tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91064177984649772742024-03-05T13:02:37.043-08:00The Popcorn Story - Ivan MulyadiInspirations - My Journals - IntermezzoIvan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-53292549582598315382011-09-06T20:30:00.000-07:002011-09-06T20:43:37.840-07:00FARMERS, WE NEED YOU ALL!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9PwEJJ0LaMxg0QM6ipFqvmEYPdCccfoH3y6ON1StzDdJKAPHA0-vDIyUwrLdzVeFjyo1ytGfKtCQQVnhXCjwrupTpQhwUepDRrJmq3RvnKTuhMN2mMmwsBcAxYcCPI16dU-GbTAazeLW/s1600/0911_Tidung_06a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9PwEJJ0LaMxg0QM6ipFqvmEYPdCccfoH3y6ON1StzDdJKAPHA0-vDIyUwrLdzVeFjyo1ytGfKtCQQVnhXCjwrupTpQhwUepDRrJmq3RvnKTuhMN2mMmwsBcAxYcCPI16dU-GbTAazeLW/s320/0911_Tidung_06a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649456770261763410" border="0" /></a>Some people find the law of economy a bit confusing, but it actually pretty logic. You will experience that law over and over again, whether you live in big cities or even in a remote island.<br /><br />As in my previous holiday trip, I visited one small island in Thousand Islands, along with my wife and friends. If you haven’t heard of it before, Thousand Islands is an area that consists of a string of around 105 islands. This string of islands stretched along 45 kilometers north to the Java Sea, with the closest island lays only a few kilometers off mainland of Jakarta city. Many of the islands are still uninhabited, while some others have become recreational areas and privately owned by very wealthy people.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdEX7bjemvcPNIITr98YT4EvkaW18NMQFuk9nzqi_atM62PnDgF4CXy5FGI9F38rgaMZWDWEpaCZKgpzoGAQiWHCG7tSOiNjn-FiRMqbhGOYsAoFrbUNDcrZ7V_jMBOcO2rn_4XYaj3s6V/s1600/0911_Tidung_01.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdEX7bjemvcPNIITr98YT4EvkaW18NMQFuk9nzqi_atM62PnDgF4CXy5FGI9F38rgaMZWDWEpaCZKgpzoGAQiWHCG7tSOiNjn-FiRMqbhGOYsAoFrbUNDcrZ7V_jMBOcO2rn_4XYaj3s6V/s320/0911_Tidung_01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649456977297170418" border="0" /></a>Anyway, enough of the pretty stories about beautiful beaches and white sands. What I want to say here is, my stomach growled of starvation when I arrived at the island, because of long way sailing and snorkeling activities. So as my friends decided to try on banana boat activity, I preferred to hunt for some food.<br /><br />As I explored the island, I found very few places to eat. It was going to get dark very soon as the sun began to hide at the other end of the sky. But even so, there were still many people enjoying their time on the island. In fact, the island was nearly crowded and full of people. Later on, I finally found one place to eat that sold roasted corn, noodles and branded-bottled-drinks.<br /><br />Guess what, the corn and drinks are sold more expensive than the corns and the same drinks sold throughout the malls in the city where I live. Yes, the drinks in a remote island are far more expensive than the drinks sold at malls in big cities. Why? The law of economy is the answer.<br /><br />In big cities you will find so many stores that sell drinks so the price cannot go that high. On the contrary, there are so many people in the island and only one or two spots that sell drinks, so the price can go as high as possible.<br /><br />In case you haven’t noticed, the food price around the world is rocketing pretty fast. Why? So many people, so little food… That’s why…<br /><br />We have too many bankers and accountants, but we don’t have enough farmers. We will also be doomed if too many people play Farmville without applying it in the real life. We need real farmers who create real food for us, our elders, and our children.<br /><br />The world will be in lots of troubles and catastrophe if the number of people exceeds the number of food supplies. When the food price skyrockets and people can no longer afford to buy them, then that will be the true end of this world.