<?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-17825789</id><updated>2011-11-23T11:44:57.253+10:00</updated><title type='text'>a journey back home..........</title><subtitle type='html'>telah jauh engkau mengembara, menapaki jalan yang tak pernah dilalui oleh ayahmu, menyusun langkah yang tak pernah di ayunkan oleh ibumu...serpihan hati dan jiwa terpecah dan hancur, hingga kadang kau lupa dan lalai. Pulanglah ke pangkuan ibu mu, meresapi detak jantung nya, mengusap butiran keringat di keningnya, agar menyatu jiwa dan engkau akan melihat seorang manusia yang seutuhnya.

Engkau seperti hari, hanya ada hari ini sebab kemarin hanya mimpi dan esok adalah impian....</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-7498159891366369703</id><published>2009-05-01T17:14:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T17:33:05.263+10:00</updated><title type='text'>bahkan aku tak mengenalku sebaik Engkau</title><content type='html'>Duhai yang menggenggam jiwaku&lt;br /&gt;Duhai yang lebih dekat dari urat-urat dileherku&lt;br /&gt;Ampuni kebodohan dan ketakaburanku&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aku bahkan tak tau siapa aku ini sebenarnya&lt;br /&gt;Setiap yang terjadi dalam takdirku adalah milik-Mu&lt;br /&gt;Maka ampuni aku yang selalu ingin menggugat-Mu dengan protes-protes bodohku&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;masih banyak yang ingin ku sampaikan&lt;br /&gt;tapi tentunya Engkau tahu bahkan seratus ribu kali jumlahnya...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-7498159891366369703?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/7498159891366369703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=7498159891366369703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/7498159891366369703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/7498159891366369703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2009/05/bahkan-aku-tak-mengenalku-sebaik-engkau.html' title='bahkan aku tak mengenalku sebaik Engkau'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-843591131504966967</id><published>2008-07-06T20:04:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T02:49:44.024+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Use to be the best playground of my childhood</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SHCZjDkX5PI/AAAAAAAAAAs/0SeN05DBEdE/s1600-h/IMGP5992.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219840795654743282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SHCZjDkX5PI/AAAAAAAAAAs/0SeN05DBEdE/s400/IMGP5992.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-843591131504966967?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/843591131504966967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=843591131504966967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/843591131504966967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/843591131504966967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2008/07/use-to-be-best-playground-of-my.html' title='Use to be the best playground of my childhood'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SHCZjDkX5PI/AAAAAAAAAAs/0SeN05DBEdE/s72-c/IMGP5992.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-5985973580676063494</id><published>2008-06-13T15:12:00.004+10:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T02:49:44.224+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Neglected Tropical Diseases</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SFIEJ4HzF1I/AAAAAAAAAAk/EkZag01UO0E/s1600-h/BUNGA.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211232286551512914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SFIEJ4HzF1I/AAAAAAAAAAk/EkZag01UO0E/s400/BUNGA.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kita lahir didunia tidak pernah meminta untuk lahir dengan ketidaksempurnaan, apa lagi dengan suatu penyakit yang memberi tanda cacat seumur hidup kita. Kita lahir karena kehendak-Nya. Demikian juga dengan mereka yang tidak beruntung. yang menderita kusta dan menerima stigma seumur hidupnya bahkan anak keturunannya. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Indonesia urutan ketiga didunia untuk jumlah penderita kusta, terbanyak di Jawa Barat, Jawa Timur dan Sulawesi Selatan. tetapi keberadaan mereka masih jauh dari perhatian pemerintah maupun dunia internasional. Donor-donor kaya lebih cepat merogoh kantong mereka untuk HIV/AIDS atau Malaria ketimbang penyakit ini. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;WHO mengelompokkannya kedalam penyakit tropis terabaikan, tetapi sekarang bukan saatnya untuk mengabaikan kenyataan ini. karena semakin diabaikan bukannya semakin hilang dari peradaban malah semakin menggunung. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For all the neglected.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-5985973580676063494?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/5985973580676063494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=5985973580676063494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/5985973580676063494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/5985973580676063494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2008/06/neglected-tropical-diseases.html' title='Neglected Tropical Diseases'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SFIEJ4HzF1I/AAAAAAAAAAk/EkZag01UO0E/s72-c/BUNGA.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-9162956126570126369</id><published>2008-04-30T01:20:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T01:23:45.856+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Panggung Sandiwara</title><content type='html'>Malam ini aku menghadiri resepsi pernikahan seseorang yang belum pernah kulihat sebelumnya. Sebenarnya yang diundang bukan aku, tetapi karena yang mengundang adalah bekas teman sekantor, dan yang diundang tidak mau berangkat sendiri jadilah kami berdua menghadiri pesta. Ternyata yang berhajat adalah alumni salah satu sekolah tinggi yang beberapa waktu lalu heboh dengan peristiwa tragis dan memilukan, penyiksaan, aborsi, pemerkosaan hingga pembunuhan telah terjadi di sekolah berasrama ini.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Resepsi diawali dengan prosesi “militer”, beberapa pria muda berseragam putih – putih melakukan atraksi baris berbaris. Lama aku termenung melihat kesigapan para pemuda ini. keagungan adat budaya yang biasa kusaksikan pada pernikahan “orang biasa” tak nampak disini, terganti oleh ritual megah para alumni sekolah maut itu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ingatanku kembali melayang kebarisan peristiwa diawal tahun lalu. Setelah kematian salah seorang siswa, puluhan kasus lainpun mencuat kepermukaan, satu demi satu borok mengeluarkan bau busuk dan nanah, hancur tak bersisa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hentakan kaki para “prajurit” menyambar telingaku hingga aku kembali sadar bahwa prosesi ini cukup lama juga. Begitu anggun, mengarak kedua mempelai kesinggasananya. Beginikah semuanya berakhir? Apakah semua borok dan kusta itu sudah sembuh, sebersih ini, megah dan berseri, tanpa cacat tanpa masa lalu yang suram. Beginikah masyarakat ini memperlakukan calon pembesar ini, yang mungkin saja dimasa lalu merupakan bagian dari tradisi gila dan penyiksaan itu. Entah kenapa semua yang hadir seperti bangga dan tersenyum puas, mungkin karena pemuda itu adalah anak seorang pembesar disini atau mereka hanya pura-pura menikmati kebodohan ini. Andai saja roh Cliff Muntu datang dan mengacaukan pesta seperti di film-film horor. Andai saja bayi-bayi yang dipaksa mati oleh para siswi itu datang dan mencekik kami semua yang sedang menikmati makanan yang enak-enak ini. Andai saja …..ah kau itu, kenapa terlalu jauh berandai-andai. Bukankah semua orang sudah melupakannya? Yah iya sih… tapi kenapa terlalu mengedepankan kebodohan ini, seandainya saja dengan adat yang biasa saja seperti pernikahan orang biasa. Bukankah lebih sacral dan manis. Tetapi itulah masyarakat ini, yang penting adalah kulit dan permukaan, tak ada lagi rasa malu, tak ada lagi kesederhanaan dan dialog batin yang bijak untuk menyikapi segala peristiwa. Yang penting adalah anakku orang hebat. Calon lurah&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-9162956126570126369?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/9162956126570126369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=9162956126570126369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/9162956126570126369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/9162956126570126369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2008/04/panggung-sandiwara.html' title='Panggung Sandiwara'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-113278768533097382</id><published>2005-11-24T09:13:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T16:50:20.230+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Chasing Dreams...........