<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466</id><updated>2011-08-13T02:48:54.951-07:00</updated><category term='job'/><category term='Music'/><category term='o Cilegonian Devil'/><category term='Weekend'/><category term='how to'/><category term='film'/><category term='damar'/><category term='Pasutri'/><category term='health'/><category term='blog'/><category term='book'/><category term='on the road'/><category term='pregnancy'/><category term='blog things'/><category term='the city'/><title type='text'>can i fill it with whitespaces?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>39</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-2938661611311246746</id><published>2010-05-05T02:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T02:54:41.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Begini Rasanya Menangis Karena Hilang Kesabaran Menghadapi Anak</title><content type='html'>Semalam terjadi huru hara. Huru hara besar. Tengah malam Mas Damar minta mimik. Sebelumnya dalam tidurku aku merasa Mas Damar gelisah sekian lama. Akhirnya aku mau bangun dan menyusui Mas Damar. Seperti biasa, ketika menyusui malam-malam, aku meraba pantat Mas Damar. Ow, pantesan gelisah, basah begini. Ya sudah, aku lepas celananya. Giliran kaosnya mau dilepas, Mas Damar protes. Aku bujuk, "Mas, nanti masuk angin kalau kaosnya basah." Mas Damar ngeyel dan berujung ngamuk. Karena aku pengin pipis dan campur kesal, kutinggalkan Mas Damar begitu saja ke kamar mandi. Dan seperti biasa, dia mengikuti dan menggedor-gedor pintu kamar mandi sambil ngamuk. Minta ampun, malam-malam begini berteriak-teriak seperti itu.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aku berusaha membujuk dengan suara pelan, Mas Damar tetap ngamuk. Lalu minta mimik tapi nggak mau mimik. Malah mengusir aku, "pergi!!!" Aku keluar kamar, Mas Damar tambah ngamuk, "ikut! ikut!" Begitu terus sampai kurang lebih dua puluh menit. Aku sampai hilang kesabaran, kubanting selimut dan bantal sambil bertanya, "Mas Damar maunya apa? Kenapa?" Mas Damar tambah keras nangisnya. Astaghfirullah, akhirnya aku diam. Setengah menyesal karena sempat lepas kontrol aku menangis. Melihatku menangis, Mas Damar yang sempat diam malah ikut-ikutan menangis, tapi menangisnya tak bersuara, dan kepalanya nyusruk ke dalam bantal. Lalu kutanya dia. "Mas Damar kenapa? Mas Damar kenapa jahat sama ibu? Ibu salah apa? Mas Damar kenapa nakal sama ibu? Salah ibu apa? Mas, ibu Mas Damar cuma satu. Kalau ibu nggak ada, Mas Damar sama siapa?" Terus... terus... kuulang-ulang saja pertanyaan itu. Mas Damar tak segera diam. Lalu aku berdoa. Mas Damar diam dan ngeliatin. Lalu dia nempel-nempel ke aku. Lalu menyorongkan tangan kirinya untuk minta maaf, lalu mencium pipiku dan tak lupa : "mimik... mimik..." Hahaha, biar kondisi sedang gawat begini nggak pernah lupa ya sama mimiknya.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Setelah dia bobok (dan tetap gelisah) aku mikir-mikir. Aku ingat kejadian paginya. Aku berangkat kerja naik angkot. Ada pengamen anak-anak. Waktu dia menawarkan amplop tiga penumpang angkot termasuk aku menolak dengan melambaikan tangan. Tapi setelah itu dia tidak turun dari angkot. Dia tetap menyanyi. Dengan soundtrack ngenes nyanyian pengamen cilik itu, aku mikir. "Kalau aku nggak ada, bapak nggak ada, gimana nasib Mas Damar ya? Jangan sampai terlantar seperti ini." Karena pikiran itu, waktu si pengamen mau turun aku kasih sekedar recehan. Dua penumpang lain melirik. Aku berpikir, mereka merasa dikhianati oleh ulahku hihi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nyambung ke malam itu. Aku mempertanyakan, "kalau ibu nggak ada, Mas Damar sama siapa?" Astaghfirullah, jadi begini cara Allah mengingatkanku. Mas Damar milik Dia, bukan milikku. Kalau aku nggak ada, Mas Damar akan dijaga-Nya. Aku kok takabur begini. Astaghfirullah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aku juga mikir. Mungkin begini hukumanku karena kadang membuat ibuku menangis. Aku disuruh merasakan juga bagaimana rasanya menangis karena jengkel sama anak. Ya Allah ampuni aku. Ibu, maafkan aku.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-2938661611311246746?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/2938661611311246746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=2938661611311246746&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2938661611311246746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2938661611311246746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2010/05/begini-rasanya-menangis-karena-hilang.html' title='Begini Rasanya Menangis Karena Hilang Kesabaran Menghadapi Anak'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-6488641723271221467</id><published>2010-01-03T16:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T18:16:40.568-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anak Kami Meninggal Sebelum Dilahirkan</title><content type='html'>19 Des 2009 : Flek dua kali. Warna merah cerah.&lt;br /&gt;20 Des 2009: Periksa ke dr. Sofie (suster-suster Hermina menyebutnya Prof. Sofie). Dengan USG perut kondisi rahim susah terlihat karena sang ibu paginya kurang minum. Akhirnya, aku merasakan juga yang namanya USG transvaginal. Rasanya biasa-biasa saja :D. Bayi yang menurut hitunganku 8 minggu (LMP: 24 Okt 2009), menurut alat USG umurnya 7 minggu 5 hari. Terdeteksi denyut jantung. Menurutku, gerakannya lemah dibanding waktu Damar dulu: kelihatan banget. Tapi menurut Prof. Sofie kondisi rahim dan janin baik-baik saja. Tetapi dengan laporan soal flek, Prof. Sofie wanti-wanti supaya aku segera ke Hermina kalau keluar flek lagi.&lt;br /&gt;29 Des 2009: Flek kecoklatan 5 kali, keluar sewaktu BAB dan BAK.&lt;br /&gt;30 Des 2009: Pagi-pagi darah keluar bukan ketika BAB/BAK. Tapi mengalir seperti ketika menstruasi. Aku langsung ke Hermina dan dibawa ke ruang bersalin. Tidur di tempat yang sama persis dengan sewaktu melahirkan Damar. Perasaanku mulai nggak enak. Bidan yang mengisi formulir sempat meragukan kedatanganku ke kamar bersalin. "Jadi, fleknya cuma waktu pipis aja?" dengan raut wajah sedikit kecut. Sewaktu bidan lain bertanya sambil lalu, dia menjawab, "abortus." Duh, semoga ibu bidan yang satu ini lebih bijaksana.&lt;br /&gt;Tiduran sekitar satu jam menunggu Prof. Sofie. Ternyata beliau sedang mengajar di Jatinangor. Konsultasi hanya dilakukan lewat telepon. Prof. Sofie berpesan agar aku di-USG oleh dokter yang sedang praktek. Jika janin baik, aku diminta bedrest di RS karena menurutnya tidak mungkin bedrest di rumah dengan kehadiran anak yang belum genap 2 tahun. Oh, benar banget, selama hamil kedua ini aku tidak pernah bisa beristirahat dengan tenang dan damai. Bagaimana jika kondisi janin tidak baik (penghalusan dari sudah meninggal)? Aku harus dikuret.&lt;br /&gt;Aku di-USG oleh dr. Yena. USG perut kurang jelas (dan aku sudah minum 3 gelas air putih sebelumnya, wew!). Dr. Yena meminta aku USG transvaginal lagi. Baiklah. Waktu itu aku tidak berpikir panjang bahwa USG transvaginal bisa membuat perdarahan makin parah. Hasil USG? Kabar baiknya janin kulihat sudah lebih besar, bentuknya juga sudah berkembang. Dilihat dari umurnya adalah 8 minggu 3 hari. Hmm, hitunganku sudah 9 minggu 3 hari. Kabar buruknya, menurut dr. Yena: TIDAK ADA DETAK JANTUNG.&lt;br /&gt;Kembali konsultasi dengan Prof. Sofie lewat telepon. Aku diminta pulang lalu datang BERSAMA DENGAN SUAMI untuk kuret. Puasa dulu 6 jam. Tetapi aku meminta Prof. Sofie sebelumnya melihat dulu sendiri kondisi kehamilanku. Beliau setuju dan meminta aku datang ke Zr. Tedja jam 3 sore. Aku bilang suamiku mungkin belum datang karena masih di Jakarta, kalau hari Rabu? "Okay, jam 2 siang ya?"&lt;br /&gt;Aku menunggu administrasi di kasir sambil menangis. Sampai di kantor, ibuku menelpun. Ibuku selalu menelpun di saat yang tepat. Intuisinya memang sangat tajam jika itu menyangkut anak-anaknya. Tambah nangis-nangis lagi aku nya :D. Dulu waktu aku sedang bingung sendiri karena mules-mules mau melahirkan Damar sebelum waktunya, ibuku juga menelpun.&lt;br /&gt;Jam 12, m Raul datang. Dia sepakat dengan tindakanku untuk mencari second opinion dari dr. Sofie. Mungkin jika alat lebih canggih lebih kelihatan? Mungkin detak jantungnya lemah? Mungkin posisi janin sedang kurang bagus?&lt;br /&gt;Kabar buruknya, sepulangku dari Hermina, darahku mengalir seperti menstruasi. Bukan cuma semburat warna kecoklatan.&lt;br /&gt;30 Des 2009: Pagi-pagi menelpun Zr. Tedja. Tidak ada yang mengangkat. Siang jam 1 menelpun lagi dan ternyata hari itu antrian sudah penuh. Aku langsung meminta m Raul untuk mencari informasi dokter kandungan di Borromeus. Dan sorenya, kami langsung datang ke dr. Eddy Haswidi di Borromeus. Dengan alat USG di ruangannya, dr. Eddy kurang yakin. "Gimana ini? Ada detak nggak? Ukurannya memang kecil. Sepertinya tidak berkembang. Gimana? Sayang ya, padahal ada janin. Bu, USG lagi yang lebih besar ya. Sebelum memutuskan lebih baik kita yakin. Kalau bisa malam ini juga USG, saya tunggu. Tapi kalau sudah tutup, besuk pagi-pagi ya." Kami setuju dengan dr. Eddy. Sebenarnya aku agak kecewa dengan Prof. Sofie, kenapa beliau segera memintaku untuk kuret padahal beliau belum melihat langsung kondisi janin. Mungkin karena Prof. Sofie sangat percaya pada kompetensi rekannya.&lt;br /&gt;Oh ya kali ini, aku minum banyak dan menahan pipis hehehe. Sampai waktu mau USG, si dokter bilang, "Perutnya dilemesin Bu..." Haha, ini kaku karena nahan pipis jeh.&lt;br /&gt;Malamnya, aku mengalami mules-mules terus-terusan tanpa henti selama sekitar 5 jam (haha, 1 jam = 1 menit. Yang namanya kontraksi kan sebentar saja kerasa lama ya?). Sakitnya seperti waktu mau melahirkan. Boong, rasanya cuma sepersekian mules melahirkan. Lalu rasanya keluar sesuatu yang bukan aliran darah. Aku menduga gumpalan darah. Setelah sakit reda aku ke kamar mandi untuk melihat. Dan ternyata yang keluar di kamar tadi adalah jaringan. Patah hati iya tapi juga lega rasanya. Aku tidak harus bertanya-tanya lagi.&lt;br /&gt;31 Des 2009: Kami konsultasi lagi dengan dr. Eddy Haswidi. Dan dokter langsung meminta aku untuk menjalani prosedur D&amp;amp;C siang itu juga. Semua suster mempertanyakan keputusan ini. Soalnya aku sudah sarapan jam 8 pagi :D. Dr. Eddy bilang tidak apa-apa. Ya sudah. Mari kita kuret. Jam 11 aku masuk ruang kuret. Dengan segala persiapan dan lalu beres-beres setelah kuret, jam dua belas kurang seperempat aku sudah di ruang pemulihan.  Kupikir tadinya, kuret bakalan menyiksa. Ternyata ibu-ibu, kuret adalah hiburan bagi ibu yang mengalami keguguran. He, setidaknya itu berlaku bagiku. Tentu saja bukan dikerok-keroknya yang menghibur tetapi biusnya :D. Setelah aku merasakan cairan bius mengalir di pembuluh darah di tangan kananku aku tidur pulas seketika. Ketika dibangunkan oleh suster, aku masih ngantuk banget dan merasa tenang, nyaman dan damai sejahtera :D. Pantas saja banyak orang kecanduan obat bius dan obat penenang. Tapi walaupun ngantuk banget, aku sempat-sempatin berterimakasih pada dokter. Lalu bertanya kepada suster, apa aku ngelindur. "Enggak kok Bu, nggak ada rahasia yang terbongkar hehe." Lalu bertanya, apa tadi ada sisanya. "Ada Bu, tapi cuma sedikit." Lalu suster berpesan, "Ibu tidur saja sekarang ya. Saya panggilkan suami."&lt;br /&gt;Jam 1 kami pulang dari Borromeus. Ketika m Raul membeli pendil, suster melihatku di luar sedang menjaga motor sambil duduk di jok bagian depan. Suster berteriak, "heee! Baru dikuret sudah naik motor saja!" Oow, aku ketahuan. Aku membela diri, "cuma bonceng kok."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kok aku sepertinya ringan-ringan saja menceritakan semua ini ya? Tidak juga. Sebenarnya, subuh-subuh setelah keguguran aku berpikir lama dan menangis lama, sendirian. Kenapa ini terjadi dan kenapa kejadiannya seperti ini. Mungkin benar kata dr. Yena, ini seleksi alam. Mungkin benar pada dasarnya bibit anak kedua kami kurang bagus. Aku yakin, keguguranku bukan karena semingguan sebelum aku kena flek yang pertama aku kena pilek parah sampai berat badanku turun 4 kilo. Dan sewaktu aku pilek itu aku juga harus menjaga Damar yang rewel karena ketularan pilek dan demamku. Dan aku yakin, keguguranku ini bukan karena sehari sebelum flek yang kedua aku naik angkot dan memangku Damar yang ketiduran. Sepulang dari piknik kecil itu, aku kecapekan luar biasa. Pusing dan pegal. Tapi aku yakin, bukan karena itu aku keguguran. Aku yakin janin kami meninggal sebelum itu. Karena beberapa hari sebelumnya aku sudah merasakan tanda-tanda hamil muda hilang dariku. Sebelumnya aku mencium bau brambang goreng rasanya mau muntah tapi menjelang kena flek itu aku sudah doyan makan brambang goreng. Yang masih belum kupahami sampai sekarang, mengapa aku diberi kesempatan melihat janinku hidup sebelum seminggu kemudian melihatnya tak berdetak lagi? Itu yang membuatku patah hati. Itu yang membuat aku memuas-muaskan diri untuk menyalahkan diri sendiri: aku kurang menyayanginya, aku kurang memperhatikannya, aku kurang mencintainya. Ya Allah, ampuni aku. Anakku, maafkan ibumu. Tidak usah menasehatiku, ini memang tidak rasional. Tapi aku merasa begitu. Begini cara Allah menyuruhku belajar. Untuk lebih bersyukur. Untuk lebih mencintai. Lebih mencintai Mas Damar. Lebih mencintai adik Mas Damar. Lebih mencintai dan membutuhkan suami. Lebih mencintai dan membutuhkan Yang Menciptakan aku.&lt;br /&gt;Namun walaupun kami harus mengalami ini, Allah membuatnya mudah bagi kami. Keguguran yang alami membuat kami yakin anak kami yang kedua ini memang sudah ingin dilahirkan, jauh sebelum waktunya. Kami tidak harus merasa bersalah, tidak harus memaksa anak ini keluar dengan jalan dikuret. Kami juga diberi kesempatan untuk melihat dulu janin yang tidak lagi berdetak jantungnya sebelum akhirnya aku keguguran. Aku yakini ini adalah cara Allah menyelamatkan kami dari prasangka-prasangka: aku keguguran karena aku kecapekan atau bahkan karena aku menyusui Mas Damar. TIDAK AKAN, walaupun cuma sedikit aku akan menyalahkan Mas Damar atau siapa pun dalam hal ini. Kalau ada yang salah, yang salah hanyalah aku. Aku, ibu yang kurang menyayangi anaknya yang kedua.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-6488641723271221467?