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzlSdyd5Md4ms68lFFzpflnWN61mStby3MHOO4ht_2Oz19vkBw2cvk5UGfpX9KPwaxHCJD78brCyfxE7f_bhGueGV6ptBH-iN0Se1aaXtYrfBdeqMa8yhLod-LKakWI3gwroCW-Yw8IuB/s1600/0911_Tidung_16a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzlSdyd5Md4ms68lFFzpflnWN61mStby3MHOO4ht_2Oz19vkBw2cvk5UGfpX9KPwaxHCJD78brCyfxE7f_bhGueGV6ptBH-iN0Se1aaXtYrfBdeqMa8yhLod-LKakWI3gwroCW-Yw8IuB/s320/0911_Tidung_16a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649457237402122066" border="0" /></a>Let’s support our farmers and fishermen for that are probably the most potential and crucial job in the near future. Unless we create more farmers and fishermen, we will face an era where we all have to swim to catch fishes to feed ourselves.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3SQ5eqnnteEpFlYxspD22smqLwKnMPKO5YVGieNz9c-UZCEdaI3hE-ipzsSMGDFgCMDDoaI-vI9RdXpdxX96K9SB4sC8Gp0uNO2ywi3x3r8Eh10jGsLwT_grB5yGa4_tXnBn2Qw8hxvv/s1600/0911_Tidung_14a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3SQ5eqnnteEpFlYxspD22smqLwKnMPKO5YVGieNz9c-UZCEdaI3hE-ipzsSMGDFgCMDDoaI-vI9RdXpdxX96K9SB4sC8Gp0uNO2ywi3x3r8Eh10jGsLwT_grB5yGa4_tXnBn2Qw8hxvv/s320/0911_Tidung_14a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649455751563047362" border="0" /></a>Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-50594205970652615682011-06-08T20:53:00.000-07:002011-06-09T19:33:37.323-07:00MISGUIDED MARKETER<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeAEMbWDHfPbh2-ml7EKRkBPq6pTvYpem_apGZ1X33GV2Mjydd2etcG8Av_yW_YFWhefnkonIPtrOKRaUMWSLGWhbZUV2gTzfF6jP1CHyJUQHuJ7kvXdxuLFP5ERWQj8TSfUMzSRK8PCL3/s1600/misguided01.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeAEMbWDHfPbh2-ml7EKRkBPq6pTvYpem_apGZ1X33GV2Mjydd2etcG8Av_yW_YFWhefnkonIPtrOKRaUMWSLGWhbZUV2gTzfF6jP1CHyJUQHuJ7kvXdxuLFP5ERWQj8TSfUMzSRK8PCL3/s320/misguided01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616063589234220930" border="0" /></a>Have you ever watched Godfather movie, the scene where a severed horse head purposely slipped under the blanket of a sleeping old man? The old man woke up, found it and the rest you already knew.<br /><br />One day my boss received an unusual package delivered in the morning. It was a children’s sized coffin filled with real flowers, clearly addressed to my boss with my boss’ name on it. One of the flowers was a white rose that attached to a piece of paper that said Rest In Peace Soon.com.<br /><br />Well, my boss’ face turned pale, so I was told. He wondered who hate him so much and did this. But being an expert and experienced as a marketer, something crossed his mind moments later, that this could be a marketing gimmick, or new kinds of promotion.<br /><br />It turned out right as I spent about an hour monitoring news throughout Internet. It was a promotion from a person who was about to launch a book about the death of advertising because of the power of word-of-mouth campaign. The sender sent 100 coffins throughout the city to selected media figures, public speakers, and professionals in marketing industry.<br /><br />The senders did not say anything about the promotion. The story would have been different if he did. We realized that it’s actually a promotion from the public news, that is, after the police had taken the senders into custody. The thing that arrived were the coffin, real flowers for the dead, my boss’ name and a note “Rest in Peace Soon.com”. What would you expect? It sounds more like a terror than a promotion.<br /><br />I wonder how much is the difference between the Godfather’s scene and the act of sending a children-sized coffin directly to an individual? The sender’s act caused massive anxiousness throughout the people who received the package.<br /><br />Has it ever occurred to the sender’s mind that there might be people who are pregnant, shocked mothers and children (It’s a children sized coffin), or maybe even still grieving from loosing a child?<br /><br />There is a thin line between stupid and creative. Creativity is definitely not stupidity. The act of unpleasant behaviors can never be categorized as creativity.<br /><br />Education, as well of anything, is like a two-sided coin. If it is not digested and delivered in a right way, it can only create madness.<br /><br />It was a misguided marketing. That’s all I can say.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-74814279765664048312011-03-15T20:59:00.000-07:002011-03-16T01:25:36.813-07:00WILL SAKURA BLOSSOM IN MAY ?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQLe_Jv1pXlN_Vf4UjU5rjMF8aAoZEBXKtQfxZqO0Bf46N_MZGCjcWD96tyVQab5X_3N3TQEOINohRjIeQuttA5638xTqYNz3Uc18DdPt46SQ4N0kazgCE0laPbtjSzJok_ffTv2rAa3v/s1600/Sakura03.