https://www.online-literature.com/forums/blog.php?1961-Just-Babbling The largest classic literature discussion forum on the Internet. Read Write Teach Share. en Thu, 04 Jun 2026 19:54:10 GMT vBulletin 10 https://www.online-literature.com/forums/images/misc/rss.jpg https://www.online-literature.com/forums/blog.php?1961-Just-Babbling https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7527-My-butt Thu, 19 Feb 2009 14:41:55 GMT hurts!

I'm taking a week off from work and for the last few days, I've been spending my time at my couch reading and litenetting. I think I've spent 10 to 12 hours in average per day. In a way, it's been great. In my regular days, work dominates my entire day. Sometimes I spent more than 10 hours at work, went home, cooked dinner (sometime), watched a little news, read an hour and two (if I still had the energy), then went to sleep. When I'm out traveling, the days were worst but fun. Worst because I'd generally only have 4-5 hours of sleep and fun because some hours would be spent outside, having decent chats with Bulmers or cocktails. I almost forgot how it feels to spend hours turning pages and rubbing my eyes once in a while. And I also almost forgot how amazingly enjoyable it is to be 'around' the freakin' cool Litenetters :D :D.
I luv ya all! ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7527-My-butt https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7336-Hanging-out-with-Chava Fri, 30 Jan 2009 22:00:29 GMT was awesome! Cozy place Lovely conversation Fine double shot cappuccino with soy milk Totally rocks! :thumbs_up was awesome!

Cozy place
Lovely conversation
Fine double shot cappuccino with soy milk


Totally rocks!

:thumbs_up ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7336-Hanging-out-with-Chava https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7296-Running-nose Sun, 25 Jan 2009 14:17:36 GMT :sick: As advised by Parapyshology articles and blogs ... :sick:
As advised by Parapyshology articles and blogs
[URL="http://www.mind-energy.net/archives/90-Get-rid-of-stuffed-or-running-nose-without-drugs.html"]http://www.mind-energy.net/archives/90-Get-rid-of-stuffed-or-running-nose-without-drugs.html[/URL]

A. Perform the below routine 3 times:
1. Perform 10 pressures on a cavity at the corner of the nostrils (point 1). You should almost close and open the nostrils when you do the round movement.
2. Perform 10 pressures on a cavity just below the corner of the eyes near the nose (point 2)
3. Perform 10 pressures on a cavity just below the ear, behind the earlobe (point 3)
4. Massage the earlobe 10 times (point 4)

B. After performing the above 3 times, you should feel immediate relief of your nasal congestion. It is advised to return on the above procedure again in about 10 minutes to make it more permanent or the congestion could return.

Additional instructions: The pressures are actually round movement.



OK.....Let see.... ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7296-Running-nose https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7284-Polly-Pocket Fri, 23 Jan 2009 20:27:08 GMT The English lads whom I worked with for couple of weeks gave me a nick name: Polly Pocket!

Reasons
1. Because they think I'm cute :blush: (so they said, but I guess it's just so that I'll help him more hehehe)...
2. Because I'm small. Every time they talked about my height, they always talked as if I were the smallest girl on planet earth :sick:...But I think there are smaller females than me.


It's funny that some nick names don't even related to the actual names or the description/personality of the person itself. For example

-My friend, Richard, his nickname is Freddie

He's English and they say it's common for someone named Richard to be called Freddie :idea:..

I also don't know why William can be Bill..

But I like the new nick name...
I'm not blonde though :p

[IMG]http://www.kids-birthday-party-guide.com/images/polly-pocket.jpg[/IMG] ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7284-Polly-Pocket https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7265-Soup-van Wed, 21 Jan 2009 20:25:46 GMT When I was in New York, I had this chance to ride with the soup van. You know, that sort of van that drives around the city, distributing free food... When I was in New York, I had this chance to ride with the soup van. You know, that sort of van that drives around the city, distributing free food to homeless and poor.

That night the van I was in served the Bronx. I was in town for more than a week, but never been to that area. We passed the bridge, I saw the big bright stadium. I heard alot about Bronx, not really nice ones. When I saw that stadium, I thought the area couldn't be that bad. Well, I supppose the stadium was the only nicest thing I seen, least compare to the places I saw afterwards.

I suppose Bronx is more like the industrial area (don't know much about it). Felt gloomy as we drove by. At some point, the van stopped. We got down, I hardly see anyone. But then the guy who drove the van honked the horn couple of times. Like a church bell calling the congregation to come, suddenly I saw people coming, not sure from nowhere. They started to make lines behind the van. My job was to distribute the plastic bag for them. Each got one plastic bag, each will get a small loaf of bread, a mini-milk, an orange, and soup in little styrofoam bowl.
That was my first time. I was bit nervous, scared too to be very honest. Some staring at me, loooking at me with this look. Some smiled, said how are you, and said thank you. We had to limit the number because we needed to do more stops. We had to make sure we had enough for all stops.