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/6488641723271221467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=6488641723271221467&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/6488641723271221467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/6488641723271221467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2010/01/anak-kami-meninggal-sebelum-dilahirkan.html' title='Anak Kami Meninggal Sebelum Dilahirkan'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-5511872126615952469</id><published>2009-06-24T01:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T02:18:52.284-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='damar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='job'/><title type='text'>Kindergarten Teacher And Something About Love</title><content type='html'>Damar is such a popular boy for his age. I'm not kidding. I'm not the only one who has such an opinion. When I leaved for work yesterday, Damar already had three guests, five with the adults. This morning, two girls. You may think that I am happy for this fact. Not totally true. Sometimes our -or Damar's- guests drive me insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine these scenes:&lt;br /&gt;- Abdillah grabbed Damar's boots, Damar grabbed Abdillah's face. Damar's mom grabbed his son. Mbak Fari grabbed Abdillah. Damar cried. Abdillah cried.&lt;br /&gt;- Neng built something with legos. Damar disassembled it. Neng pinched Damar's hand. Damar yanked Neng's hair. Damar's mom yelled, "no fight! No fight!" They continued hurting each other. Damar's mom grabbed his son. Damar cried.&lt;br /&gt;- Ipan ran and teased Damar. Damar walked fast, tried to catch him. Damar tangled by his own feet. Damar cried. Ipan went on running and teased him.&lt;br /&gt;- Ipan played a ball. Abdillah wanted his turn to kick the ball. Ipan won't let him. Abdillah cried. Mbak Fari yelled at Ipan then locked him out of his own house. Ipan got into Damar's home and turned the TV on, loudly.&lt;br /&gt;... and there were many more. Believe me, even their harmless michief could make me so upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What make it harder is that Damar enjoy being with his friends. No matter how loud his crying because of his friends' behaviour, it'll be louder if I take him away from them. It always ends up with he's being really mad at me. That's why everytime we hear someone calling Damar's name outside our home, Damar smiles wide and I frown. Sometimes a really bad thought comes into my head that Damar will love his friends better than his own mom. Oh please God, don't let that happens. I am not afraid being called an egoistic mother. I love him and I want him to love me. I hope someday he'll understand that all that I do was nothing but to protect him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am positively sure that I can be very patient with my own boy but not to other kids. That's why I was really surprised when yesterday Mbak Fari asked me, "are you a kindergarten teacher?" Wa ha ha, I am so grateful that I am not! Mbak Las will suit better. It's so lucky we have her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-5511872126615952469?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/5511872126615952469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=5511872126615952469&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/5511872126615952469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/5511872126615952469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2009/06/kindergarten-teacher-and-something.html' title='Kindergarten Teacher And Something About Love'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-3636926248795873075</id><published>2009-06-23T01:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T02:42:58.094-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='damar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='job'/><title type='text'>Sun Salutation</title><content type='html'>Hey, it's been a while since my last post here. I have to admit that I got caught with the Facebook frenzy. It was enough to keep myself busy, not to mention that my job only was already making me crazy over these past few months. Who won't get crazy with Symbian by the way? I will worship anybody who didn't and who help others who did. It drained me mentally and physically as well. Thank God, this project is partially over now. My boss let me have some relax time now. He even suggested me to have a leave. Oh yes, a short calm before another storm. Whatever... I'll enjoy this moment, however brief.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have to come home so late this time. That gives me an opportunity to start reading books again. And also having a lazy morning with my boy again. Not so lazy I guess, we spend it by walking around the neighborhood together, just the two of us. Greeting the morning, the sun, the cats, the people.&lt;br /&gt;I even try to do the &lt;a href="http://www.santosha.com/asanas/suryanamaskar.html"&gt;sun salutation&lt;/a&gt; every morning now. I watch this routine for the first time on the video downloaded from youtube by my ex coworker. I didn't know its name by then. A couple days ago I read about this routine at Dr Oz website. It's simple; It doesn't take time; I tried to do it and I felt pretty good about it so I decided to practice this routine from then on. And every morning I did it, Damar was -still laying in the bed- giggling while watching me with his curious eyes. What so funny dear son? Well, I couldn't be more happy to do something that entertains him. So, it's another reason to keep doing this. Maybe someday he'll follow me doing it instead of just watching and giggling. That'll be my turn to watch him and giggle, ha ha ha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-3636926248795873075?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/3636926248795873075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=3636926248795873075&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/3636926248795873075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/3636926248795873075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2009/06/sun-salutation.html' title='Sun Salutation'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-2512281493165465659</id><published>2008-11-13T16:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T16:50:13.479-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='on the road'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the city'/><title type='text'>Half Face Helmet</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;After I got the kite string accident more than a month ago, I asked bapak a good helmet with something to cover my face against another kite string or big rain drops. I want a half face helmet. We've already been looking around at some malls and the helmets we've found there were either too expensive or too heavy (according to my opinion). And after more than a month, I still wear the same helmet :(.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, one of my coworker said that from this month, all motor rider in Bandung must wear standard helmet (what standard?). This rule will be socialized from November 15. Oh no!! Socialization means police officers everywhere! Oh no!! I have some kind of police paranoia because I don't have a driving license! That's strange because my father is an ex, hahah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-2512281493165465659?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/2512281493165465659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=2512281493165465659&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2512281493165465659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2512281493165465659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2008/11/half-face-helmet.html' title='Half Face Helmet'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-2885028479519508312</id><published>2008-11-11T17:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T17:31:28.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Write Stuff</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.gurl.com/play/quizzes/results/0,,605701_708382-2,00.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://a820.g.akamai.net/f/820/822/1d/i.ivillage.com/gurl/play/quizzes/quiz_write_stuff/blog/blog_dreamy.gif" style="margin-right: 15px;" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my handwriting personality is... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;dreamy doodler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your handwriting shows that you are first and foremost an individual. A little rebellious and a lot quirky, routines bore you and you're happiest when things aren't operating on a set schedule (kind of makes school and work a drag, right?).&lt;br /&gt;You seem intuitive to the point of almost being psychic, have friends from several different cliques and your clothing style is always changing. You probably have a passion for strange, found objects and might be a bit of a flakester (sometimes).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gurl.com/play/quizzes/pages/0,14926,605702_708557,00.html"&gt;What does your handwriting reveal about you?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-2885028479519508312?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/2885028479519508312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=2885028479519508312&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2885028479519508312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2885028479519508312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2008/11/write-stuff.html' title='The Write Stuff'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-968040748898410189</id><published>2008-10-09T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T23:12:38.353-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='on the road'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the city'/><title type='text'>Accident</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;The rider of Mican was crashed by...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;a nasty kite string...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happened yesterday at Pasteur - Surapati fly over. I got several ugly cuts on my forehead, right eye, and upper cheek. Thank God I still could master my Mican although another motorcycle rider scolded me. Apparently he changed his mind and thought that I needed some help. He slowed down his motorcycle and then looked around. But I was fine by that. I continued my journey home with the wind blowing over my cuts, hu hu... it hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I considered myself lucky upon that accident. My coworker had a similar accident in Jl Gunung Batu and he fell down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh kids, don't fly your kites around the highway please. And Mr. Chest, here your people needs some nice public areas. And dear bapak, now I really need a good helmet. Oh and a nice jacket will be great as a bonus :P.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-968040748898410189?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/968040748898410189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=968040748898410189&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/968040748898410189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/968040748898410189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2008/10/accident.html' title='Accident'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-675813966507568757</id><published>2008-09-25T18:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T17:45:38.998-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pregnancy'/><title type='text'>Damar's Birth</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;- My EDD is 27 January 2008, Damar's birth day is Saturday - 5 January 2008 - 00:20, didn't reach the 37th months of pregnancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- From week 0 until birth date I stayed in the house by myself. Bapak worked at Cilegon and then moved to Palembang. A week before the day I went mad at him because I thought he took the detail of the delivery business so lightly. I asked him, "If I went to the hospital without you, then who will do the registration stuff?" He simply answered, " let the nurse do that." Waaaaaaaaah was I mad!&lt;br /&gt;I did the registration by myself :|. I had 3 to 4 cm dilation and was having some strong contractions when I filled up the form. Thank God it was not a long one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I was first having my contraction on 4 January 2008 02.00. On 2 January 2008 the host of the house I lived was died of lungs tumor. All of the family went to Gombong for his funeral.&lt;br /&gt;I hoped that I could ask for their help when I had my labor, and they've all gone :'(. So I asked for Erti's help instead. Erti, Mas Budi and Rahma.... thank you so much. They helped me called the taxi. They went with me to Hermina Pasteur and they stayed there until another family &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;friend &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;arrived: Ajiz, Pak Iwan and Sofi. The later family stayed at the hospital until baby Damar was born in the middle of the night. I'll make sure Damar put them in his heart forever for all their kindness. Am I going to cry :'(.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I haven't convinced that I had labor until around 09.00 when the mucus plug was out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;I went like "oh what am I going to do..." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;I thought the contractions I had the whole night was just a plain stomachache. Then I took a bath, washed my hair, washed my clothes (I consider this as an extreme nesting behavior!), prepared my hospital bag, called bapak that "I think I'm gonna go to the hospital right now, please go home." And then I asked Erti to come to help me. We arrived at the hospital at around 12.00.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The nurses put baby monitor on my tummy twice. My contractions went rare. At around 14.00, they said that I should go home, they thought I won't give birth that day. I felt uncertain. I wanted them to check my dilation first. The nurse did that and said, "Oow... you're 3 to 4 cm dilated." I asked her, "I suppose that's a long way to delivery?" She said, "nope, you're gonna give birth NOW."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Around 16.00 I was still 3-4 cm dilated. I went outside the delivery room. Watching TV with Ajiz. I had my contractions stronger and more frequent. Around 18.00 I went back to my room. I felt sleepy and tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- My gynecologist was Dr Sofie Rifayani but that day she was in Bali. The nurse said that I would be in Dr Irna's hands instead. And she said, "Oh... she's also a good doctor." And I think, "Oh like it will matter... I was too busy to digest all of this."