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQLe_Jv1pXlN_Vf4UjU5rjMF8aAoZEBXKtQfxZqO0Bf46N_MZGCjcWD96tyVQab5X_3N3TQEOINohRjIeQuttA5638xTqYNz3Uc18DdPt46SQ4N0kazgCE0laPbtjSzJok_ffTv2rAa3v/s320/Sakura03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584523317449125026" border="0" /></a><br />My neighbor said that the disaster in Japan is a message from God. The only message actually is my neighbor is an idiot.<br /><br />What’s wrong with you? Is your mind so shallow that you think God have a heart to wipe out His own creation?<br /><br />Each time Sakura blossom so gracefully, have you ever thought “that” is actually a message from God? Does it ever occur to you that God maybe busy trying His best to save as many lives in Japan recently?<br /><br />I wonder how many times in one day do you send messages, via your BlackBerry, your Twitter, your Facebook, your iPad and your other gadgets, and yet how many times in one day do you send messages to God Himself? It is free and you certainly do not need your gadget to do that.<br /><br />So I quoted and borrowed my wife’s posting from her Facebook, which I think is really enlightening and comforting, “Will Sakura Blossom in May?”<br /><br />With the earth shaking so badly and sea water poured and wiped out the land of Japan, we should all send a message to God so Sakura will certainly blossom in May. God help us all.<br /><br />My prayer for Japan.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer<br />Photo taken from www.wallcoo.net<br /></span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-50558758377095969832011-03-15T20:47:00.000-07:002011-03-15T21:11:11.712-07:00THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirU_RRQpH5qpcYja-NH-5tT63RtRRD3FEh4-XE0Vnj6xw3emOhf-nhj8BQvs5lfLOyvKpblh2QOq8crhmGmmRumINc5u_HjOBoz4ZNeHt-6apsvOcmoXK33TwG3L3DdAX4gLAgucGmE_3/s1600/_MG_8740.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirU_RRQpH5qpcYja-NH-5tT63RtRRD3FEh4-XE0Vnj6xw3emOhf-nhj8BQvs5lfLOyvKpblh2QOq8crhmGmmRumINc5u_HjOBoz4ZNeHt-6apsvOcmoXK33TwG3L3DdAX4gLAgucGmE_3/s320/_MG_8740.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584519836951106962" border="0" /></a>It’s been a long time since the last time I poured my thoughts into this juicy Popcorn blog of mine. Four months?? That long?? Well, I’ve been busy lately enjoying the new chapter of life. Yes, I have married the girl I love and moved to a new place so-high-in-the-sky called apartment.<br /><br />Being a husband is exciting indeed, plus hoping to become a father next year. Well, a man gotta do what he gotta do.<br /><br />Anyway, the most important purpose in writing this post is to thank all the people who are involved in uniting us into the happiest couple on December 4th 2010, for without them, we could never make it happen.<br /><br />As no words could ever describe our gratitude and joy, so I think it is better to present these photos as our way of expressing gratitude to all of the people in it.<br /><br />“Many thanks for all of your supports and encouragement. We owe you all a debt we can never repay.”<br /><br />This is only the beginning…<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUvdXW7jVckhxcSwiaam-39b20sVSdGabuiFJL2b6ZxAI3cANbSHO5G93XskgsOkQBA3lchG2zEv9aRh1GOf5RMzwqfXX5SOVuxJcogqOEdk8BHjS6WS9NSb71BSyPYtHdeebvQiAtUY0/s1600/Blog09.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUvdXW7jVckhxcSwiaam-39b20sVSdGabuiFJL2b6ZxAI3cANbSHO5G93XskgsOkQBA3lchG2zEv9aRh1GOf5RMzwqfXX5SOVuxJcogqOEdk8BHjS6WS9NSb71BSyPYtHdeebvQiAtUY0/s320/Blog09.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584520068487756130" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOxkpeuYsxjDU0Woegd7osoOqAAO__NxIbpXb-tdib0Xa7t2OCDAcp7HD5I5fevVzI35VvJmgYzFL2szXKloIy20FUTHfztpPJ1sBrfC3almpU-2WedgML9JuTZSANWo8VBDEHbSE-fAkU/s1600/Blog08.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOxkpeuYsxjDU0Woegd7osoOqAAO__NxIbpXb-tdib0Xa7t2OCDAcp7HD5I5fevVzI35VvJmgYzFL2szXKloIy20FUTHfztpPJ1sBrfC3almpU-2WedgML9JuTZSANWo8VBDEHbSE-fAkU/s320/Blog08.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584520250133896930" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvrmjcZPp0EAkAMnbEeQMXOlrhFKEPgd43mTrf1U0uxG2wnQMLqNYk0-CFtR6OXoRgp43hi9W5ntpBrfxAgl7b1kIBBGotHcoCxey0v8wqx6f803N3vc7cG_sV1-V4blwwroe2LXFW-usr/s1600/Blog05.