</title><content type='html'>Take time to dream, it is the future made of (Ari Ginanjar Agustian)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way home i saw an incident that i have never experienced before. while speaking to an officer in the airport i heard something fall so hard behind me, and believe it or not it was a man who just got a heart attack due to a serious problem that made him went so panic. In a very short time the big guy went unconcious, bleeding on his mouth, and i assumed he'd died at that time. An officer who talked to him before came to see him and said that he just have lost his pasport and some important documents, that's why he was so upset running here and there searching for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Subhanallah....i assumed that he just said goodbye to his family and friends, leaving home for something important, looking forward for a succesful negotiation, and in the end maybe for a better lufe in the future. But in a minute all the dreams, the vision and everything that he could hope for vanished in the dark cloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreaming for something big and we can easily forget a little thing that might possibly have a big impact on us. Like this man, on the panic situation he probably forgot that he has a heart problem. But his dream make him forget about it, maybe different person has different priority in his or her life. but when it comes to chasing dream we might forget that we are human beings............may God forgive us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........hey now hey now don't dream it's over.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when was the last time you have a very strong determination to do everything that you wanted to accomplish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-113278768533097382?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/113278768533097382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=113278768533097382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113278768533097382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113278768533097382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/11/chasing-dreams.html' title='Chasing Dreams...........'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-113278703539984231</id><published>2005-11-24T09:01:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-11-24T09:03:55.410+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Music for Soul</title><content type='html'>alas to dust we shall retun&lt;br /&gt;the line grew short and came my turn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.eternalmultimedia.com/lastbreath/last.swf"&gt;for you who understand why we are here &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-113278703539984231?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/113278703539984231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=113278703539984231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113278703539984231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113278703539984231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/11/music-for-soul.html' title='Music for Soul'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-113235684905098829</id><published>2005-11-19T09:32:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T01:54:29.378+10:00</updated><title type='text'>...the journey back home</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffcc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Going out of my “home” was like stepping out of a big picture of my home and looking back into it. Staring into the picture for quite sometime, even though only from one angle, Australian angle, part of it looks ugly and another part looks even much more beautiful when I look it from here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;One and a half year is indeed a very short episode of my life, and I have to leave it. Part of me wants to stay a little longer because I really want to travel somewhere else outside this state and learn some other things, but another part of me misses home so badly until I keep calling home telling my mother that I’ll be home soon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I’m here in Australia when quite many hard tensions occur, and I just once wondered why on earth I have to be here, feeling scared and a little bit insecure. Then I went out… trying to figure out what life looks like in my closest neighbour’s home. My God… it is awesome!! (copying the words they often said), people saying sorry when they do something bad to other people even if it is ‘not so significant’, students study hard day and night. Fathers carry their kids on their shoulders and play in the parks. And if I see this my heart just say a little prayer, I wish I can see this in my home country. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;“Where are you from ?” asked a taxi driver, “I’m from Indonesia” I answered, “wow I’ve been there….it’s beautiful, but recently a lot of bad things happened hey, was there any of your relatives died in the Tsunami?”, “luckily no, because my families live in the eastern part of the country. From this short conversation a lot of questions occur in my head, what is in his mind about Indonesia? And then I went to an art center to see Rendra reciting his poets, a lot of Australian came to see him. Well here they are, they are Australian who see things differently, humanity is here, exists, right in front of you, where people look at you not because of your skin or the faith in your heart but because there is one thing in human beings that happens to be born in every skin color and every body shape, a universal value that you can find everywhere in the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Even though people say Australians drink till they get crazy, but I feel save here, I often had to stay until midnight to work on my assignment at the computer lab, and walked home on my own, holding my metal keychain (just in case someone attack me, keychain is bad enough to hurt someone’s face hahaha), but things that I’m afraid of have never happened to me, thank God. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I’ve learnt a lot, learn to accept and to be accepted, learn to be different and to see and appreciate different things, to understand the meaning of right and wrong from different values and different point of view. Learn to study hard, to stand on my own, to make my own decision, learn to have a strong determination to do the things that I believe (is it possible?). I’ve made friends with people from many different countries. I’m looking forward to see the next chapter of my life, indeed like an ancient Aboriginal proverb “We are all visitors to this time, this place. We are just passing through. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love... and then we return home." Maybe the meaning of ‘home’ in this sense is deeper than a building or a place where we were born or a place where our parents reside. And learning to grow up might even have a deeper meaning. So I do not have to be afraid to go home, going back to ‘reality’ as students often said. And indeed I’m not afraid. So never afraid to leave home and never afraid to go back home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffffcc;"&gt;“I want to make a difference, a worthwhile difference”&lt;br /&gt;Still learning to grow up&lt;br /&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-113235684905098829?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/113235684905098829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=113235684905098829' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113235684905098829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113235684905098829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/11/journey-back-home.html' title='...the journey back home'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-113229420007570882</id><published>2005-11-18T16:06:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-11-18T18:33:29.933+10:00</updated><title type='text'>if tomorrow never comes</title><content type='html'>i will regret that i do not post &lt;a href="http://www.rainews24.rai.it/ran24/inchiesta/video/fallujah_ING.wmv"&gt;this &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can you believe this&lt;br /&gt;who is the real terrorist&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-113229420007570882?