&lt;br /&gt;The doctor came at around 19.00 and she studied the baby monitor result and she said, "I think you should wait until 37th month. You don't have any progress on your dilation. You can stay here tonight but tomorrow you can go home and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;please &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;come back here &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;on Monday &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;to have another check."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- At 19.30 the doctor asked me to come to her room. She examined me using the USG tool. And then she said the same thing that I should go home tomorrow. I should take a rest so I won't have anymore contractions, oh and I've been wandering around and I took the stairs up and down all afternoon! That suggestion was to late haha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I went back to my room and I said to Ajiz that I'd like to have some nice sleep so she left me alone. I was having strong contractions. I tell you, the breathing technique was so worked for me. When I felt that pain I just breathed and breathed and hold the bed metal frame above my head so strongly. And between all that contractions I slept quite nicely hahah.&lt;br /&gt;But at around 23.00 I couldn't sleep anymore. They grew stronger. I felt like I was going to the toilet but it was too painful to get up from sleeping position and then to get down from the bed. I couldn't help moaning... I couldn't even call the nurse or Ajiz, I went like "oh what am I going to do" once again. Fortunately the other patient in that room told his husband to helped calling the nurse. The nurse came and helped me and she said, "I should check your dilation. Please tell me when you're not having your contraction." So she checked me when I was not having it, and she was giving shocked face and she screamed, "it's a full dilation!!!" Was I relieved!&lt;br /&gt;She screamed, "now... now... it's now!" And she prepared all the tools quickly, she called the doctor, she called her friend to calm me, it didn't work :D. How come they told me, "Hold! Hold! Don't push! Don't push! The doctor's not here!" So I yelled at them, "where is the doctor?" The nurse said, "she's downstairs... just wait a second." Then I heard them whispering that actually the doctor was on her way home, hahah!&lt;br /&gt;One of the nurse sat on me so I couldn't open my legs, oh that was fine. The other one &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;rubbed my back to comfort me, it didn't work, I yelled, "don't rub my back! I must concentrate on my breathing!&lt;/span&gt;" I tell you, when there's no husband to be yelled out, the nurse will be a great substitute hahah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt like I've been waiting forever to push but when the doctor finally arrived I asked, "may I push now? now?" Ha ha, that was a so silly question I admit. So they all yelled at me, "YES, NOW! NOW!" And I pushed, and they were all disappointed. That was not the right way. I thought, "oh what can you expect, it's my first time!" They showed me the right way and I was suddenly became a master, yeah! I pushed once more and I saw my baby boy's hair.&lt;br /&gt;And I saw Ajiz and bapak burst in, and both of the nurses said, "aaaaaaaah here is your husband!", hahah, they sounded so relieved when bapak was arrived, yeah yeah free from the husband substitution duty!&lt;br /&gt;And I saw the doctor's scissors. And I don't care for any of them. I only cared to push and push and I saw him, my baby boy! Yes, I remembered pushing only three times, four if the failed one was counted he he.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The doctor pulled my placenta out and she said, "oh... there was some leftover. You know... before the due date, usually the placenta is still so sticky to the cervix." And there... she took out the leftover manually, using her hands naturally. She went in several times. When she was doing it she gave expression like she was saying, "oh no... not there. Maybe I should reach in deeper? Oh yeah... there it is. And maybe I should check that spot... Oh I like this cleaning business! Yes, I am!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I was so sleepy I almost left Damar sleeping while he was giving his best on the early latched on program kekeke. He seemed to take so long time until the nurse said, "if your baby doesn't found your nipples in another 5 minutes I will take him to cover him." Oh okay, that was fine for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I was suddenly became so alert after the nurse and I were having an argument over a catheter hahah. I don't want to pee and she insisted, saying that based on the procedure I must pee first before she let me left the delivery room.&lt;br /&gt;I left without pee :D. And she said, "oh you doesn't look like a mother who gave birth." How come? And she said, "you look so fresh." Oh maybe I won't if you still insisted me to pee, kekeke, kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Thank God for that argument I can give my colostrum to Damar right away that night. The baby nurse said, "Dedek ini pinter banget nyusunya" I can't give that expression in English :P. So, the first nickname for Damar is "dedek yang pinter nyusu". Every time she met Damar, she called him that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- And I got my own nick name from this nurse who help my delivery, her name is Suster Dorothy by the way. She called me "ibu yang paginya disuruh pulang tapi malah melahirkan."&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a story that will stay in my heart forever. God has made it 'so easy' for me to gave birth when I was feeling so alone and helpless. Oh how I was blessed with the love from my mother, my husband, my family, my friends, and of course my son! And also the help from the doctor and the nurses. Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-675813966507568757?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/675813966507568757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=675813966507568757&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/675813966507568757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/675813966507568757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2008/09/damars-birth.html' title='Damar&apos;s Birth'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-3474513803785429872</id><published>2008-09-23T23:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T23:28:27.318-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='damar'/><title type='text'>It's Not Ams Anymore</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;Hohoho... I still have this blog! I read my posts and it feels so funny to read the word 'ams'. He is 'bapak' now. I'm pretty occupied with Damar and my work and my books and TAR and Survivor I don't have enough time to play with my creativity to create new nick names for my husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, oh yeaah... I created some nick names for Damar:&lt;br /&gt;- Monsu, stands for Monster Susu&lt;br /&gt;- Paduka Tuan Kaisar for his imperious manner, :D&lt;br /&gt;- Wawa because that's what he likes to say "wawa... wawa... wawawa..."&lt;br /&gt;- Cigulak-gulik from his motions especially when he was bathing, back then when he was just a tiny baby&lt;br /&gt;- Cikubembem from pipi tembem&lt;br /&gt;- Pimbem-pimbil from pipi tembem pipi gembil&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bapak also created some nick names:&lt;br /&gt;- Pangeran suku perut buncit, hhh he thinks that perut buncit is cute!&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;I can't remember what else. He's not as creative as I am, ha ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-3474513803785429872?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/3474513803785429872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=3474513803785429872&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/3474513803785429872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/3474513803785429872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2008/09/its-not-ams-anymore.html' title='It&apos;s Not Ams Anymore'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-620709527482602134</id><published>2008-04-16T23:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T01:34:39.145-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><title type='text'>Reunion: Me and My Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;I'm sorry oh dear blog, I left you for ages. Well, I just lost my cynical side during my pregnancy and cynical is an important keyword in this blog :D. I think it's important for a woman to have positive attitudes while she's pregnant so I just didn't feel right to write here. I wrote at my friendster blog instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good news is, I've delivered my baby (January 5). Oh, is he a cute baby boy! How he changes me in some ways! And exactly that's the bad news. I think I lost most of my cynical side--or is it just my imagination? He95x--. I should ask my husband, sometimes he knows me better than I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, even if I do lose my cynical side, still I'm not quite sure if it was permanent :D :D :D.&lt;br /&gt;So dear blog, let me write my journal here. Let us forget about cynical or non-cynical. I just have this feeling that it's time to come back to you. Hug!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-620709527482602134?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/620709527482602134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=620709527482602134&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/620709527482602134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/620709527482602134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2008/04/reunion-me-and-my-blog.html' title='Reunion: Me and My Blog'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-649237360428339340</id><published>2007-07-14T00:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T19:06:45.970-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><title type='text'>Weird vs Romantic</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Yesterday one of my coworker told other workers including me about his love life, I won't get into the detail here because it's somebody else's life. But his story made me told them about ams and I, how I ask what ams want before I bought something for his birthday present and how I told him what I want before he asked me :P. Also how we buy things, if he wants to buy expensive thing then he must make me buy another expensive thing for myself first before I let him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My coworker said, "you, weird couple". Ho ho... are we? Maybe we are, but some of my friends thought that we are romantic, in a weird way maybe.. ha ha.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Like one afternoon... while i was still working at steel pipe factory, I told Patrick via Yahoo! Messenger about how lonely and bored I am without weird people around me. Patrik was one of the weird people :P. And I said, "even my husband become less weird now :((".&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And the night came, I've already asked ams to pick me up but he made me wait and I had empty stomach. Waiting itself can turn up the angry srilas, so can the hunger. Waiting + hunger = furious srilas.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So, when ams finally arrived, I was no longer a nice wife, I became a sharp-tongued witch.. "what took you so long? You know how long I've been waiting? Where've you been? I'm really hungry! bla bla bla bla bla bla bla. I want to eat now!!!" And the cool husband said, "Where do you want to eat?" -- "I am hungry.. I cannot think anymore!! You should know that!!" -- "...". At the first intersection he asked, "left or right?"(Left=home, right=the city) No answer, because I was also too hungry to say something :P. And apparently he grew tired of my attitude. He too no longer said anything along the way. He hope when we passed by an eating place that I like I told him to stop. But, again, I was too hungry to say something, and he was too tired to ask me. And we just went and went until we crossed over Cilegon border. The road became narrower and darker but he didn't stop the motorcycle. I knew he was tired. He moved his shoulder up and down several times. I was so afraid that he would loose his control over the vehicle... he drove it slower and slower so it became unstable and sometimes it ran over the gravel for a while before it came back to the road. But I was so angry I couldn't say anything to stop him, I thought, "if you want to make me afraid, bring it on!!" instead.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And we reached Serang but suddenly he turned around the vehicle, hu hu I really thanked God when he did that, I didn't want to eat anymore. I was so cold and tired, I just want to sleep peacefully. But he was no longer cool husband, he was crazy. Contrary to how he drove the vehicle before, he made it ran so fast now. Really really fast. I was so afraid, and so cold but my mind was busy thinking what it was all about and I thought things that could make him stop. So, when we reached the city again suddenly I took his helmet off, hihihi. Oh I won!!! He stopped because there're so many officers along Cilegon main road.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I asked him, "What do you want?" &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"Nothing", he said.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;... ... ...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I said, "I won't give it back to you if you don't tell me something"&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"Okay."&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;... ... ...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Thing is, he stopped near a sleeping mad man. Later he told me he did that on purpose because he knew I am afraid of them. The mad man made me nervous. I want to get out of that place right away, so I said,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"If you don't say anything, I'll just go home by angkot and I will bring these helmets."