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvrmjcZPp0EAkAMnbEeQMXOlrhFKEPgd43mTrf1U0uxG2wnQMLqNYk0-CFtR6OXoRgp43hi9W5ntpBrfxAgl7b1kIBBGotHcoCxey0v8wqx6f803N3vc7cG_sV1-V4blwwroe2LXFW-usr/s320/Blog05.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584520334716215314" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfo85uYpfpwQzFB0GLjcdcS14TX9mt0w1ueW4QESZtZWHugEHyFf-eRUEk9jcFFYxh6FSBP5dweBvnr1HyKB2QH5szyKrJKOi2E08cp540PP1osyqsPiE9796q4IIHnHeIlL1Hv6rwgPW/s1600/Blog03.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfo85uYpfpwQzFB0GLjcdcS14TX9mt0w1ueW4QESZtZWHugEHyFf-eRUEk9jcFFYxh6FSBP5dweBvnr1HyKB2QH5szyKrJKOi2E08cp540PP1osyqsPiE9796q4IIHnHeIlL1Hv6rwgPW/s320/Blog03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584520431401639234" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyF_4oTRNqCaqhwgtkYkPP98uy2KeKHCwnV6-lbrbb6PIqlEY4n8fCgTNvij2pNC4_cHd1IDWWsSyR6KS6q-Evj-b-VEZyKoFwR8UnPXgYdNZvpgXPjOFuzkAT4HqEYG92nryHkb_MYB2c/s1600/Blog01.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyF_4oTRNqCaqhwgtkYkPP98uy2KeKHCwnV6-lbrbb6PIqlEY4n8fCgTNvij2pNC4_cHd1IDWWsSyR6KS6q-Evj-b-VEZyKoFwR8UnPXgYdNZvpgXPjOFuzkAT4HqEYG92nryHkb_MYB2c/s320/Blog01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584520490226664818" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSeoTcblTz-4Lz8uODKAUaHaYoyudXwjp2yhOLqqkB6d_LFbMHbImBFXbm8RjEs__QlVAHkxDkE9lO-ABQ_3v-jC-Xz4yL3AeGDv69Hsse3TwDvysN3WlY_OLPvr2B1KW8WaIBv5FwvJpn/s1600/Blog02.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSeoTcblTz-4Lz8uODKAUaHaYoyudXwjp2yhOLqqkB6d_LFbMHbImBFXbm8RjEs__QlVAHkxDkE9lO-ABQ_3v-jC-Xz4yL3AeGDv69Hsse3TwDvysN3WlY_OLPvr2B1KW8WaIBv5FwvJpn/s320/Blog02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584520563897414418" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgynlN6BhuH1QEmbPfyeg95UDxLB26vZ05NJbCseXLLPl7e0y2YQtzqfYBHRMnAxEhHlomekax8m7lykpbmfqPQyNB08kjvBZPVPIPcI70f1QNCWJSrCg5ebcSFQ5F_OwOGOCAVMFDSNe1k/s1600/Blog04.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgynlN6BhuH1QEmbPfyeg95UDxLB26vZ05NJbCseXLLPl7e0y2YQtzqfYBHRMnAxEhHlomekax8m7lykpbmfqPQyNB08kjvBZPVPIPcI70f1QNCWJSrCg5ebcSFQ5F_OwOGOCAVMFDSNe1k/s320/Blog04.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584520687036888306" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFqSYk_CrKVTcDKM_N_yHXcO4fFyUBIAO80JCj8QCNhD3vATzIRVLqeM0qvWihFrCfAj24sUgdC9AEc59ry-ok1XiLdUuAN4y9bvxxhtejpgimUmeEtXWdYgeSLgsbdtInhPXpsQnuNnd/s1600/Blog07.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFqSYk_CrKVTcDKM_N_yHXcO4fFyUBIAO80JCj8QCNhD3vATzIRVLqeM0qvWihFrCfAj24sUgdC9AEc59ry-ok1XiLdUuAN4y9bvxxhtejpgimUmeEtXWdYgeSLgsbdtInhPXpsQnuNnd/s320/Blog07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584520828492296194" border="0" /></a>“Many thanks for all of your supports and encouragement. We owe you all a debt we can never repay.”<br /><br />This is only the beginning…<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-80479922377520025392011-03-15T20:43:00.000-07:002011-03-15T21:11:11.712-07:00HE IS BACK<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4T3uuVb33mtoYjSo0sDqWro022MFWKRckbz3l2JBcnt5m5B5wBV8nxuthSmdt0CdLzYtVF6kiyyS27uIAa2v6gpWa_1cABlBgsDRnlOqxVNV3oksYHwYXp1i6TdjEuNhUiP8srySsWXqZ/s1600/Blog10.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4T3uuVb33mtoYjSo0sDqWro022MFWKRckbz3l2JBcnt5m5B5wBV8nxuthSmdt0CdLzYtVF6kiyyS27uIAa2v6gpWa_1cABlBgsDRnlOqxVNV3oksYHwYXp1i6TdjEuNhUiP8srySsWXqZ/s320/Blog10.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584518704532557650" border="0" /></a>Continued from:<br /><br />http://thepopcornstory.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-fathers-car-ivans-journal.html<br /><br />It’s been a year since the last time I’ve lost him. The dark green metallic Vitara. I’ve been walking on foot ever since. I had a replacement car, but it never felt the same. Not long after that, I decided to return the replacement car back to my father. Feeling unnecessary to ride a car, I’ve decided to become a walker.<br /><br />Until that time came. The time I was going to step into the next stage of life. It’s really expensive to rent a car, especially for such a short period and short distance. In the middle of desperation and confusion, he came back. Not only that, he came back with far better condition than the day his engine got broken.