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/113229420007570882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=113229420007570882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113229420007570882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113229420007570882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/11/if-tomorrow-never-comes.html' title='if tomorrow never comes'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-113171471129961977</id><published>2005-11-11T23:02:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T17:36:59.861+10:00</updated><title type='text'>For My Mom</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;"words are never enough for expressing my deepest gratitude, coz when you say my name &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;in your prayers, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;....nothing else matter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-113171471129961977?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/113171471129961977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=113171471129961977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113171471129961977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113171471129961977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/11/for-my-mom.html' title='For My Mom'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-113160296722342465</id><published>2005-11-10T15:58:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T16:11:34.236+10:00</updated><title type='text'>my DNA</title><content type='html'>okey, what i'm gonna do with this. maybe you want to know how did i get my DNA isolated?, i went to a workshop a couple of months ago and we were taught how to isolated DNA from living cells. as for practice we took our own DNA from cells inside out mouth (because mouth cavity is always wet so it is easier to obtain living cells).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i carry this with me all the time wondering what to do with this. i imagine cloning my self using this stuff and grow a copy of me. it is gonna be awesome because i can make "me" and i can tell her that she should be better that me, not to make mistake that i had made before, not to eat junk food (lol)......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but how can i be so sure that she gonna be better than me?, ok maybe because this new "me" is intentionally made, it may have a good result because i'm gonna raise her as to be a better "me", hahahaha but it's gonna be weird cos after i'm get older another 'me' grow up and later become me, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;will she die if i die? will God give her life? hmmmmmmmmm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok not now,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-113160296722342465?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/113160296722342465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=113160296722342465' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113160296722342465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113160296722342465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/11/my-dna.html' title='my DNA'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-113136874256235114</id><published>2005-11-07T22:59:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T23:05:42.570+10:00</updated><title type='text'>24/7</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;24 Hours in the Life of a Muslim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the Qur'an, Allah Himself responds to all the questions a person needs answered throughout his life and provides the perfect and most rational solutions for all problems that arise. As Allah says in the second verse of Surat al-Baqara, "That is the Book, without any doubt. It contains guidance for those who guard against evil." Other verses also show that our Lord has explained everything in the Qur'an:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There is instruction in their stories for people of intelligence. This is not a narration which has been invented but confirmation of all that came before, a clarification of everything, and a guidance and a mercy for people who believe. (Surah Yusuf: 111)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;… We have sent down the Book to you making all things clear and as guidance and mercy and good news for the Muslims. (Surah an-Nahl: 89)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;A person of faith orders his whole life according to the Qur'an and strives to apply carefully from day to day what he has read and learned in its verses. In everything he does from the moment he gets up in the morning until the time he falls asleep at night, he is intent on thinking, speaking and acting according to the teachings of the Qur'an. Allah shows in the Qur'an that this dedication dominates the whole life of a believer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Say: "My prayer and my rites, my living and my dying, are for Allah alone, the Lord of all the worlds." (Surat al-An'am: 162&lt;/strong&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;But some people think that religion is composed of rituals limited to certain times-that life is divided into times for prayer and other times. They think about Allah and the afterlife only when they pray, fast, give sadaqah or go on the pilgrimage to Makkah. At other times they are engrossed in the business of the world. Life in this world is for them an unpleasant rat-race. Such people are almost totally divorced from the Qur'an and have their own personal goals in life, their own understanding of morality, their own worldview and sense of values. The have no idea of what the teaching of the Qur'an really means.&lt;br /&gt;A person who adopts the teaching of the Qur'an and follows the Sunnah of the Messenger of Allah, may Allah bless him and grant him peace, as his principle of living will certainly live life quite differently from someone with this mentality. Such a person will not forget that he is subject to the destiny that Allah has decreed for him and will live his life trusting in, and submitting to, Him. Therefore, he will know that he must not be anxious, sad, fearful, worried, pessimistic or depressed; or overtaken by panic in the face of difficulties. He will meet everything that comes along in the way that Allah advises and approves. His every word, decision and action show that he lives according to the Sunnah which is the practical embodiment of the teaching of the Qur'an. Whether he is taking a walk, eating a meal, going to school, studying, working, playing sports, having a conversation, watching television or listening to music, he is aware that he is responsible for living his life according to the what is pleasing to Allah. He takes care of matters with which he has been entrusted meticulously and is concerned at the same time to win Allah's favour in the things he does. He never behaves in a way unbefitting the teaching of the Qur'an or contrary to the Sunnah. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living by the values of Islam is possible by applying the commands and advice given in the Qur'an to every aspect of life. This and the practice of the Sunnah is the only way that people can achieve the best and happiest results in this world and the next. Our Lord tells us in the Qur'an that a person can attain the best kind of life by doing right actions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Anyone who acts rightly, male or female, being a believer, We will give them a good life and We will recompense them according to the best of what they did. (Surat an-Nahl: 97)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;By Allah's will, living according to the teaching of the Qur'an and the Sunnah will enable people to develop a broad way of understanding, superior intelligence, the ability to distinguish right from wrong and the ability to consider a matter in depth. These characteristics will ensure that the person who possesses them will live every moment of his life in the ease that comes from these advantages. A person who lives his life in submission to Allah and according to the teaching of the Qur'an will be totally different from other people how he behaves, sits and walks, in his point of view and how he explains and interprets things, and in the solutions he finds for the problems that confront him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the basic differences between Muslims who live their lives according to the teachings of the Qur'an and those people who reject Allah. From the moment a believer wakes up in the morning, he knows that there is (as Allah calls them in the Qur'an), a "sign" in every experience he has in the course of a day. The word "sign" is given to those events in existence that are clear proofs of the existence, unity and the attributes of Allah-and it is also the name for a verse of the Qur'an. Another idea similar in meaning is "the facts that lead to faith." This may be defined as those facts that bring a person to faith, and at the same time cause faith to grow, develop and become strong. But only those who sincerely turn to Allah can recognise these "signs" and facts that lead to faith. The 190th verse of Surah Al 'Imran is an example of this:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In the creation of the heavens and the earth, and the alternation of night and day, there are Signs for people with intelligence. (Surah Al 'Imran: 190)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;A believer starting a new day thinks about these facts and thanks Allah for covering him with His great mercy and protection. He looks at the new day as an opportunity given him by Allah to win His pleasure and gain Paradise. The moment he opens his eyes in the morning of the early dawn, he directs his thoughts to Allah and begins the day with a sincere prayer, the dawn prayer of Islam.