&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"Okay"&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So, I went home alone, bringing two helmets ha ha. Later he told me he must go back near Cilegon border to buy another helmet first before he came back to the city.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What a night!!! I reached home at 8.30, so cold and trembled. But thank God I was tired, so I could sleep easily. Ams didn't return home until early in the morning. When I went to work he was still sleeping.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So, when I went online and saw Patrick was online too, I sent a message for him, "my husband is not weird anymore... he's getting crazy."--"Why?" he replied and I told him everything. Funny, in the end he said, "oh..that kind of romantic..."&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ho ho, what Patrick said kind of reminded me why I love ams, because he is ams he he, who's so different from any other men. So I called ams and told him, "sorry..." and he said, "me too". Then our life back to a normal and simple life. You tell me, are we weird? or romantic?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-649237360428339340?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/649237360428339340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=649237360428339340&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/649237360428339340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/649237360428339340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/07/weird-vs-romantic.html' title='Weird vs Romantic'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-3330572439125169851</id><published>2007-06-29T23:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-29T23:53:03.655-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Piyo vs Miyo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;My mother called me, "bla bla, take care of yourself and the... bla bla, if you want something go for it... bla bla, I told mas Raul to give you whatever you want and he said okay..." Aha! I called ams right away, and I said, "Why don't you tell me your promise to my mother?" - "E he he he.." - "bla bla bla... remember your promise to my mother, okay? bla bla bla... remember your promise to my mother, okay? bla bla bla... just remember it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hu hu hu.... actually I don't want any strange or rare things. I only want to see ams as much as I want plus a pillow and hot water, just that.... hu hu. And if I said I want &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the red lion&lt;/span&gt;--he calls it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;singo edan&lt;/span&gt;--ams already knew it. And he bought me a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;red cat&lt;/span&gt; instead. It's okay ams... thank you :* But my mother told me not to play with the cat for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-3330572439125169851?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/3330572439125169851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=3330572439125169851&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/3330572439125169851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/3330572439125169851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/06/piyo-vs-miyo.html' title='Piyo vs Miyo'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-7182468133188395812</id><published>2007-06-28T21:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T22:10:29.764-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the city'/><title type='text'>Nice Guy vs Nice Buffalo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;Heart is a mysterious thing. What inside the heart can change so easily. You hate someone so much and at a moment your heart flip over itself and you're in love. This is what happened to me yesterday. Aheeem... Did I fall in love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every evening, on my way home, I have to do something so dangerous... crossing the street. Laugh as hard as you can, but it is a very creepy one &gt;:P. It's a fine and wide street (8 lines). A perfect street to drive through with full speed. It's busy all the time, especially on after-office hour. That's the time when I have to cross it over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yesterday when I timidly stepped back and forth at the side of the street, waited for a pretty clear and save path for me to walk through, there came a guy at my right side. He was gonna cross the street too. And when he did it, I was so amazed, he did it confidently, gracefully, no stepping back. So, he made thing easier for me because I could walk along with him safely. And we got into the middle of the street successfully. And we turned our sight from right  to left, where the vehicles came from. And suddenly the guy walked behind me and stood at my left. Woa, at that very moment I felt something warm in my heart. How nice! So, he'd set a safe path for ME again? Yes, he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I fall in love? Too bad, this story is not that fabulous a.k.a ridiculous. All I want to tell here is that how a very simple gesture can touch my heart. I'm not falling in love but I hope to meet him again, every evening. I hope he'll always be there when I need him, to help me crossing the street ha95x.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking about crossing the street... back then when I was in Cilegon... if I had to come home late at night... ams and I must watch the street ahead carefully because sometimes there's a herd of buffalo lazily crossing the street of krakatau industrial estate. Their grey color, matched with the color of the night, can trick our eyes. I don't want the same accident happened to me. The accident that happened long long time ago... me and my father, on a motorcycle, we crashed a big buffalo that was crossing the street at dawn time. You may think that was funny, but it was not. I fell down so hard. It hurt both my stomach and my pride. And the buffalo just ran away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-7182468133188395812?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/7182468133188395812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=7182468133188395812&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/7182468133188395812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/7182468133188395812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/06/nice-guy-vs-nice-buffalo.html' title='Nice Guy vs Nice Buffalo'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-8358057177582047381</id><published>2007-06-27T22:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T22:23:42.867-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='o Cilegonian Devil'/><title type='text'>Surprise!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;I got a message at my cellphone from Aswin, my ex coworker at the previous company that I worked for, "Why don't you reply my message at YM? They placed me at CM 1, no internet there you know!!!" (=He went online with struggle)&lt;br /&gt;Ha ha, another victim of the proxy that make me looked online after I already sign out and exit from YM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said sorry, bla bla bla, and then he told me, "You got annual bonus, if you don't want it, I'll also take yours for myself ha ha!" What? Bonus? What a surprise. Let alone its amount, the fact that they still remember me kind of touch me, hu hu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It reminds me of a similar situation, it was when Sofi, a finance staff of my other previous company called me two months after I resigned, "Are you keeping your old BCA account?" - "Yes, why?" - "We're gonna transfer Rp xxx into your account. It's the reward for your article." Ho ho, what a surprise... though arose a wicked thought: "that article I wrote at the stone age?" hu hu hu, sorry, I really95x appreciated that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kok&lt;/span&gt;. Like my wise ams said against mbak Meja: It's not all about the money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-8358057177582047381?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/8358057177582047381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=8358057177582047381&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/8358057177582047381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/8358057177582047381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/06/surprise.html' title='Surprise!!!'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-452858662710734488</id><published>2007-05-22T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T22:59:01.585-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><title type='text'>Two Questions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;This posting is partly inspired by &lt;a href="http://armyta.wordpress.com"&gt;diBond's blog&lt;/a&gt;. In one of her posting, she wrote about questions that she hates the most, she likes the most, etc. These are the questions that I dislike the most:&lt;br /&gt;1. Why are you moving from Cilegon and from KHI?&lt;br /&gt;2. How long have you been married? Why don't you get pregnant or have a child?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Number 1, believe me it's a long story. I don't like to answer it because it'll only lead to another questions, or rather as judgements. Many people said, "too bad, KHI is such a big company, and it's better than other members of KS Group (read: higher salary)."&lt;br /&gt;One said, "and you're gonna live separated from your husband? Ah, you're youngsters... you live your life without a plan." W..what? I'm not younger than you, we're graduated from high school in the same year! Ha ha! And furthermore, I made my decision of leaving KHI after 3 months of frowning forehead, disputes, and sometimes tears.&lt;br /&gt;So, if you ask me question #1, now I tend to answer it shortly, "I don't feel comfortable working and living there." Yet, for this simple answer, one said, "ah you say it so easily!!"&lt;br /&gt;Oh God, please let them know that in this world there's a thing called "tenggang rasa", consideration. Ha ha, please give them P-4 course again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Number 2, that's not a long story. But I'm tired of that question. I'll simply smile, and when they force me more to answer it, I'll only say, "Please, pray for us."&lt;br /&gt;For some people, that short answer is as useless as the long one. They'll still give comments like,&lt;br /&gt;"don't prevent your pregnancy!" - We don't, I've already told you that.&lt;br /&gt;"Having a child is cool! Like me, I want many children." - He he, get married first please.&lt;br /&gt;"I tell you, you're not doing enough 'efforts'..." - Ow you're saying that having children equal to good in bed? Well, congratulation then. But I don't want to hear any of your "bed stories".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish everybody was just like my mom. Concerning to that questions, she's the most wise person. Despite the fact that she's the happiest person to know that I was working for a BUMN... when I told her that I was moving, she said, "Oh, wherever you live, wherever you work... it's OK, as long as you're happy." And I know she'll be the happiest person to have a grandchild from me but she doesn't ask me, "are you already pregnant?" cause she thinks it'll hurt my feeling. Actually, I'm just bored to that question :P and yes, some comments do hurt me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-452858662710734488?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/452858662710734488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=452858662710734488&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/452858662710734488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/452858662710734488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/05/two-questions.html' title='Two Questions'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-4135740158922883436</id><published>2007-05-15T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T21:14:14.797-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='how to'/><title type='text'>How To Delete Your Friend on Friendster?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;Finding how to do that was not an easy thing for me. First, I tried to figure it out by myself, using common user interface logic. I failed. Then I searched it on Google, found &lt;a href="http://philip.greenspun.com/teaching/6171/2003-fall/friendster"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;. But I couldn't find the OBJECT delete!&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, I wonder if friendster do this on purpose. Make it so hard to do, because naturally someone doesn't just delete a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I got the way by searching friendster's FAQ, and how is it?&lt;br /&gt;1. Open your personal profile&lt;br /&gt;2. Click Edit Friends, the application will show your friend list&lt;br /&gt;3. Find the person that you want to delete, then click X button on top right of the person summary box (with pic, send message link, and last login info).&lt;br /&gt;4. Click Yes for the confirmation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gosh, I've never seen that X button before 8-}.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-4135740158922883436?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/4135740158922883436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=4135740158922883436&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4135740158922883436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4135740158922883436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/05/how-to-delete-your-friend-on-friendster.html' title='How To Delete Your Friend on Friendster?'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-4576388564255260792</id><published>2007-04-20T18:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T19:04:55.148-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='film'/><title type='text'>Nodame Cantabile</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;I was crying watching this dorama. The music is so touching... I know nothing about classical music, but it's so beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;So, everytime Nodame cried because of the music, I cried too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-4576388564255260792?