of the security of my sweetie pie cable connection to the interpreting job. It "guaranteed that it'll bring you out of town etc etc and liaise with local authorities.." Uhm.. I don't think so. That was the keyword that repelled me, literally: "local authorities." Me and "local authorities"? In one sentence? Does not compute. Nope, it doesn't. The only thing I'd like to do to a "local authority" is to shoot them on the balls with a bazooka with durian bullets.

Speaking of the meeting yesterday, something amusing happened. I was showing them the sites I've made (live, since I've not made a portfolio site, yet) and among which, I showed them yann's site (sorry, dearie, I know it's not complete yet. But they wanted to see layouts) and kiki's JDM site, and they were like: "whoa! That's neat!" I felt good. I felt like something I've done *did* make an impression to people.

The funny thing was when we were discussing the fields/contents they may need/want in their site, they wanted something to show off their client and whatnot. Eventually, they decided on a testimonial from their client. I almost chuckled. I'd only showed them sites like, in passing - two to five seconds tops: just go in, scroll the whole layout, show some of the widgets I'd placed/rigged, and moved on to the next site.

Well, the moral of this story, kids, is that sometimes something you think is plain, simple, or maybe even lame - *can* be impressive to others. I didn't think the sites I've made are amazingly sophisticated - be it layout- or widgets/plugins-wise. If I have to compare it to the sites of some people I've visited throughout these years, I think mine are overly simple. But those I've showed those sites to seemed impressed enough. So.. yeah, something *you* made that you didn't think as impressive can be something amazing for somebody else.

Move on from the incessant rambling, plz.

I'm watching Kick Andy - an "oprah-like" talkshow hosted by a former newspaper reporter/senior editor. Today's show has many guests who are disabled, yet are fighters (and not simply "beggars"). One of the guests is a former radio DJ, presenter, MC, etc named Pepeng. He has Multiple Sclerosis. Yet his life philosophy is something I would really love to live by: One shouldn't die before one is dead.

If you wonder why I keep wanting to learn a lot of things, I can tell you that the above philosophy is the very thing that encouraged me to keep on going. I have no degree. I have no paperwork of my intelligence. The only thing I can show off is the result of my handiwork. However, that handiwork can be done by others. The only way I can keep on making a living out of it is by advancing the result of my handiwork up to a point where; when you reach the level I'm in today, I'd have advanced to the next ten levels. To do that, I'll need to learn more and more from just about everything and everywhere. To optimize my learning, I'll need others with the same knowledge so I can compare my knowledge with yours. Thus I never hesitate to share my knowledge. My philosophy about this is: if you don't know what I know, how can I better myself by leveling what I know with what you know?

I don't know my intellectual limits. I don't know how much I can store in my brain and I'm definitely not looking forward to find the limits. All I care about is that as long as I can fill it in with something, I should.
  • Listening to: Superman - Five for Fighting
  • Reading: nothing
  • Watching: Kick Andy
  • Drinking: coffee
..and picture your hands in mine..

I forgot what I was gonna blog about. Or blag, rather. Ha.

Oh wait, I remember.

Last night (or this morning), I was chatting with my very own Christopher Robbins. I told him of my lastest "achievement" in the fangirl world while typing chapter two of Aya's thesis of Dorian Gray. He said: "don't be like someone I know and strut around looking upwards,"

That struck me pretty deep, really. I wish I won't be a power-hungry kind of person. I'm enough of a snob as it is when it comes to literal life, I don't have to have virtual powers to even be more of a snob. I like having powers. I like to be able to do something when time calls for it. I like to be able to give definitive answers when anyone asks. I like to know that the (higher) powers-that-be trusts me enough to hand me a certain power in which I can - not only make a difference, but also curb those trying to make unnecessary differences and/or damages. But still, I'm not jaded enough to think that I would need to kiss ass and/or be all supersweet to do my job. I'm a firm believer of "Treat others as you want to be treated."

Speaking of which, I keep forgetting to note about the chat I had with Ryu of SOB. Streaming chat is fun. I'd put out the address/notice, but the dude played his unreleased album and might generate some friction with the industry peoples. So.. no offense nor selfishness, I just don't want him to get any trouble. I did, though, tell those I think would be interested in chatting with him. And hear him calling me his "indonesian wife" live on streaming screen. :lol:

'S'all for fun, folks. He said that in front of his real-life wife. He also asked if I'd lived in the US or whatever because my english seems to be americanized. He said that his wife's grandpa, who's from indonesia and has been living in the US for ages, don't speak as fluent as I do. Well.. era-of-living makes a huge difference, I think. I doubt that they have english courses back then.. :lol:

Alright, I should be off. Meeting in about an hour. Am hungry, therefore, I shall go eat beforehand.
  • Listening to: A Whole Lotta Leaving - Bon Jovi
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
but then I would be ignoring my work. Heh.