<br /><br />So dressed with wedding flowers from our friends, he took us to a location where we held our wedding ceremony and places that we needed to go. It’s really an honor to have a chance to ride you again. I’m really not worthy to keep you. So back you are to my father once more.<br /><br />Thanks again for everything...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjturs_Rtrmg0Rxz6Ek406Ivsp8JVmSRWutiBXpQvoVwMKBoNkCbgkb4d0EfwAQMtJ8H-Xu4mdw_wxPgJNQBfZwlPn3n1NT2oIqeau4nG5w1bbKAivOqtz1GpXGCBtcqLm7sfyW7A5hp-vp/s1600/Bali08.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjturs_Rtrmg0Rxz6Ek406Ivsp8JVmSRWutiBXpQvoVwMKBoNkCbgkb4d0EfwAQMtJ8H-Xu4mdw_wxPgJNQBfZwlPn3n1NT2oIqeau4nG5w1bbKAivOqtz1GpXGCBtcqLm7sfyW7A5hp-vp/s320/Bali08.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584518878793128290" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-86323891626987633342010-10-22T02:51:00.000-07:002010-10-22T03:02:45.155-07:00TIME IS “NOT” MONEY<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0lDx6nMUG7C0gfMsvIrcMGGi7815mvumHpcv11081v6_IiWlGsbWjXaCEU3qlIam9enPzOBa6fYIg6vFOLcb5yvAmXpzIwvWJr9x7yWIfuiY-rLZgRX27uaA5itOmFqOw85OgZONQL2kn/s1600/Omega_Machine.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0lDx6nMUG7C0gfMsvIrcMGGi7815mvumHpcv11081v6_IiWlGsbWjXaCEU3qlIam9enPzOBa6fYIg6vFOLcb5yvAmXpzIwvWJr9x7yWIfuiY-rLZgRX27uaA5itOmFqOw85OgZONQL2kn/s320/Omega_Machine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530806445739284914" border="0" /></a>What’s the matter with people who keep on saying, “Time is Money”, throughout their lives? Unexpectedly, I received enlightenment about this at a marketing seminar. An old man who is an expert of Guerrilla Marketing named Jay Conrad Levinson finally told something that caught my attention.<br /><br />He said one of the biggest mistakes that we have learned from our parents is, “Time is Money”. If we keep on saying this, we will never be happy for the rest of our lives. Make sense though.<br /><br />Time is Life, “not” Money. When we run out of money, doesn’t mean that we run out of time. But if we run out of time, our life will surely end, no matter how much money you have. That’s why doctors only tell how much time that dying people have before death.<br /><br />Be happy if you still have time, because you can still live.<br /><br />So the future lesson for your kids is, “Time is Life”.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(Picture is taken from Omega Watch).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-60113526276093315022010-09-01T20:17:00.000-07:002010-09-01T20:26:59.470-07:00THE HERO INSIDE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZhuX0RmDv0OABa5Z01gRXwybaCznCnwAEVcSsBwFvEPJf46Rv9V20R-DVRraHpxyhzOwkqRw5aVTOWeySUHPUwDfk1jkweQasJxhbFtfbNh5Yrb9_OCWnBS0f8Tm705YskSRsXwjGYVk/s1600/DarkKnight002.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 231px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZhuX0RmDv0OABa5Z01gRXwybaCznCnwAEVcSsBwFvEPJf46Rv9V20R-DVRraHpxyhzOwkqRw5aVTOWeySUHPUwDfk1jkweQasJxhbFtfbNh5Yrb9_OCWnBS0f8Tm705YskSRsXwjGYVk/s320/DarkKnight002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512150455058004882" border="0" /></a><br />When we are weak, someone has to carry us around.<br />When we fall, someone has to pick us up.<br />That “someone” is our hero.<br /><br />But<br /><br />When a hero is weak, he will try to carry himself around.<br />When a hero falls, he will learn to pick himself up again.<br />Heroes also need help, but a hero will always try to help himself first.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnuN4r2UaQd6j81nG8d3QB4aN6SUJnzrgSMaqgiE9_OG__H5I6PdoVtiZDNAq_lUC2n-KX1H-VTKd1bQIxraOwUVY9b_CUQ5hpWXLTX6a5j6ZyB952ZoECO5rDy5ZklX94fCEkrIQ-us3/s1600/DarkKnight003.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnuN4r2UaQd6j81nG8d3QB4aN6SUJnzrgSMaqgiE9_OG__H5I6PdoVtiZDNAq_lUC2n-KX1H-VTKd1bQIxraOwUVY9b_CUQ5hpWXLTX6a5j6ZyB952ZoECO5rDy5ZklX94fCEkrIQ-us3/s320/DarkKnight003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512150648851391762" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">There is a hero inside of everyone, for a hero comes from the inside.