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/4576388564255260792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=4576388564255260792&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4576388564255260792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4576388564255260792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/04/nodame-cantabile.html' title='Nodame Cantabile'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-4013543166929606159</id><published>2007-04-18T20:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T20:45:24.068-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><title type='text'>KaSaCiMa</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;So today, I'm listening to this song... KaSaCiMa. Ha95x.&lt;br /&gt;KAsihku SAyangku CIntaku MAnisku.&lt;br /&gt;It'll make us easier to call each other, sacima sacima...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A positive song for us, AMSku.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anniversary&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-4013543166929606159?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/4013543166929606159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=4013543166929606159&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4013543166929606159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4013543166929606159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/04/kasacima.html' title='KaSaCiMa'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-8654741881351674521</id><published>2007-04-13T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-13T18:24:30.501-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><title type='text'>How Lucky I Am, How Stupid I Am</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;I have a friend, let's just call him MAS. Don't get puzzled. MAS is not AMS though they share a character: being SMART MOUTH.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday afternoon at my office, in the middle of the quietness of working and drowsy situation suddenly my coworker shrieked, "Awwww what does MAS mean, telling things like this!!??!"&lt;br /&gt;"Hee... what things?" I said. He pointed his finger to his computer screen. A chat window. Aha! His wife told him whatMAS said to her before, "X was doing really really well for choosing you as his wife." X here is my coworker.&lt;br /&gt;Wahahaha... Then I sent an instant message to MAS, told him that I knew what he said to X's wife. He just laughed. And I asked him, "why you never said to me so... Why you never told me that ams did the right thing for choosing me as his wife?"&lt;br /&gt;He laughed and laughed and said, "well, in your case... I should say you're doing the right thing for choosing m raul as your husband." What??? x(&lt;br /&gt;Well, actually I do think so. MAS was perfectly right. But why oh why he did not kindly say it the opposite way, that I am such a blessing for ams? Just to make me happy? Ha ha, if he said so, I certainly would laugh... not because I was happy but because I'd think that he was ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And let me tell you what ams thinks about whether we choose the right partner for the rest of our life.&lt;br /&gt;When I do something stupid, when I make mistake, I'll say, "Haa how stupid I am." And when ams is around, he'll say, "yaaa you're so stupid, indeed." Oh, I won't be mad at him because I know after that he'll say, "you're so stupid for choosing me as your husband." And he know that I'll say, "silly, of course I chose you... you're the smartest man I've ever met in my life." The conversation already become our ritual. Now, don't vomit please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-8654741881351674521?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/8654741881351674521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=8654741881351674521&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/8654741881351674521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/8654741881351674521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/04/how-lucky-i-am-how-stupid-i-am.html' title='How Lucky I Am, How Stupid I Am'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-4254157792258276359</id><published>2007-04-05T01:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T02:01:45.589-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='o Cilegonian Devil'/><title type='text'>Poor Ams</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;Poor poor ams... left by his uncaring spouse, must live alone in the deserted dusty city. Stay at home alone. Do all the household activities by himself. Cleaning, laundering, cooking (instant noodle only)... and also keeping things safe from mice attack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night he said he must attend an important meeting with some ministry officials. Hurriedly I said, "don't be too lazy not ironing your clothes!!" Haa! I know exactly he doesn't like that activity and he doesn't mind wearing wrinkled clothes. He just laughed, right away I was sure he won't iron his clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I got a short message from him. "So embarassed, eat at Sari Kuring and I got a hole at my toe" Ha ha ha ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only I was there, live with him... :(( But what's the point? He'll still wear the same sock!! Ha ha... I won't care about what sock he wears :D:D:D.&lt;br /&gt;Yes I am, I'm an uncaring wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-4254157792258276359?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/4254157792258276359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=4254157792258276359&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4254157792258276359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4254157792258276359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/04/poor-ams.html' title='Poor Ams'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-2127569966694575006</id><published>2007-04-02T02:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T02:24:23.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;This is the first post I submit from my new place.&lt;br /&gt;I hope everything is gonna be better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-2127569966694575006?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/2127569966694575006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=2127569966694575006&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2127569966694575006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2127569966694575006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/04/first-post.html' title='First Post'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-4932530150876698945</id><published>2007-03-22T21:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-22T22:05:52.585-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='o Cilegonian Devil'/><title type='text'>Last Posting</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;This is the last posting I submit from my current office. Because next week, I'm not gonna be here anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, good bye all.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;No regret, no more anger.&lt;br /&gt;Let me walk away from here with a wide smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-4932530150876698945?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/4932530150876698945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=4932530150876698945&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4932530150876698945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4932530150876698945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/03/last-posting.html' title='Last Posting'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-5872940451869082718</id><published>2007-03-21T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T20:18:31.763-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weekend'/><title type='text'>Incubus on The South Pearl</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;Last weekend, ams and I went to Temanggung, Jogja and Bandung. I am not going to tell every detail of that trip here, I'll just tell the part while we moved on from Jogja to Bandung. We took a train called Mutiara Selatan (The South Pearl), business class :|. It was the end of a long weekend,  other -better- train is fully booked :(.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt; The South Pearl is a night train, departed from Jogja at 22.10.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside the train, it was like hell, everybody was smoking :((.  Not everybody, but so many many MEN were smoking in the train. The root of the problem was a group of teenagers. There were so annoying. They played their 'kind of music' from a cellphone, loudly. You know how a cellphone speaker producing sound? Not good!!! And some of the song are hard-core kind. They also talked loudly, laughed loudly, and of course they smoked too.&lt;br /&gt;That made everybody else on the train couldn't sleep. The women could do nothing but frown, but the men smoked to chase away the annoyance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a woman, I frowned and I talked, almost yelled, to ams, "how can I sleep with all this smoke!!" Ams a man but he didn't dare to smoke, ha ha, not in front of a calm srilas or an angry srilas. He only could give a wry face, a wry smile. I started blaming ams for choosing this train and for having this plan, went to Bandung first before we went back to Cilegon. But that didn't solved the problem. All I could do was calming myself down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, some of their music were familiar to me, some were my favorite. Like this song, Incubus' I Miss You. While they were playing that song, I even sang it along.... in my heart, :D. Sang it loudly would only encourage them &gt;:P. Suddenly one of them asked with Sundanese language and thick Sundanese dialect, "lagu naon ieu?" ("what song is it?"). And there came the answer, "incubus... incubus..." Ha ha ha ha, I couldn't stop laughing. They spelled cu in incubus like choo in choose. Ams laughed too, he said, "they think they're the coolest people in the world, turn out they're only some ignorant ones."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to that laugh, I could sleep after that :).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-5872940451869082718?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/5872940451869082718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=5872940451869082718&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/5872940451869082718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/5872940451869082718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/03/incubus-on-south-pearl.html' title='Incubus on The South Pearl'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-969911477051513536</id><published>2007-03-15T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-15T20:00:57.502-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='o Cilegonian Devil'/><title type='text'>More About Cat</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;First time I came to the factory, there was something that tickled my mind: cats inside the factory. Seems that nobody cares seeing cats running around the coils and the machines when I think that they are creepy things I don't want to get near them at all :D. Or maybe some factory staffs have already tried to chase them away but they were getting tired because the cats keep coming back, oh cat... oh cat!&lt;br /&gt;I talked about this cat phenomenon to my friends. I said, "no wonder people say cat has seven souls. I mean, they don't wear safety shoes, helmet, or this thick and heavy clothes, arrrgh....! And what are they looking for here? Foot? Are they gonna eat steel and flux?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this morning.... Oh I don't know how am I supposed to feel... but I really want to tell the cat, "I told you!!!" Hwa hwa, okay okay.. I should feel sorry for the cat.... One of its feet is limp. Poor poor cat, it maybe struck by a piece of steel. From what I saw, I'm sure the limp foot has no bones anymore :((. But why is it still running around the coils? How can I tell the cat that it's a very dangerous place? Oh, I wish I knew cat language :|.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-969911477051513536?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/969911477051513536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=969911477051513536&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/969911477051513536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/969911477051513536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/03/more-about-cat.html' title='More About Cat'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-353061088318494577</id><published>2007-03-13T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T03:41:09.866-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><title type='text'>The Origins of Genius (Darwinian Perspectives on Creativity)</title><content type='html'>(&lt;a href="http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/special-name-for-dearest-one.html"&gt;Special Name for Dearest One&lt;/a&gt;, episode 2)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No no no, it's not about &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Origins-Genius-Darwinian-Perspectives-Creativity/dp/0195128796"&gt;this book&lt;/a&gt; although I want to have the (e-)book. What I want to tell you here is about how I call ams and how the calling evolves into some silly ones. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Evolve - evolution - Darwin - Darwinian Perspectives - The Origins of Genius&lt;/span&gt;, see? I hope it explains the way I think, how I relate one word into another, oh how I love association. In fact I'm ridiculously genius at that kind of thing &gt;:).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ams, that's how I call my husband in our daily conversation. It evolves from the word xxx. The clue is I also like to scramble characters/syllables in a word, sadly I say, ams do this much better than me :((. He invented sophisticated words like senaparan, sorry I forget what else :(.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the evolution of call:&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I also call him&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;kamu.&lt;br /&gt;ams + kamu became kams.&lt;br /&gt;kams became kam.