They said, due to the financial crisis, they have to lessen the stops and routes. Before, they could have up to 5 stops. But since the economy got hit, they had to reduce the numbers. One time, not enough food in the van and the guys decided to collect some money and bought burgers from McDonalds for the next stops.

This experience gave me a deep impression about America. I know there are poor people too in the States. Sounds very naive, perhaps, but I wouldn't expect to have so many people lining up for food. There might pro and con about this (they are actually not that poor, etc). It's really an irony for me as it wouldn't be as surprising if I were doing it back home in Indonesia. Guess, when you see poverty every day, you'd get immune to the feeling and would start to consider that as a part of your life reality. But coming from developing country, with all this perception about USA as the world's super power, made this experience an unforgetable one. ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7265-Soup-van https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7260-Neighbours Wed, 21 Jan 2009 11:14:02 GMT I live in 6 floors apartment building, 2 apartments in each floor (I live in the 1st floor, that would be 2nd floor for the almost the rest of the... I live in 6 floors apartment building, 2 apartments in each floor (I live in the 1st floor, that would be 2nd floor for the almost the rest of the world, I think). So, roughly, at least I have 11 neighbours in this building.

My next door neighbour is a middle-aged woman. I think she lives by herself. I met her face to face twice and see her from the back once. First encounter was about 2 weeks after I moved in. I met her downstair while the mover came to deliver my boxes. She said, 'hi'. And I said, 'hi, nice to meet you'. The second time was when I got locked out of my apartment (I hate the way they set up locks here!). Me and my friend made quite a lot of noises that she went out to she what was going on. It was snowing outside, I was in my pajamas, with no proper shoes and coats, I had to walk to my office to get my spare key. And the last time I saw her was when I was standing by my window and I saw her walking with bag, going for Christmas holiday.

The other neighbour is the man living upstair. I suppose he works in shifts, because there were those mornings when he would woke me up with his heavy shoes (which was quite annoying because my alarm clock was not set to be that early). I so desperately wanted to see his face that once I heard him closed his door and walked down stairs, I ran to my window to see him. Yet I could only see his back. Sometimes I don't hear footsteps in the morning. I suppose he has a family as I sometimes hear little steps running around. It couldn't be his.

There's a young girl living upstairs too.

There's a black tall guy living upstairs too. He said hi to me once. Haven't see him again since.

The Wendeborg downstairs, whom I never seen for months.

There is a couple who lives behind my building. Most of the time I saw the window with the curtain on and off, sometimes within few mins, yet I always missed the person.

Back home in Indonesia, people in your neighbourhood know each other. When I say neighbourhood, it means, an area covering more than 300 houses. You may not everyone's name, but you can be sure that you recognize the face. If you send a letter with incomplete address, it will still get thru, because the postman can just easliy ask anyone in the neighbourhood and someone will tell him right away, which house that he needs to go to.

In Indonesia, housewifes in most of the neighbourhoods, will meet once in a month to have food together and share stories. True, it can be annoying sometimes, esp. when you just want others to mind their own bussiness. Yet, there are those times where minding other people's problems is the best way to get and give help.

I fell like knocking on next door neighbour, just to say hi and give her a box of Irish chocolate I bought in Dublin. She may like it or not. I'll never know where it's going to lead me after. Yet, I suppose I'll just do it. ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7260-Neighbours https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7237-Woosshh Sun, 18 Jan 2009 20:40:15 GMT I can only exhale. Deeply exhale. I can only put on a smile and a little laughter. Remembering the young blood. It’s always been very easy for me... I can only exhale. Deeply exhale.

I can only put on a smile and a little laughter. Remembering the young blood. It’s always been very easy for me to fall in to the trap of false feelings, innudendos, fatal unapproriate attraction, but not with an 18 years old. Did I miss the train of youth, the crazy and daring exciting life of the young blood? Perhaps, I did.

My short but lovely experience with this very lovely young lad, brought me to the memory of my own youth. Exciting in its own way, but this lovely young creature simply sparked again the idea of, perhaps, the lack of self fulfilling youth. And this expectation creates an exciting rush in my veins. I’m in my full conciousness that' this is purely the apple of my lust and with the sky as my witness, nothing in my head that says, ‘I hit my jackpot’.

I miss him. I want him in his childlike ignorance, one who cares only for beers, parties, and girls. I fancy him for his youth, in his adorable manner. ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7237-Woosshh https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?413-I-Am-The-Sea Sun, 18 Feb 2007 23:43:32 GMT [I]Faint not—fight on!
Tomorrow comes the song.[/I] — Babcock

There's no reason to be discourage as for every question, there shall be answer.

I do not need to understand all. It doesn't really matter. There's no purpose to understand all.