&lt;br /&gt;During the day, he acts with the knowledge that Allah is always watching him, and is careful to win His approval by obeying His commands and counsel. He established a close bond with Allah and began the day with the dawn prayer. In this way, the likelihood that he will forget Allah's good pleasure during the day or ignore His limits is small; he will behave throughout the day with the knowledge that Allah is testing him in this world.&lt;br /&gt;Someone who sincerely directs his thoughts to Allah will be helped to see that he must think carefully about the blessings he has been given and that no one other than Allah has the power to give them to him. In the Qur'an, our Lord says that people must ponder this matter:&lt;br /&gt;Say: &lt;strong&gt;"What do you think? If Allah took away your hearing and your sight and sealed up your hearts, what god is there, other than Allah, who could give them back to you?" (Surat al-An'am: 46)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Certainly it is the Almighty and All-Knowing Allah Who makes sleep a time of rest for human beings and restores His blessings to them in the morning. Those who know this feel Allah's proximity from the moment they begin their day and are pleased with the incomparable blessings they enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;Those who reject religion and refuse to consider this reality can never be fully aware of the blessings they have or know the joy that believers experience. Generally, early in the morning, they find it difficult to get out of a warm bed and are stressed by the anxiety of having to get into step with the new day. Some are anxious and depressed because of the things they have to do every morning. They don't want to get out of bed; there is a struggle in their minds between getting up and having one more minute of sleep. An often encountered moral failing in these kinds of people is that they are irritable, stressed and glum when they wake up.&lt;br /&gt;Godless people cannot enjoy the pleasure of Allah's blessings; from the moment they wake up in the morning they return to the monotony of doing the same things every day. There is another kind of person who is unaware that the new day may be the last opportunity Allah has given him: he prepares himself quickly to start his day avid to make more money, to show off to others with his possessions or appearance, to attract the attention of others and be liked.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who ignore the facts that Allah has revealed in the Qur'an may start their day in their own ways, but there is a common lack of wisdom in the way they behave: they do not consider that Allah created them, that they are responsible for serving Him and winning His approval and that the new day before them may be the last opportunity they have to fulfil their duty towards Him. Allah reveals their condition in these words: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mankind's Reckoning has drawn very close to them, yet they heedlessly turn away. (Surat al-Anbiya': 1) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;It is clear that those who live immersed in this great error have made a huge mistake. One must not forget that every morning may be the beginning of the last day allotted to one's earthly life. Death may come at any moment, because of a traffic accident, an unexpected disease or any one of countless other causes. In that case, as we said above, we must think about what we have to do to spend the day before us so as to win Allah's approval.&lt;br /&gt;People who have finished their breakfast and made themselves ready expect to have various challenges in their work places, schools and other areas. Most people have things they need to accomplish before the end of the day. Allah describes this situation in the Qur'an:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In the daytime much of your time is taken up by business matters. (Surat al-Muzzammil: 7)&lt;br /&gt;… He made the day a time for rising. (Surat al-Furqan: 47)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;A believer sees the day before him as an opportunity to win Allah's love and approval and to attain the Garden for which he needs to strive to do good works. No matter how busy he is, he is careful never to forget to seek Allah's approval. He takes as his example Sulayman (as)'s prayer, as recounted in the 19th verse of Surat an-Naml, desiring that our Lord will inspire him in the things he will do in the course of the day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"My Lord, keep me thankful for the blessing You have bestowed on me and on my parents, and keep me acting rightly, pleasing You, and admit me, by Your mercy, among Your slaves who are right-acting." (Surat an-Naml: 19)&lt;br /&gt;Everyone who leaves home on the way to school or work encounters many people, things and events to think about. Everything a person sees exists in Allah's knowledge and has come to be by His will and happens for a definite reason. So, when a believer looks up at the heavens with this in mind, he sees that they are marvellously created. He understands that the truth of the following verse is before his eyes: "We made the sky a preserved and protected roof …" (Surat al-Anbiya': 32)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;The sky's function as a "protected roof" comes from its atmosphere and this atmosphere surrounds the globe and performs its vital functions so that human beings survive. The atmosphere filters out rays that come from space and are dangerous for living things; it vaporises both large and small meteorites that approach the earth and prevents them from threatening the world and the creatures on it, and it protects the earth from the freezing temperatures-approximately minus 270 degrees Celsius-of space. Even if some people do not appreciate this as they should, Allah has created an ideal environment for us and protects us from threats that may come from the heavens.&lt;br /&gt;In the Qur'an, Allah reveals that a believer who observes the heaven will quickly understand the proofs that it is a most harmonious and perfect creation.&lt;br /&gt;Allah says in the Qur'an that there are signs in the creation of the heavens and the earth for those who observe them with faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Have they not looked at the sky above them: how We structured it and made it beautiful and how there are no fissures in it? And the earth: how We stretched it out and cast firmly embedded mountains onto it and caused luxuriant plants of every kind to grow in it, an instruction and a reminder for every penitent human being. (Surah Qaf: 6-8)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Until we go to sleep, during this time, a person is asleep with no connection to this world. His body and his spirit part company, and this time, during which he thinks he is sleeping, is actually a kind of death. Allah reveals in the Qur'an that human selves are taken while they are asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It is He Who takes you back to Himself at night, while knowing the things you perpetrate by day, and then wakes you up again, so that a specified term may be fulfilled. (Surat al-An'am: 60)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.harunyahya.com/kids/24hours2.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;http://www.harunyahya.com/kids/24hours2.html&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-113136874256235114?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/113136874256235114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=113136874256235114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113136874256235114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113136874256235114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/11/247.html' title='24/7'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-113136811575712723</id><published>2005-11-07T22:17:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T22:55:15.770+10:00</updated><title type='text'>OKEY</title><content type='html'>I woke up this morning, unlike every other morning when I jump out of bed and tell myself to finish all things I’ve planned to do, I just sat on the edge of my bed thinking and remembering all people who’ve came into my life. Everybody is important because every person is a big open book to be read, to be understood, learning to understand other people as well as learning to understand myself. Therefore everybody deserves a respect.