&lt;br /&gt;Someday, when I was mad at him, I added some characters into kam. It became kamPT (read: kampete), an abbreviation from an ugly word :(. Soon I regretted it, so I turned it into a much funnier word: kamtempe hi95x.&lt;br /&gt;The most recent call for him now is kam kun, came from Sakaki kun of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My Boss My Hero&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not just him that I call with weird calls. Usually I do this to persons that so close to me, like my sisters, my nephew. Sure, only special persons who deserve such creativity of mine. So if I start calling you with weird or even embarrassing calls, be proud of it, because it's a sign that I put you in a special place of my heart :*.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-353061088318494577?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/353061088318494577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=353061088318494577&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/353061088318494577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/353061088318494577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/03/origins-of-genius-darwinian.html' title='The Origins of Genius (Darwinian Perspectives on Creativity)'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-4810894533122351962</id><published>2007-03-11T18:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-11T20:15:09.179-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='film'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weekend'/><title type='text'>Lazy Weekend</title><content type='html'>Saturday is not a weekend for ams. Even Sunday sometimes becomes his workday too. But after working for 24 hours, no break, ams had no spirit left. Although his big big boss, Mr. Fkmr, called him several times, he let his phone rang and rang until it stopped, without any intention to pick it up. So, this weekend ams had a lazy weekend. As for me, it's always a lazy weekend he95x.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We watched our newest dvd collection, My Boss My Hero, My Name is Kim Sam Soon, Curse of The Golden Flower, The Devil Wears Prada, The Prestige, Dead Man Chest. Argh, he made me watch Dead Man Chest for the third time :((. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you Fact#1, if he likes a film then he won't mind watch it over and over again. First at a theater, then later when he happens to know that other theater still show the same film, he'll ask me to watch it again with him. Then when I go buy some dvds, he'll ask me to buy the dvd version of that same film. Then if he knows that a TV channel is going to show the film, he'll make sure I'm willing to remind him about the show time, because he's too forgetful :P. He does this until he remembers the scene sequence of that film. &lt;br /&gt;Like one night, he accidentally found out that a tv channel show Rambo X, I don't remember which one :P. Of course he watched it then and of course I complained x(. But he persuaded me to watch it by telling me what happen next to the currently shown scene. Yet, I kept scorning the film... and him :P. Until the time when he acted so confident, I almost believed him.&lt;br /&gt;"This one... this one! It's very interesting after this one!"&lt;br /&gt;"Really? So, what will happen?"&lt;br /&gt;"Just watch... It's really unpredictable you know!"&lt;br /&gt;* current scene was Rambo attacking his enemies after his lover is killed, I was waiting, so curious *&lt;br /&gt;"It's time!!!"&lt;br /&gt;* Rambo, covered with mud-standing quietly-blinking eyes, suddenly attacked one of his enemy who walked pass him. I almost cried in despair, so touched by his camouflage technique, :(( :(( *&lt;br /&gt;Even now, I still want to cry just recalling the scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the dvds, My Boss My Hero serial is very funny, soon it became ams' favorite. Fact #2, if he likes a serial then he'll watch its episodes one after the other until its finale episode, of course in the dvd or downloaded version, not the TV show version. His reason is if he doesn't watch it sequentially without a break, he'll forget the story. Hwek, bad reason from a person who remember the scenes of Rambo X &gt;:P. &lt;br /&gt;So different with me, even though I like a serial very much, but I’ll get bored if I watch it without a break. My strategy was… agreed to watch several episodes of the serial, but when the time to change the dvd came, I changed it with other serial or film. If he complained I said, “don’t be greedy, I’ve let you watch 3 episodes of it.” Problem was, he’d mock the film, no matter how good it is. When he was tired doing it, he’d sleep. Worst, he’d go and say, “I’d rather go to my office and work overtime than have to watch it.” :(( :((. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, two facts are enough for this time. Btw, The Prestige is good, you must watch it. Time to open Wikipedia and find out about Mr. Tesla now….&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-4810894533122351962?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/4810894533122351962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=4810894533122351962&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4810894533122351962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4810894533122351962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/03/lazy-weekend.html' title='Lazy Weekend'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-2322631743647533755</id><published>2007-03-05T17:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-05T17:29:53.240-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='o Cilegonian Devil'/><title type='text'>Dementor</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;What do you call someone who suck out all positive things from you, your happiness, hope, dream in each of his presence... Every time he's around you, you'll feel nothing but numb....&lt;br /&gt;A Dementor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what my patronus will be? Ams said, it must be in a form of wild grass, hooo, ilalang?&lt;br /&gt;I think the best form of my patronus is... myself :|.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-2322631743647533755?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/2322631743647533755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=2322631743647533755&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2322631743647533755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2322631743647533755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/03/dementor.html' title='Dementor'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-4187493074949037490</id><published>2007-02-27T18:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T01:15:27.991-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='how to'/><title type='text'>How to set a background in my Excel spreadsheet and Word document?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;That's a question from ams. I gave him a short tutorial using Office 2007. I'm publishing it here as a starter post, hoping in the future I can post useful things for others :P. Sorry, it's a very simple tutorial on a very simple subject :P. Hey... at least it's useful for ams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MS Word 07&lt;br /&gt;1. Get ready with your document, either you create a new file or open an existing file.&lt;br /&gt;2. Click &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Insert&lt;/span&gt; tab.&lt;br /&gt;3. Click &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Picture&lt;/span&gt; button, the one with a picture of two mountains and a sun... a very familiar picture, yeah? We should sue Microsoft for using our childhood drawing without our permission.&lt;br /&gt;4. Here comes an open-file-dialog. Browse and select an image file that you like as a background of your document.&lt;br /&gt;5. Now, you have the picture in your page. Next thing you need to do is set its &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Text Wrapping&lt;/span&gt; property. You can do this by doing right-click on the picture and clicking &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Text Wrapping&lt;/span&gt; menu or you can simply click &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Text Wrapping&lt;/span&gt; button inside &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Arrange&lt;/span&gt; button group. Then choose &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Behind Text&lt;/span&gt; option.&lt;br /&gt;6. You can add the text you want ON the picture. If you think that the picture is too dominant as a background, you can recolor the picture. All you need to do is right click on the picture, select &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Format Picture&lt;/span&gt;. After &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Format Picture&lt;/span&gt; dialog box is showing, select &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Picture&lt;/span&gt; menu at the left panel, click the button next to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Recolor&lt;/span&gt; text, click a less apparent cloud-picture-button, and then click &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Close&lt;/span&gt;. If you still don't like it, set the transparency of your pic with your image editor before you insert it into your document.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MS Excel 2007&lt;br /&gt;1. Get ready with your spreadsheet.&lt;br /&gt;2. Click &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Page Layout&lt;/span&gt; tab.&lt;br /&gt;3. Click &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Background&lt;/span&gt; button. Yeah, I know I know, we're gonna sue them for sure.&lt;br /&gt;4. Browse and select the pic you want in the open-file-dialog, then click &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Insert&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;et voila, your background is ready. Btw, don't use the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Picture&lt;/span&gt; button inside &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Insert&lt;/span&gt; tab because there's no Text Wrapping property in Excel. Don't worry, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Background&lt;/span&gt; button also use the same two-mountains-and-sun scenery that we love so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-4187493074949037490?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/4187493074949037490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=4187493074949037490&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4187493074949037490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4187493074949037490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/how-to-set-background-in-my-excel.html' title='How to set a background in my Excel spreadsheet and Word document?'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-2684918542178064073</id><published>2007-02-27T00:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-05T17:46:26.690-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><title type='text'>Cat Spirit</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;Let it haunt all of you.....&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;I love the color, though the dead cat we found at our backyard is white :P. I don't know what color is the one slaughtered by the demon dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Related stories:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/misterious-dog.html"&gt;Mysterious Dog&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/dear-neighbors.html"&gt;Dear Neighbors,&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script src="http://gmodules.com/ig/ifr?url=http://lsmith2004.googlepages.com/Maukie.xml&amp;synd=open&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;w=300&amp;h=450&amp;amp;title=&amp;border=%23ffffff%7C3px%2C1px+solid+%23999999&amp;amp;output=js"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-2684918542178064073?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/2684918542178064073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=2684918542178064073&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2684918542178064073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2684918542178064073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/cat-spirit.html' title='Cat Spirit'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-539770612395388210</id><published>2007-02-25T22:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-26T17:38:49.877-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='film'/><title type='text'>All The King's Men</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;It almost be a great movie, but there's something missing, I couldn't figure it out... It's maybe the ending. Why did he shoot him? No strong background, not strong enough. So let me blame it on the bad script. And let me give the praise for Mr Sean Penn, a great actor indeed. I almost fell asleep watching the film and Willie Stark's oration kept my eyes wide open. Stark's smirk, Stark's eyes, Stark's walk, Stark's ... Stark's ..., all about Stark. Only the gestures of his hands that disturbed me. I couldn't help imitating it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about Mr Jude Law? I'm really sorry to say, his acting here is kinda plain :((. Sorry... :((. Still, I love his voice when he give the narration. I can capture the emptiness there, the sadness, the nothingness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It could be a great movie, really...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-539770612395388210?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/539770612395388210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=539770612395388210&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/539770612395388210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/539770612395388210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/all-kings-men.html' title='All The King&apos;s Men'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-1075384458284705660</id><published>2007-02-25T18:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-27T01:11:27.665-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='o Cilegonian Devil'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weekend'/><title type='text'>Mysterious Dog</title><content type='html'>Sunday morning, while ams and I were working at our backyard I heard some women screamed. "Look! Look! The dog eat a cat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... 