Remove the doubts, then I'll see all more clearly. ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?413-I-Am-The-Sea https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?379-I-Am-The-Sea Mon, 12 Feb 2007 00:22:37 GMT You Nothing more Nothing less You

Nothing more

Nothing less ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?379-I-Am-The-Sea https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?67-I-Am-The-Sea Tue, 28 Nov 2006 06:06:18 GMT I shared the same flight with one of Indonesia's former presidents. It was quite shocking for me to see that he was not guarded at all. He only got 4 people in his group, him, the man who helped him with his wheelchair and two other assistances. They looked like ordinary civilians. Maybe it was because his nature. He's known for his eccentric style and comments, especially in how public officers should act. When we got out of the plane, I walked along the airport alley beside the group. Another shocking experience as none of his assistances told me to make distance. I walked close to them as if I was part of the group.

This is a picture of him when he was still in office .


[IMG]http://www.indonesiamedia.com/images/dec99/dec99cover-b.jpg[/IMG]



In the plane, there was also this local celebrity. She got more guards compare to the former first man!

Interesting.


Sub ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?67-I-Am-The-Sea https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?60-I-Am-The-Sea Mon, 20 Nov 2006 01:06:44 GMT I've been listening to this song over and over and I completely love the sense of encouragment stated in this song.
I sent it to a good friend of mine, and I wonder whether he'd get my point! ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?60-I-Am-The-Sea https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?4-I-Am-The-Sea Thu, 02 Nov 2006 23:47:45 GMT Let there be blog; and there's blog. ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?4-I-Am-The-Sea https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?2219-I-Am-The-Sea Thu, 02 Nov 2006 21:41:18 GMT [FONT=Garamond][COLOR=DarkGreen]Ignored, like an unwanted package
Left in the corner
Busied with their own noisy thought
And there I was
Confused by my own deafening thoughts
Tears showed what happened inside.

Ignored, like unused instrument
Kept in an old box up in the attic
Engaged with their own ambitious dreams
And there you were
Puzzled by your own pushy dreams
Laughter covered what happened inside.

Ignored, like an uninvited guest
Nobody said hello, not even a smile
Occupied with their own pointless conversations
And there we were
Bewildered by our own worthless chit-chats
Smile disguised what happened inside
Then suddenly it came to our notice,
We only needed to listen and paid attention for a second. [/COLOR] [/FONT] ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?2219-I-Am-The-Sea https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?2216-I-Am-The-Sea Thu, 02 Nov 2006 21:41:18 GMT [COLOR=SeaGreen][FONT=Courier New]
To be able to break all walls,
All doors
To walk the thorny path and survive
It sure is love, you proclaim.
To stand still,
Unmoved
Though the earth below quivers, shaking your feet
As if you’re standing on the thinnest ice
Waiting to shatter and sink you in
This must be love, you declare.
To keep on smiling
And say
Sweet encouraging words and genuine compassion
To maintain the daily good wishes
With the softest tone and friendliest gesture
Whilst in return,
Mute rejoinders are all you received
And clichés are the most precious thing
That you treasure
Such love…
And how you keep being human
When you’re feed to the grotesque lust of ignorance
And the imbecile neglecting manner
Which are dying to consume your humanity
And cast you away
With the most painful heart wound
That will take all your tears away
How to keep opening your heart
And wait… and wait
Is this really love?
You try to convince your self
What you feel and what you should not feel and should have feel
Or this is a simpleton’s ambition
To play the role of a hero
And hoping to stand with the highest self-satisfaction
When you receive the merriest standing ovation
When they roll down the curtain
And close the show[/FONT][/COLOR] ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?2216-I-Am-The-Sea https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?2174-I-Am-The-Sea Thu, 02 Nov 2006 21:41:18 GMT [FONT=Arial][COLOR=Indigo]He walked his feet on world grounds
From the steeps of Parthenon
To heavy streets of Bangkok
Lured by dreams and wonders
And he challenged his ego
Among fearless bikers of Vietnam
The warlords of buzzing streets
And with his two passionate eyes
Captured the smiles of the Malayans
And shared the cold air with the unknown Chinese old man
While they talked and smoked pipes in Shanghai’s most crowded alley
He, who rested his feet in his gloomy hometown near Liverpool,
Sat his soul on wooden chair at a cafe in Lyon
And just gazed at the world behind the glass, tired
Took his time, until Dubai called.

Memories recorded, memories wiped out
Few ones lingered
Like the cameos from some indistinguishable movies
Too many stories, unspoken narratives, concealed tales
One thousand and one revisited in one’s memory
He kept his paths
Remained in his solitude
Among the million faces and colorful skins he passed by
The virtuous nomad
Who longed for his secret island
Below his own sun[/COLOR][/FONT] ]]> subterranean https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?2174-I-Am-The-Sea