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXe27-yem6UcW_DK4HWcaQRJc70xxyBYVwIIXPz0cpt2UFrXwF_iTNdTGc0n6qA8Qb-lfAoSTB7_qV5OXJEqqOQZ9psD0U6Gqx1i9zPGk9DTTmhHvA5q7BUbTROYgbtLmJwaOAvRcxqLxt/s1600/DarkKnight005.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXe27-yem6UcW_DK4HWcaQRJc70xxyBYVwIIXPz0cpt2UFrXwF_iTNdTGc0n6qA8Qb-lfAoSTB7_qV5OXJEqqOQZ9psD0U6Gqx1i9zPGk9DTTmhHvA5q7BUbTROYgbtLmJwaOAvRcxqLxt/s320/DarkKnight005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512151180041648882" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">A hero doesn’t have to possess super strength.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">For we become a hero not because of what we are, but because of what we do.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-22832347530573309022010-09-01T02:38:00.000-07:002010-09-01T02:43:16.933-07:00MAKE IT SIMPLE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBaHxPKrRh_yE8bl07HfGbCCfe9G1hkvvf6XR1LCWJ_swQGh50U8Q7K5JwmY1G7fwnKJQCvpJ_IeCj_AfMIqpOHsDPN_j-mhvVGOyw2eNU1GfaINUtSIWa3DX2U4yD7aKMbDtnxlulByQ/s1600/COmplicatedDog.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBaHxPKrRh_yE8bl07HfGbCCfe9G1hkvvf6XR1LCWJ_swQGh50U8Q7K5JwmY1G7fwnKJQCvpJ_IeCj_AfMIqpOHsDPN_j-mhvVGOyw2eNU1GfaINUtSIWa3DX2U4yD7aKMbDtnxlulByQ/s200/COmplicatedDog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511878277055660674" border="0" /></a>Lately my butterfly and I have been enthusiastic in making preparations for our wedding. Though sadly we have very limited budget, so we have to be very creative and persistent in hunting and preparing. One day I called two of my friends through Yahoo Messenger to ask for a reference about restaurants, make up and hand bouquet. I know they might know something because one of them likes to hunt for food, and the other one runs a flower business.<br /><br />Both of them congratulate and wish me good luck for the wedding preparations, but when I ask them about their relationships, they replied with the same answer, “It’s complicated.” One of them doesn’t want to talk about it, while the other one told a complete story about the never-ending long distance relationship. Guess what, I didn’t get anything about the restaurant, make up and hand bouquet because our conversations got too “complicated”.<br /><br />Next week, I searched, collected, and called only friends who are happily married. Guess what, I got all the information and references that I need only in one day. They are not complicated and the conversation went smooth and simple. Because we have the same objectives and purposes, the conversation went to the same direction.<br /><br />Too often shit happens, and we let them piled up for too long until it explodes. Sometimes things can get complicated because we assume so, and let it become complicated. Sometimes we focused too much on the problems, but not on the solutions. Sometimes we got stuck in hot debate, instead of having warm discussion. Sometimes we don’t even know where we are going.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoL4CpcupXOhxU7dsSRUHTWhQ7bFGZ207OEU-Umg2R33bC_0aIJaVLfCJt-NQaMKMyrB9qZP8uMtYaoJlyCn7aKcIY9IvUch_gtGxkLXXmuWRjGnBfwTVS5lHlwesZjvn67LNiM2bBwec/s1600/Agt25_03.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoL4CpcupXOhxU7dsSRUHTWhQ7bFGZ207OEU-Umg2R33bC_0aIJaVLfCJt-NQaMKMyrB9qZP8uMtYaoJlyCn7aKcIY9IvUch_gtGxkLXXmuWRjGnBfwTVS5lHlwesZjvn67LNiM2bBwec/s320/Agt25_03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511877643720277074" border="0" /></a>I hope we can simplify all things. I wish we all can have healthy fights and arguments because good relationships come from healthy fights and meaningful arguments. Fights and arguments are necessary to form an even stronger relationship. I also hope we all can always have warm conversations and discussions – conversations where two people can freely express their hearts until they can understand each other.<br /><br />Easier said than done, but we all have to try our best.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-1757556900071635932010-09-01T02:31:00.000-07:002010-09-01T02:42:12.263-07:00THE BEST SERVICE IS SELF-SERVICE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhaFHucQe9KdMVsW3LwQDsxnNozFBZKxbigG16zKgBAr1b1MJ5i7nbxUu8LozAzc8R87F0eRTkUlp86niGM7rB8nTqRp7BN4yYkhe9dAQJYODl10epgm2jzv6e0fAklcE4RB5E9XHQrpD/s1600/Hospitality04.