5 minutes earlier.&lt;br /&gt;"Uff! uff!" *a dog, barking*&lt;br /&gt;"Ams... your friend's calling you" *me, smirking*&lt;br /&gt;"Meow! meow!" *a cat, meowing*&lt;br /&gt;"They must be fighting, hihi, it must be funny, oh oh reminds me of cat-and-dog" *me, thinking*&lt;br /&gt;I looked over my fence and I saw a white-light brown dog. I don't like dog but I thought that time, "hmm, pretty cute dog". The owner must've just brought it here for I've never seen it before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... back to the screaming.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, terrible terrible... I wanted to see the horrible sight but I din't have a heart to :((.&lt;br /&gt;A woman said, "The cat is already dead before the dog eat it. I'm sure of it". I wanted to yell, "No!!!!!!!! I heard its meow before. I didn't think that was a scream for a help, an SOS signal. Huuu, wished I know cat language or dog language". Poor poor cat, I'm sorry I didn't save you at the first place. Oh the spirit of mother cat, you won't be lonely anymore, here comes a new spirit of cat :((. Readers, read &lt;a href="http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/dear-neighbors.html"&gt;this post&lt;/a&gt; to know who mother cat is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And who is the owner of the dog? Why didn't you show up? How awful! I bet you hide inside your house, grinning and thought, "let the dog take care of its problem."&lt;br /&gt;Mind you, it's just an animal! Eating a cat is its instinct. It's you who supposed to give it a collar, not let it out until you're sure it won't bite people and their pet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... the night after.&lt;br /&gt;I heard howl of a dog, so near, and other dog, rather far. One after another. In my drowsiness I was convinced the one I heard very near was not a dog, but a wolf. And it ran in front of our house. Suddenly it became so quiet, horribly quiet. I was so afraid, hu hu. I had a feeling that this time I was the cat, I was its victim. Hu hu... I woke up and made sure ams was by my side. My foot seek his and touched its skin. I always do it in my childhood, when I was awake in the middle of the night and I was scared, I would sleep next to one of my sisters and made sure I touched their skin, even it was just my foot thumb that touched their skin :P. By doing that, I won't feel lonely anymore. I will feel secured.&lt;br /&gt;Well, when I was sure that the dog has already ran into another area I felt relieved. Strangely, the quietness ended, in fact, it became unordinarily noisy with the sound of frogs and crickets and other night creatures, as if they're celebrating the moment that the demon has already gone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-1075384458284705660?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/1075384458284705660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=1075384458284705660&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/1075384458284705660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/1075384458284705660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/misterious-dog.html' title='Mysterious Dog'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-7988512618529263569</id><published>2007-02-25T17:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-25T18:29:09.572-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog things'/><title type='text'>Should I Quit My Job?</title><content type='html'>Hi95, I'm a coward... I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hide&lt;/span&gt; the explanation of level 69%. It's 4 points higher than Joey's but it's basically in the same level ;)).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Job Dissatisfaction Level is 69%&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" style="color: rgb(221, 221, 221);" align="center"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#eeeeee"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/shouldyouquityourjobquiz/job-4.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="display: none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your job is a total bummer, and probably the worst job you've ever had.&lt;br /&gt;Your co-workers stink. Your boss is a jerk. And your company is probably in trouble.&lt;br /&gt;Think about finding a new job quickly, even if it's just a not-so-great transition job.&lt;br /&gt;You've got to get out of there as quickly as you can!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/shouldyouquityourjobquiz/"&gt;Should You Quit Your Job?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-7988512618529263569?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/7988512618529263569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=7988512618529263569&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/7988512618529263569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/7988512618529263569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/should-i-quit-my-job_25.html' title='Should I Quit My Job?'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-4323337648257257989</id><published>2007-02-22T18:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T20:50:27.915-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>NH Dini's La Grande Borne</title><content type='html'>It's the latest episode of "Cerita/Serial Kenangan" of NH Dini, firstly published at the beginning of this year. It tells us the dark episode of Dini's life. She almost lost her spirit of life after she got a bad news about her lover, "the captain". Her misery brought some illness to her body. The health treatment and also the pain in her heart made her almost neglect Lintang and Padang who, meanwhile, were growing into self-reliant children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admire the way Lintang and Padang were brought up. Padang went to Trans-en-Provence from Paris by himself when he was only six years old! Of course his mom escorted him to the train and somebody was waiting on him at the destination station. But still, it's very young :P.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm waiting for the next book in this series. Lintang and Padang have become my favorite. Emm, I'm really sorry, Bu Dini... it's not that the story of your own life is not interesting for me anymore but would you put some more stories about them in your next book, please :"&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;Bu Dini, I hope you stay healthy and continue telling us the beautiful story of your life.&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-4323337648257257989?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/4323337648257257989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=4323337648257257989&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4323337648257257989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/4323337648257257989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/nh-dinis-la-grande-borne.html' title='NH Dini&apos;s La Grande Borne'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-2079913985717499326</id><published>2007-02-16T00:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-21T22:47:56.070-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><title type='text'>Sayangku-Cintaku-Manisku (My Darling-My Love-My Honey)</title><content type='html'>(&lt;a href="http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/special-name-for-dearest-one.html"&gt;Special Name for Dearest One&lt;/a&gt;, episode 1)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is one of some special calls we use in our relationship. Again, I remind you, Ams and I is not a romantic couple. We use the words as a teasing. But after for a while, it will be irritating only when ams use it in front of other people. As far as I can remember, it happened twice. Once, in front of his colleagues. The second, in front of his mom.&lt;br /&gt;The one with his colleagues made one of them blushed, the others pretended that they didn't hear it. And I just scowled, imagining they said to themselves, "jadi pengin malu."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second made his mom laughed and said to me, "Nggilani yo". O yeah mom, your son is definitely silly and ridiculous. I only gave a wry smile. Possibly his mom said to herself, "jadi pengin malu", :((.&lt;br /&gt;And I, I never have enough courage to use that call in front of others.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I will tell you where that call came from. It started when srilas watched Fenomena. It's a TV show. Mostly about sex-related lifestyle, like prostitution, triple-x massage, gigolos, and similar stuffs... Sometimes they had an informant in their studio, had the informant spoken out the stories of his/her dark world. Usually they set the light very very low so the audience cannot see the face clearly, and they edit the informant's pitch, make it lower or higher, make it sounds either like the chipmunks or patrick star :*.&lt;br /&gt;But the one srilas watched that time was an on-the-road edition. With hidden cameras, their crews went to a street with a lot of hookers on its side. They slow down their car and the hookers started approaching them. One of the hookers said, "why don't you drop in... c'mon, sayangku-cintaku-manisku...." Ha95x srilas thought it was very funny, the way the hooker seduced the crew.... One love-expression word was not enough, she used three expressions at once. She even used the word "ku"(="my")... my oh my! And the way she recited it... as if they're one single word. Ha95x.&lt;br /&gt;She told her husband about it later, and he also thought the same way. Unfortunately, it gave him an idea! After laughing for a while, he called srilas with that funny words. Hu hu hu, of course she got mad. But if you know srilas' husband.... You'll know that the more annoyed srilas get the more excited he is, so he do it again and again and again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh somebody, help me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-2079913985717499326?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/2079913985717499326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=2079913985717499326&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2079913985717499326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2079913985717499326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/sayangku-cintaku-manisku-my-darling-my.html' title='Sayangku-Cintaku-Manisku (My Darling-My Love-My Honey)'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-2947558291897752183</id><published>2007-02-15T22:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-21T20:59:41.219-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='o Cilegonian Devil'/><title type='text'>Dear neighbors,</title><content type='html'>It's true that we don't stay at home so much. It's true that we're such a bad neighbor, we don't give enough effort to mingle with you. Looks like we love the companies too much 'til you can't meet us in the daylight. "But where are you on Saturday and Monday?", some of you ever asked me that question and I already told you, :"&gt; I'm sleeping while ams's working. Hi95x.&lt;br /&gt;We're sorry for being so anti-social. Still, that doesn't mean that you have to be so mean to us... Hu hu hu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That banana tree grew in your backyard but the leaves and the fruits are over our backyard. It was no problem with us to clean up its drying leaves that turned into a monster at night, waving its hands and rustling when the wind blew, disguising a man inside its shadow, hiiiii... But we didn't have any intention to clean up the fruits as well. We were glad that you picked them. But why oh why did you leave the remains of your tree at our backyard? You think it's a garbage dump?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we know that our fence is covered with ilalang. We've tried as best as we could to conquer the mighty ilalang but there hasn't been any significant result. We know it doesn't look nice. But why oh why you spoiled the view even more? Again, you think our fence-side is a garbage dump? Once, you leaved some coconut stalks there, and now you dump some dirt. WT*?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, for you... neighbors who don't have banana trees at your yard. It's fine for you to get some banana leaves from our backyard when you need to make lontong, arem-arem, pepes, etc, but please bring the stem along with the leave or else you should put the stem at some proper place, either our garbage dump or yours or other neighbors' if they don't mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, for you... who have childrens. We know we have some mural at our walls. Cute, ain't it? Po, Tingky-Wingky, Dipsy, Lala... they remind us of our joyful childhood. But, let us tell you here... our home is not a playground. Oh, don't blame us for having that mural. You know it's not us who painted it. Hey, don't get us wrong, we like children a lot, especially children who don't throw away some litters at our front yard.&lt;br /&gt;Okay okay... your children can play there. Your chicken and cats can play there, eat there, and do anything animals do, although it's so noisy when the cats do that thing... What??!!? It's fighting! :P&lt;br /&gt;For you who have the cats... Please do notice if one of your cat is missing. It's probably dead in our backyard :((. It's enough to use it as a playground, don't make it a resting place too. Oh, cat spirit... don't haunt us, don't you know that it is ams who bury you? We don't want to adopt your child as ours, so we leave your child outside, hoping somebody would take it, sorry... :((.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last but not least, our frontyard is not a place for gossiping, especially about your own neighbor, more specifically about a neighbor who want to sleep peacefully in the weekend, a neighbor who owns the frontyard. What? Sure it's me!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're completely aware that this place is not ours, we only rent it. But we think, it won't hurt you if you give us a little more respect and privacy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-2947558291897752183?