Anyway, tomorrow will be another long day, prolly. Can't tell what yet, I might jinx it.

Newsflash from The Life: b. denny's house was broken in yesterday. I'm yet to know/find out what's missing. Mother's going there tomorrow with mb. Yanti to find out/sympathize/whatever. So, we'll see.

Other than that, seems like my cms-of-choice is starting to be used by many people. Although most people are still using it simply to blog and not totally mutilating it like I do *cough*. It.. unnerved me a bit. If a kid can optimize such coding to accommodate her needs, shouldn't I advance myself to them codes to a point where people would just go: "*GASP!* YOU made THAT?!?" If I should... then, dear GOD I don't think my brain is up to it..

Move on.

Am still pimp-in' site No. 1 I'm working on. The only thing I can't (and won't) do is to make a flash menu. With that amount of pay, a flash menu is definitely not included. Cannot be included - otherwise I'd be bitched at by everybody else doing this work I'm doing.

On the monetary side, the client whose payment is always late/delayed has paid - after my manager a.k.a mamager made several *very* stern calls to her. *Snickerfits*. One payment is done, the next one is once I finish uploading all these photos to the site and figure out how to include their lameass, .pub-based newsletters into the site. And then write the tutorial. I've written them, actually. By hand, too.. :noes: Mother can type 'em later and then I can simply copy/pasta them into the screencaps.

There goes my oh-so-exciting work life! Yay.

Speaking of work, a friend of mine linked a blog calling people out to "turn to entrepreneurship after you lost your job!" I snickered. That blog was directed to indonesians, obviously. And thus I snickered because, well... WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU PEOPLE BEEN ALL THESE TIMES!!!1one. I've been an entrepreneur for the past seven years. And now you losers want to swim in MY pond?!? The NERVE!

*brushes n00bs off shoulders*
  • Listening to: It's My Life - Bon Jovi
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee
I know. I tend to make titles sound less exciting than the content. Should fix that, somehow... Catchy, maybe even pornographic titles seem to make better selling point at times.

Anyway.

Full week. And by full, I mean FULL with a capital groan. No complaints on the monetary side, though. I had:

three translations going on, all with pressing deadlines;
one term paper's proposal - in which I need to type down the general summary without revealing too much of the thesis, the research method (excluding St. Google and/or St. Wiki), objective of the study, and problems (still have no idea what "problems" supposed to be.. a term paper is basically a free-style writing-slash-review to me.. And this ought to be my review of The Picture of Dorian Gray, a book which I am yet to read);
three website designs all with CMS. Why I offered CMS in the first place, I'm still not sure.
Food & Hotel exhibition to visit, in which I will be buying a load of food material that I might regret buying after I have enough time to think of their nutritional value.

Actually, I've gone to that exhibition yesterday. I have, too, bought some stuff. Tomorrow will be their last day, and thus, a lot of the exhibitor will probably put on mighty hefty discounts on their goods to get rid of them so they won't have to carry the whole lot back to their respective offices.

In all honesty, visiting that exhibition make me feel like a celeb. I've worked there for a little less than ten years. I know a lot of people on there. It was a delight to see them greeting me as if I've not been absent for the past three years. Although I am aware that the (office) people prolly have less sincerity than the (field) people, at least they didn't brush me off.

The fun part was one of the demos made by a german chef. Prior to him making that demo, his (local, indonesian) colleague was like: "oh, he doesn't talk much. Like, all chefs tend to be a little snobbish," and mother - the ever-so-friendly person that she is - started talking to the chef in German. She'd spent four years there before I was born and had worked in a US-based company with Germans. She speaks the language, although not as fluent as my dad (lived there for 20 years). But guess what? The chef happily replied to all of her questions. The colleague dude was like :jawdrop:. Me, I just enjoy the cakes coming out of the demo...

Still, though, people who talked to mother first before talking to me tend to ask: "Have you graduated?" Eh. :hmm:

So what's the other important thing(s) that happened in the past week? I'm gonna get another nephew/niece. Dewi is 2 months pregnant with Aqiilah's little sibling. :D Two babies this year!:boogie:

I'm tired. Not like, z0mg-depressed-fatigued-want-to-die kind of tired, though. Just tired. My bank account is really happy, however.
  • Listening to: Welcome to Wherever You Are - Bon Jovi
  • Reading: nothing
  • Drinking: coffee