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhaFHucQe9KdMVsW3LwQDsxnNozFBZKxbigG16zKgBAr1b1MJ5i7nbxUu8LozAzc8R87F0eRTkUlp86niGM7rB8nTqRp7BN4yYkhe9dAQJYODl10epgm2jzv6e0fAklcE4RB5E9XHQrpD/s320/Hospitality04.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511875967554041410" border="0" /></a><br />Have you ever been to a place like stores, restaurants or hotels, where the waitresses and attendants frequently follow you around anywhere you go? Not only that, they also constantly ask whether they can help you with anything. One of my friends said, they even follow him to the toilet, like they thought he didn’t know how to use “it”. I have “tasted” many restaurants where the waitresses always ask whether they can pick up your “unfinished” meals and drinks, over and over again.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsORA5byWQx6Pz47c-QTXrf_ryavca78EKoWqqLydQUu0s1SGp9NdZDNnKeDfEtOAy0EmURSFhhN1bi9Yz8t-YbozET__IgF4r25XnHcke1eZItquBzLRHCyOIiraLFV92EFypx1ZLIvTp/s1600/Hospitality02.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsORA5byWQx6Pz47c-QTXrf_ryavca78EKoWqqLydQUu0s1SGp9NdZDNnKeDfEtOAy0EmURSFhhN1bi9Yz8t-YbozET__IgF4r25XnHcke1eZItquBzLRHCyOIiraLFV92EFypx1ZLIvTp/s320/Hospitality02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511876152339959458" border="0" /></a>The outcome of those kinds of “hospitality” is really annoying. Plus what’s more annoying is that when you “do” need the waitresses and attendants, they are nowhere to be found. Too often, they ask whether they can help you, but the truth is they cannot help you with anything. I find many employees at supermarkets who cannot locate even the most general or simple products at their own workplace.<br /><br />Hospitality or service doesn’t always have to be shown. Sometimes the best service is something that is “not shown but can be found or experienced” by the customers. Self-service is one of the best methods for service excellence. Not only this service can give freedom and make the customer feels like home, it also educates the customers to become independent and knowledgeable.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqbIGAKl952abrpPhuwlpryunDfN_bxTwHKtcWrHpT7nMh_AgoFXBfMOlHdhtgR1f6Efj45OjabuucBv6phgCrqZik-gGMgffHiwbuolhlC18PXARARACCb8aGmB4SPozjI-RSjLvHj59/s1600/Hospitality01.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqbIGAKl952abrpPhuwlpryunDfN_bxTwHKtcWrHpT7nMh_AgoFXBfMOlHdhtgR1f6Efj45OjabuucBv6phgCrqZik-gGMgffHiwbuolhlC18PXARARACCb8aGmB4SPozjI-RSjLvHj59/s320/Hospitality01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511876508775445746" border="0" /></a>I will ask you a simple question, “If you are dining, would you prefer to pick the sugar and pour it into your drinks yourself as you desire, or have the waitress do it for you? Some restaurants or café even let the customers make their own drinks or meals. It is about time we learn to provide a “Self-Service Friendly Environment” to create service excellence.<br /><br />Service is not to offer, but to deliver. Hospitality has to be real and not fake. Service excellence is an unforgettable experience.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span><br /><br />(Images are taken from Canadore College, Comtecusa, and Insidesocal).Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-52197296658370219022010-06-01T21:41:00.000-07:002010-06-01T23:06:47.637-07:00VALUE OF A MAN<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyOQSI9DZZY78nRvykdNzRJbXDvyW892G07WlPVPjRNB6sHmjCv1CiyaLp37RmRivJGNf2NP-yONN5Q5F2W9RoqCiIOIXmNxgpDSsV9zRhTnjZFElUcYMPRGSm8sSyTU-AoXcmNW0TrJtp/s1600/IpMan2_09.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyOQSI9DZZY78nRvykdNzRJbXDvyW892G07WlPVPjRNB6sHmjCv1CiyaLp37RmRivJGNf2NP-yONN5Q5F2W9RoqCiIOIXmNxgpDSsV9zRhTnjZFElUcYMPRGSm8sSyTU-AoXcmNW0TrJtp/s320/IpMan2_09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478032387728070786" border="0" /></a>There is really a thin line between pride and arrogance. If someone has a strong value or principle in life, there can only be one outcome of it – pride or arrogance. We all must be proud of ourselves and what we stand for. But that pride must not turn into arrogance. This principle is true in all aspects of life, whether in religions, cultures, values, careers, titles, you name it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh97Ln-gci1xv-J0-xF0ew7bh_kLPKG940E47r2zjhxn-wbOVAsT1Ku6HDYRi9_By4ID1V8c6nVdVRGTxFMIx_lCcNd4oYzE9TYu3QqR-ExTpPxmb2kFB5wBejgBgkY_AU51-d94sU_gfAm/s1600/IpMan2_05.jpeg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh97Ln-gci1xv-J0-xF0ew7bh_kLPKG940E47r2zjhxn-wbOVAsT1Ku6HDYRi9_By4ID1V8c6nVdVRGTxFMIx_lCcNd4oYzE9TYu3QqR-ExTpPxmb2kFB5wBejgBgkY_AU51-d94sU_gfAm/s320/IpMan2_05.