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/2947558291897752183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=2947558291897752183&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2947558291897752183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2947558291897752183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/dear-neighbors.html' title='Dear neighbors,'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-5265081390301555569</id><published>2007-02-13T21:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T00:06:00.495-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><title type='text'>Special Name For Dearest One</title><content type='html'>Eeew, I almost vomit just writing that title... 'dearest one'? Huek... Who's that supposed to be? Of course ams :x.&lt;br /&gt;Ams and I are not a romantic couple. We hate being romantic. We often make fun of each other by being romantic, err.. correction: by pretend to be romantic. We're giggling everytime we saw (what supposed to be) romantic scene in the movies, specially in all those sinetron, and together we say, "Jadi malu sendiri" (help me with the translation here, guys... :P).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning Joey asked me, "what is ams exactly? Is it an abbreviation from some words?" Ooo,   not at all... I told Joey what 'ams' is, but I won't tell you here. If you're really want to know it, then ask me personally. Isn't it a big secret Joey? Hi95x.&lt;br /&gt;Joey's question leads me to my old idea about writing a series (of blog posting) about special name we used in our relationship. But that's not starting today.&lt;br /&gt;I'm writing this post just for the sake of Valentine day, 'dearest one' is soooo Valentine, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-5265081390301555569?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/5265081390301555569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=5265081390301555569&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/5265081390301555569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/5265081390301555569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/special-name-for-dearest-one.html' title='Special Name For Dearest One'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-6011406635283875470</id><published>2007-02-12T23:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-26T17:39:35.316-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pasutri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weekend'/><title type='text'>Pandeglang Trip and Kitchen Tragedy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Last weekend Ams and I roamed around Pandeglang by motorcycle. Our route was Cilegon – Serang – Pandeglang – Pari – Menes – Jipit - Labuan – Carita – Anyer – Cilegon; something like 200 km. Can you imagine how exhausted we were?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Too tired, I almost collapsed in our kitchen afterward.&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt; That night, we were too worn out to go buying some food but too hungry not to eat. There’re only one potato, three eggs, and cabbage in the fridge and inspired by the food we ate at alun-alun Pandeglang, siomay, I decided to made “siomay minus siomay” :P. I thought it was simple, just boiled all those stuffs and made the sauce. Turn out it was not that effortless because I made the peanut sauce from scratch. The heat, the hunger, the despair made me so weak, I yelled, “Ams!! I cannot take it anymore. Go wait for this potato’s done by yourself, I need to lay down.” He was doing a schedule that must be delivered immediately but he hustled going to the kitchen because he wouldn’t mess up with a hungry srilas. O yeah, she’ll be as sensitive as girls on their PMS. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He he, I made the food voluntarily at first but as my clothes became wet from my sweat and seeing ams stayed cool while doing something with the computer (I doubt he was doing the schedule, but I was wrong :P), I thought, “hu hu hu it’s so unfair… this sacrifice is just too much.” So I yelled again, “Oh, I won’t even eat it!!”&lt;br /&gt;I was so sleepy at the same time. It was no longer my eating hour, 10 PM, and usually at 10 PM I tend to ignore the hunger and try to sleep instead. But as he started eating I crept out of the bedroom and said, “May I eat one egg, please?” Here I tell you the fact: need only one egg to tame the hungry srilas hi95x.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;About the trip itself… there’s a mountain that caught my interest. It’s just a small mountain, or maybe it’s just a hill, a big one. The forest on its side is pretty thick. There’s no sign of people track, even though at its base there’re some villages with beautiful terraced rice field. I hardly believe there’s such place in Java. People cut down all the trees typically.&lt;br /&gt;Is it a conservation area then? Does the rhino live there? Oh no no, it’s not Ujung Kulon :P, or some tigers maybe? Or is it a sacred place… a place where some spirits live… Uuuuu, uuuu… the mist that covered its top made it even scarier.&lt;/p&gt;We brought nothing from the trip, although there were lot of manggis displayed along the way, together with some durian, petai, banana and cempedak. Durian at Cilegon was disappearing but we still could find it in a large quantity at Pandeglang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- cold day, the sound of my empty mind -&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-6011406635283875470?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/6011406635283875470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=6011406635283875470&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/6011406635283875470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/6011406635283875470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/pandeglang-trip-and-kitchen-tragedy.html' title='Pandeglang Trip and Kitchen Tragedy'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-2609557085169107158</id><published>2007-02-09T00:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T01:22:27.519-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><title type='text'>Loser</title><content type='html'>It's &lt;a href="http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/archives/009002.html"&gt;overheard in New York&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Frat boy #1: Dude, when do you graduate?&lt;br /&gt;Frat boy #2: Like, next year, man.&lt;br /&gt;Frat boy #1: How long have you been in school, man? Like, five years, right?&lt;br /&gt;Frat boy #2: Anyone that leaves college in less than five years is a loser. It's like someone who leaves the party at 10:30 -- things are just getting started!&lt;/blockquote&gt;He95x. I'm not a loser! Are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw, I really want to have that kind of blog... but overheard in Cilegon? It's just a small city and I'm not moving about so much here.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, what about &lt;a href="http://www.overheardintheoffice.com/"&gt;overheard in the office&lt;/a&gt;? Won't work too... Hi hi hi, there're only two person in the IT room, that's including me. Maybe I'll overhear lot of interesting stuffs if I do what my general manager suggested. One day he asked me, "Why are you always stay in your room? Don't you get bored?" ...grumble, grumble, grumble inside but big smile on my face. He told me then, "You should wander around the factory sometimes". Oh! He just doesn't know that I'm wandering at a bigger world than the factory, :P.&lt;br /&gt;Actually I've ever tried to stay in the coating area, I was looking around and thinking, "What is this? I know nothing about this. Okay, I should ask someone". Then I asked my friend, "What is that (...black, greasy, dirty...) thing right there doing?". Not a word from his mouth, only a frown. He was looking at me as if I was a creature from outer space, not an intelligent one. So, next time I go there again and also to other areas in the factory, I'll make sure I already have a degree or certificate or whatever on mechanical thing, I'll only be a dummy otherwise :|.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, maybe I should create &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;overheard at home&lt;/span&gt;, :D. It will contain the conversation between me and ams, me and myself, me and things he95x....... sounds interesting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- clear afternoon, sound of the uncoiler -&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-2609557085169107158?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/2609557085169107158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=2609557085169107158&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2609557085169107158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/2609557085169107158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/loser.html' title='Loser'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1398959180923669466.post-1121007967180270044</id><published>2007-02-08T03:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T00:06:39.867-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><title type='text'>FAQ</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Why a new blog?&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As I mentioned in my &lt;a href="http://blabla.blogs.friendster.com/"&gt;previous blog&lt;/a&gt; I want to have a blog with a layout I can play with. I’m a “tableless geek” wannabe 8-}.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Why do you decide to use the same blog service as the one you used a long time ago?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I take Joey's recommendation. In Joey we trust.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;So, why don’t you just update your old blog?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I feel that my old blog is just like my worn-out clothes. I don’t want to throw them away from my closet, yet I don’t want to wear them anymore because… well, because they’re just too old.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Why srilas?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Why do you use ‘i_lalang’ as your yahoo-id?” just before I created this blog a colleague of mine asked. I just smiled. Actually I’m kind of bored with that question. Years ago I might answer, “I don’t know… I just picked out the id from my friend’s suggestion”. The friend here is Hilda. Just about a week before I created a yahoo mail id, we, Hilda and I, went for a walk at some plain covered with ilalang. We thought it was beautiful… Well, I always think that spread of blooming ilalang is beautiful unless it’s in my own lawn :P. But I didn’t choose i_lalang because of that reason, simply have no other idea, that’s all.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Same thing here. Before I created this blog, I was chatting with &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Gary&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; about an actor I like recently, Silas Weir Mitchell. He’s the actor who plays the role Haywire at Prison Break. I wondered if he’s a real wacko or he just acts really really good for that role. I read from imdb that he’s a smart and hilarious person so I think he must be a real good actor. Better than Wentworth Miller :P. Hi hi, come on girls, don’t be mad at me… &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The name Silas is very familiar to us, Gary and me, because we liked to talk about the role Silas in Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code. &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Gary&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; has a big sympathy for him while I don’t :P. Apparently it bothered her so much…. she named me srilas then &lt;span style="font-family:Wingdings;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;:|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So, when blogger asked me what blog name I will use and after three attempts are failed… once the name srilas came across my mind I just typed it and I clicked continue… et voila… &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;srilas.blogspot.com&lt;/span&gt;. Remember it, add it to your google reader, bookmark it, set it as the homepage of all your browsers, tattoo it on your skin--specially you... Wenworth Miller fans or Guy Pearce fans--, spell it three times a day, paint it on your walls, and… update your link to my blog…. wait,  I don’t think there’s somebody out there willing to link their blog to mine hu hu hu. O yeah… only a couple of great persons do that ;) thank you….:P&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Yeah, srilas.blogspot.com… be quite, I can read your mind! But no worry, I also think that that URL sounds ridiculous&lt;span style="font-family:Wingdings;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Grrr… &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Gary&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;!!! I swear I’ll mention your name a lot here and it will always with a nasty grin at my face every time I type your name.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;Now that I’ve explained it to you, don’t you ever ask me why I choose srilas…. or i_lalang.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;You said you want to play with the layout, so why do you still use a template?&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That's a tough one... All I can say is... just wait and see. Although you probably must wait for a very long time :P.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;Are you an English native speaker?&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;Certainly not... :P So, feel free to give some correction about my language :"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;- night, the sound of cricket and frog -&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1398959180923669466-1121007967180270044?l=srilas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/feeds/1121007967180270044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1398959180923669466&amp;postID=1121007967180270044&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/1121007967180270044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1398959180923669466/posts/default/1121007967180270044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://srilas.blogspot.com/2007/02/faq.html' title='FAQ'/><author><name>js</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10470542111903563079</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