&lt;br /&gt;Since I did not turn my computer off last night I directly come and sit here checking e-mails and visiting mailing lists.&lt;br /&gt;Milist, in here you virtually meet people, discussing, challenging each other’s ideas and even fighting. What for?, sometimes we hardly known each other and don’t know exactly what their lives look like.&lt;br /&gt; Some people might don’t have such a nice word when their express their thought simply because they lost words due to their tiredness of seeing other people’s behavior, people crawling and licking other people’s feet for a chair in corporate government, the rich deceiving the poor, the leader telling lies to their people. Wives cheating on their husbands, kids morally degraded. People who don’t have anymore nice words for us might represent the bitterness of our lives, because life seems to be more complicated in their world. However there are also others who are seeing lives from different angle until it becomes much more beautiful beyond words.&lt;br /&gt;In mailing list you are exposed to the world beyond our own, to the life outside our tiny little brain. Nobody is completely right or wrong because people have their evidence for backing up their opinion. But sometime people can be pretentious, and therefore it is not appropriate to say yes to people who say nice words and say no to those who can’t say nice things.&lt;br /&gt;Join as many mailing lists as you can as long as you have time to read e-mailJ, and if you reckon it is you may keep on joining, but if you don’t why do you have to put up with such a stupid thing in your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............CARPE DIEM............................&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-113136811575712723?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/113136811575712723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=113136811575712723' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113136811575712723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113136811575712723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/11/okey.html' title='OKEY'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-113127953006944912</id><published>2005-11-06T21:50:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-11-06T22:18:50.080+10:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm indeed scared</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3481/1728/1600/IMAG0529.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px" height="254" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3481/1728/320/IMAG0529.jpg" width="170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;rainwater strongly hitting the window&lt;br /&gt;i'm fascinated&lt;br /&gt;but i'm scared&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i watch the strong wind and storm through the window&lt;br /&gt;dragging dark cloud of the southern sky&lt;br /&gt;to the darkness in front of my soul&lt;br /&gt;i'm amazed&lt;br /&gt;but i'm scared&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;the frangipani flower fell down&lt;br /&gt;amongst the spike of rain&lt;br /&gt;falling down from the tree&lt;br /&gt;the white flower swollen&lt;br /&gt;lying hopelessly on the green grass&lt;br /&gt;i'm touched&lt;br /&gt;and i'm scared&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i confess&lt;br /&gt;i'm scared&lt;br /&gt;because all i can do is watch&lt;br /&gt;just watch&lt;br /&gt;the short episode of the cloudy afternoon&lt;br /&gt;i cannot change it&lt;br /&gt;i cannot help the frangipani to stay a little longer on the tree&lt;br /&gt;i cannot stop the sound of water hitting the window&lt;br /&gt;i cannot help the sky to be free from the darkness&lt;br /&gt;i cannot even help my self&lt;br /&gt;i can only see it&lt;br /&gt;i can only see it&lt;br /&gt;the short episode of sad dark afternoon&lt;br /&gt;because the night is falling&lt;br /&gt;turning the stage into a dark silent moment&lt;br /&gt;darkness that protects&lt;br /&gt;darkness that sincere&lt;br /&gt;silent that enlightening&lt;br /&gt;silent that inspiring&lt;br /&gt;silent that brought me into the world of dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i'm scared still......................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-113127953006944912?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/113127953006944912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=113127953006944912' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113127953006944912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113127953006944912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/11/im-indeed-scared.html' title='i&apos;m indeed scared'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-113080317454346188</id><published>2005-11-01T09:27:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-11-01T10:04:25.726+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear teachers...............</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;We give you our children - their clean, untouched souls, their eager minds. Nurture them; nourish them. They are our hopes, our future. Can you feel the weight of our trust? (Anonimous)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Prophet Muhammad once said:" those who teach others about usefull knowledge, God will teach them knowledge that they've never learnt before". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Being a teacher is an honorable occupation, because it is you who shape a nation, building a foundation for the geneations to come. You inspire people to be able to stand on their own, to cope with their difficulties, to rely on themselves. You guide them to be a better person as you yourself always try to be a better person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Kahlil Gibran also once said:"those who want to be a teacher must teach themselves before they teach others. Let them teach themselves by setting themselves as role models before they teach others with their words. Because those who teach themselves by redeeming themselves deserve more gratitude than those who teach others by critisizing other people's deeds".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Indeed, teaching other people is not only spreading the knowledge but also the wisdom of mankind. Smart people are not only the one who perform well at school, but what is the point if they do not respect other people, they shout to their parents, they tease their ugly friends, they do not express their gratitude for everything God has given to them. Kids do not know this kind of thing unless adult teach them to do so, and therefore because teachers are adult in the schools, it is better to act like one and guide them to understand what life looks like beyond their own body and soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;dear teachers....i'm proud of you, you are heroes without badges, but the rest of the world understand that it is you who shape this life.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-113080317454346188?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/113080317454346188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=113080317454346188' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113080317454346188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113080317454346188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/11/dear-teachers.html' title='Dear teachers...............'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-113183837027348426</id><published>2005-10-24T08:55:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T22:50:21.800+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Mr. Rumsfeld</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Quoting Mr. Rumsfeld's opinion on guantanamo detainees who refuse to eat:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"There are a number of people who go on a diet where they don't eat for a period and then go off of it at some point. And then they rotate and other people do that," &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;if it was a political rethoric, he has put himself in a position similar to dumb and dumber. How could he say that stupid word "diet" in a situation like this. He should have made up a more sensible respon that does not embarass american political leaders, by making the list of lies told by him and his fellow politicians much longer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm not rying to be nit-picking in this sense, but if people in such a situation refuse to eat, it must be an issue in that horrible place. For instance, moslems do eat pork, they should respect such thing by giving them proper food, cheap vegetarian dish would do better than meat (this is just my own thought). I'm not expecting those soldiers to treat them properly because it's just a dream that never come true (because they are all robot without heart and soul). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;But the thing is, i can't understand why American tax payers keep on doing this, paying taxs for the purpose of :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Buying weapons for war in Iraq&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Feeding Guantanamo detainees&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Giving hi-salary to Mr. "beating around the" BUSH and his "smart and honest" friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Supporting young american soldiers who will soon die for oil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Back to Mr. Rumsfeld, please do not assume that people do not know what are you trying to explain. You are not smart enough to fool people, because they know that you are a liar. do not assume that what you said about WMD has been forgotten. once you said X and the next day you said Y. Hmmmm if you think people forget it, your guardian angels keep a neat and tidy record of your deeds, for sure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-113183837027348426?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/113183837027348426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=113183837027348426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113183837027348426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/113183837027348426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/stupid-mr-rumsfeld.html' title='Stupid Mr. Rumsfeld'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-112989706322540732</id><published>2005-10-21T21:46:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-21T22:17:43.233+10:00</updated><title type='text'>The V* Monologues</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;it's all out of curiousity so i bought a ticket to attend a special performance, a monologue. If you are familiar with theatre and art performance you'd understand the thing that i'm referring to as V*.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;Ok, it's all weird because the artists spoke very frankly about it, to me they simply trying to reclaiming their existence as female. that's it...!!! in fact the reality out there is often shocking as they said, some of the experience are very close to us and some are painful beyond belief and you do not even think that human beings could do those things.  the point is human beings are often abused simply because they are women!!.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;things i like most is the idea of making people realize that  there is something in women that should be appreciated as the way it should be. I can't speak frankly about it (even mention its name) because i feel like it's not me. this kind of performance is a way of developing maturity of our society to thin about who they are, and where they come from. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;empty, meaningless, you often think of it as nothing and everything at the same time. hmmmmmmmm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;things that i really don't like is the way they force other people to believe in what they think as right. in fact it is totally wrong.  Because as they try to explain the importance of being women the way they try to tell people about their gender showing the opposite aim of the former objective. confuse ?, ok you try to tell people that you need to be respected as an independent human being but at the same time you act as if you want to be disrespected... how would they respect you feminism if you do not respect your own feminism.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;they said the story was based on the true story through interviewing women from many different background, but one thing they missed out they did not interviewed female moslem scholars!!!, weird ha?? oh yes indeed. and therefore all their story are far from complite because they did not embrace all part of the V* society with their own different value of life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;they do not know that feminism in islam is far too good, respectable, genuine and full of grace and kindness. they do not know that women have special and heavenly place in God's law. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;i wish you all know about it, anyhow you are all great artists but not good enough to convince me that you can protect women's body and soul by doing this without any touch of God's value. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;goodluck ................&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663333;"&gt;Love your body, do not fix it cause it was never broken (&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Eve Eastner&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-112989706322540732?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/112989706322540732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=112989706322540732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112989706322540732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112989706322540732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/v-monologues.html' title='The V* Monologues'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-112971179905703838</id><published>2005-10-19T18:28:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T22:13:32.523+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Home............</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;i went to the airport this afternoon, farewelling my friend (my ex-housemate for two months) na'im and her husband who's going back home to Indonesia. to be honest everytime i go there i miss home so badly and i can't wait to be home again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Where is home............in a building where we were born?, i remember the quotation she wrote in miling list : &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff99;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"We are all visitors to this time, this place. We are just passing through. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love... and then we return home." (Australian Aboriginal Proverb)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;oh God, we've been wandering through this life for years, from small villages through to big cities, what are we looking for... and what should we take home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;we left our heart here and there, we meet people with their happiness and sorrow. we learn to live and to depend on ourselves. we learn to help others and sometimes without realising we hurt others. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;we learn to grow up................&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;selamat jalan na'im, sahabat yang bijak&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-112971179905703838?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/112971179905703838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=112971179905703838' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112971179905703838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112971179905703838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/going-home.html' title='Going Home............'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-112948250122959749</id><published>2005-10-17T02:38:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-21T17:32:14.270+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Rendra &amp; Tom Stoddart</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;Rendra, he performed this afternoon in Power House Art Center in the city, reciting his poems accompanied by his wife and Sawung jabo (finally i met him!!!, great mucisian). Poetry,.... a language of heart and soul, is the piece of artwork that i can not enjoy wholeheartedly, sometime i can let myself truly involve in the beauty of rhyme and lines and other time i can't bear the "openness" of poetry. In fact some of his poets are excellent and some are rubbish!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;Why do people write poems, well.......sometimes romanticism just happen to born in our heart when we feel something extraordinary, happy, sad or simply expressing our gratitude for God's blessings. But to me, there are experience that should NOT be exposed by pens and paper which in turn should NOT be read in public. The secrect of "secret experiences" should be remain the secret of heart and soul. Secret that must never ever be revealed because God loves it to remain a secret between Himself and "the dreamers". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;Anyway, maybe it is me who interpret his poems in this way, because to me, a poet is the art of languange and should not be disgraced. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;.......and tonight, i came home with a dizziness in my head and i directky went to sleep and wake up in the middle of the night. &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; happen to be browsing the blogs until i came accros a blog that provide a link to artworks of Tom Stoddart, a photojournalist. I truly believe that pictures speak louder that the loudest voice on earth, and suddenly i feel so scared and my gut is like spinning around. God...if we human beings are created with Your love, then why do we don't care about each other. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;Utopia..........this word resounds many times in my head as i see the slide show back and forth. why on earth people do not try to search their existence as human being. Human beings who claim themselves as the most civilised society seems to be the most unciviliced human beings in this world. and we........Human beings .........starving ..........not only our body but also our soul. starving to wait for a helping hand. who's hand...?, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;"you live your life like animal so you die like animal, you live your life like a human being so you die like a human being"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;in the counry of Purple Jacaranda, October 17th 2005&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-112948250122959749?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/112948250122959749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=112948250122959749' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112948250122959749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112948250122959749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/rendra-tom-stoddart.html' title='Rendra &amp; Tom Stoddart'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-112935940088310372</id><published>2005-10-15T16:56:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T07:35:56.630+10:00</updated><title type='text'>UCI</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3481/1728/1600/uci-31.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3481/1728/320/uci-31.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Uci is the first granddaughter of my mom and dad, cos, before her all are boys. She's pretty and smart, you don't need to teach her twice things like math and science and she the best in remembering things like in the social science and religion. But sometimes she can be a bit hard to herself especialy in the morning when she has to go to school early she often refuse to take her breakfast. hmmmmmmmm,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;after her, i also got some other nieces, Fifi and then Ita, ... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;I do not know how's life would be, but one thing to remember, keep learning, you are arrows that are going to fly to the unknown place called future. life could be not as easy as at home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;i wish you all the best..........your auntie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-112935940088310372?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/112935940088310372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=112935940088310372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112935940088310372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112935940088310372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/uci.html' title='UCI'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-112935933051708624</id><published>2005-10-15T16:55:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T07:41:03.703+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Afifah</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/40/8326/640/IMAG1810.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/40/8326/200/IMAG1810.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afifah is the only girl in my brother's family, she's a bit different from my other talkative nieces. She's calm and quiet, that's why we call her ibu... hehehe. but never ever try to tease her, she can be ..........(can't find any words to explain). ............Love you Fifi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your auntie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bibi i'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-112935933051708624?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/112935933051708624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=112935933051708624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112935933051708624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112935933051708624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/afifah.html' title='Afifah'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-112935923256699620</id><published>2005-10-15T16:53:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T07:49:43.450+10:00</updated><title type='text'>ITA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/40/8326/640/IMAG1812.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/40/8326/200/IMAG1812.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;ita, she is one of a kind.......be with me in this!!!, i remember when my dad was sick, she was the only kid who close to him and fed him and suprisingly my dad who was a bit difficult to be fed could easily eat when ita with him.......hmmmmmmm my lovely little Ita.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;i wish you all the best sweetheart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;bibi i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-112935923256699620?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/112935923256699620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=112935923256699620' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112935923256699620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112935923256699620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/ita.html' title='ITA'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-112930197177346652</id><published>2005-10-15T00:47:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-15T00:59:31.776+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Super Duper stupid of me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"&gt;am i....?, don't know exactly, maybe i just misunderstood things they said. Well maybe because we were raised in different culture and language, their jokes sometimes are not funny at all (to me, but they lough out loud at it...whewww), or things they said just weird and don't make any sense. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"&gt;Yesterday i supposed to be seeing someone because ..(i can't say he or she, cos .. is an important person in my life, at least for now) said i can see ... at this time. then i went there, .. was not at ... office, ... colleague said .. is out for a week. OK, so why did .. said that i could see.. at this time?, weird ha...well i just say this because people in this place like to keep their words. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"&gt;So i assume that i just have to look back into my self, my understanding of culture and human beings. Because, i just have to learn to do this, failing to do so will cause lots of trouble in my future life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"&gt;ok broer, i'm still learning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-112930197177346652?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/112930197177346652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=112930197177346652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112930197177346652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112930197177346652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/super-duper-stupid-of-me.html' title='Super Duper stupid of me'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-112925494075966049</id><published>2005-10-14T11:43:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-14T11:58:22.260+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Beauty Tips</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;For attaractive lips, speak words of kindness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;For lovely eyes, seek out good things in people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;For slim figure, share your food with the hungry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;For beatiful hair, let children run their fingers through it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;For Poise, walk with knowledge that you will never walk alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;People even more things, have to be restored, renewed, redeemed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;Never throw out anybody&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;Remember if you need a helping hand you'll find one at the end of your arm, as you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands one for helping yourself and the other for helping others&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330000;"&gt;The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figures that she carries or the way she combs her hair, the beauty of a woman must be seen from her eyes because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides, and the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul and with passing years; only grows..................&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#330000;"&gt;(thanks to a friend who e-mailed me this lovely quotes, i wish you all the best.................)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-112925494075966049?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/112925494075966049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=112925494075966049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112925494075966049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112925494075966049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/beauty-tips.html' title='Beauty Tips'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-112925398382534339</id><published>2005-10-14T11:29:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T15:11:00.270+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Where i belong</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;dedicated to Marwah Mappangara....................&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;Here i stand in the northern rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;and i can't believe i'm home again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;and i can't believe how nothing's change&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;i'm finding my way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;Old park bench where i carved my name&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;but now it doesn't stand alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;cause now the trees are overgrown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;many of road that i've travelled &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;that's led me astray&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;here's where my heart gonna stay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;this is where i belong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;this is where i come from&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;no need to shed my tears or face my fears anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;so i won't walk alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;taking things on my own &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;all or the land i've roamed &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;memories of my home &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;they keep beating strong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;this is where i belong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;this is where i belong-Boyzone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;(this is a song that reminds me with my best friend, a friend in my happiness and sorrow, a friend who look me at heart and soul, a friend who's always there with her warm hand to hold mine, because when you hold your friend's hand you give him/her a peace of mind as the way he/she give you a peace of mind)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-112925398382534339?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/112925398382534339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=112925398382534339' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112925398382534339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112925398382534339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/where-i-belong.html' title='Where i belong'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-112924770337518613</id><published>2005-10-14T09:29:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T22:10:40.140+10:00</updated><title type='text'>a letter to you</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffffcc;"&gt;i still remember&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in every afternoon when you came home from school, you asked me to put off your shoes and then i just digged your pocket to find some money. I always got it because i knew you always have it even without you told me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i still remember when i was five or six years old when we went to the garden, you carried me on your shoulder, then your walked into the river and taught how to swim, and i did it, and you were so happy for me. you always there when i was afraid of the deep water, but i knew there was your hand to reached out for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i also realised that you've inspired me, not only by words but by the things you had done. This is actually a strong foundation you provided for me, that enables me to feel strong enough tostand on my own feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;until one early morning when i was to leave home, i hold you tighly, kissing your hand and foot and shed your tears away...not knowing it would be for the last time, until you leave us forever.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i found myself a new blind in a strange.............but i remember you ...who always be strong in every storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i realised that you were lonely because most when we grew up we left you to make or own world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;day after day have gone without you and i miss you beyond words. what i miss most is time long ago when you were always there with us in every single problem, we knew we count on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now my life is a bit complicated, people coming into my life, some left happy memories in my heart, others just taking me for granted. But i know i must be strong becuase you taught me to be strong. You know what i got lots of new friend everyday and they are so nice to me.................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;( in a memory of my father)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya Allah, semoga Engkau memberinya tempat yang baik disisi-Mu, Amiin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-112924770337518613?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/112924770337518613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=112924770337518613' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112924770337518613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112924770337518613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/letter-to-you.html' title='a letter to you'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17825789.post-112924594824645400</id><published>2005-10-14T09:19:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-19T12:37:40.046+10:00</updated><title type='text'>i know............</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;i know that my destiny has been defined, and therefore i have a peace of mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;i know no one else will do my jobs, so i keep myself busy doing it by myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;i know God always look at me, and i will be ashamed if He finds me doing wrong &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;i know my death is waiting for me, so i prepare myself to meet Him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;(Ari Ginanjar Agustian's ESQ)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;www.makepovertyhistory.org.au&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17825789-112924594824645400?l=menantikepulangan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/feeds/112924594824645400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17825789&amp;postID=112924594824645400' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112924594824645400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17825789/posts/default/112924594824645400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://menantikepulangan.blogspot.com/2005/10/i-know.html' title='i know............'/><author><name>Mama Aya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00966659894186771437</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NeP4aIpTi_M/SBdCnAJITrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pUwjcjkC0qA/S220/spring-14.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