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478032801314672082" border="0" /></a>Ip Man speaks in the name of Wing Chun. He respects Wing Chun and proud to apply it as his value in his life. But whenever his opponents were defeated and admitted, “Your Kung Fu is better than mine”, Ip Man replied, “It is not about whose Kung Fu is better. The real problem is you”.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCX-m-QprwoY2GIfnkJFwrra85k5PW1IblhundZpgP_SrMOGUTqb5WFtgqzLenKehxR-hgSR3bQs-FF3eIzXcfnSEeFA48wsQXNeINXn1iX9_iezUAfotaCtZgxgWS7_dh28g7kZbSIH1T/s1600/IpMan2_03.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCX-m-QprwoY2GIfnkJFwrra85k5PW1IblhundZpgP_SrMOGUTqb5WFtgqzLenKehxR-hgSR3bQs-FF3eIzXcfnSEeFA48wsQXNeINXn1iX9_iezUAfotaCtZgxgWS7_dh28g7kZbSIH1T/s320/IpMan2_03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478035064697852162" border="0" /></a>Proud men are those who hold their values, but always remain open and respect toward others. Proud man is always willing to learn from others.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvaeZ2_ElCYk8VYZ-PqjyS4VL7s-bHfTD47CknByA6PbIOkLFAF7rjm9mfaQNwf-hP8GehIj6g1HvxR4VwR1mTS-jNU5kM6sIy_VS1twLg2_AYM_cUlxxJ7uTqL1QTmWgiwCGmUOvMxvjy/s1600/IpMan2_15.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvaeZ2_ElCYk8VYZ-PqjyS4VL7s-bHfTD47CknByA6PbIOkLFAF7rjm9mfaQNwf-hP8GehIj6g1HvxR4VwR1mTS-jNU5kM6sIy_VS1twLg2_AYM_cUlxxJ7uTqL1QTmWgiwCGmUOvMxvjy/s200/IpMan2_15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478033683995856370" border="0" /></a>On the other hand, arrogant men are those who always think that their values are better than others. Arrogance always speak that they and their values are the best and everybody should become like them.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />No matter what we stand for, arrogance is not an option.<br /><br />Pride is not arrogance.<br /><br />Be proud of yourself, but don’t let that pride turn into arrogance.<br /><br />It is not about which kung fu, religions, cultures, values are the best. The real problem is you… and your ego…<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-45687659770952889152010-05-13T20:17:00.000-07:002010-05-13T20:44:50.791-07:00PATHS TO REDEMPTION<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTkrhvA03wnAuNWs6FKWPBznoj557KQ9ewXszMreDVO_d78dT5OV1PuaraqlEwpJjGSF7XzDTH4YdaJXwEum8ripFfXoGRxwD1eKGaJuqdyzeVE7Eyqx_izxWvMPRxfhrrnTmRXPO2GXw/s1600/Solomon_05.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTkrhvA03wnAuNWs6FKWPBznoj557KQ9ewXszMreDVO_d78dT5OV1PuaraqlEwpJjGSF7XzDTH4YdaJXwEum8ripFfXoGRxwD1eKGaJuqdyzeVE7Eyqx_izxWvMPRxfhrrnTmRXPO2GXw/s320/Solomon_05.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470959954013952322" border="0" /></a><br />They said, “There are many paths to redemption. Not all of them peaceful”. I certainly agree. But that is not a reason to banish someone from a church. That is definitely not an excuse to banish people from their church. As redemption is the right for every man, and so every church should serve as place to help those in need.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGwRmz_d35kVGGmbUC-f2knpE0LTRAFHvhWIyKuaoxxtDFU608rXh4vAxmcAErewaYj_tEDGopf6lvVgDSDYxVLriirkfvHe6rrDkdg1N4AesFqg_wHhv977Jp2ojj2QUOEKgoDGs99QKe/s1600/Solomon_04.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGwRmz_d35kVGGmbUC-f2knpE0LTRAFHvhWIyKuaoxxtDFU608rXh4vAxmcAErewaYj_tEDGopf6lvVgDSDYxVLriirkfvHe6rrDkdg1N4AesFqg_wHhv977Jp2ojj2QUOEKgoDGs99QKe/s200/Solomon_04.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470960363695501970" border="0" /></a>Solomon Kane who did terrible things in the past was banished from a church. When he wanted to redeem himself and tried his best to become “A man of peace”, the church sent him away. The church may have left him, but God never leave His people, no matter how bad they are.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRzMGLWNfzpbLwppzUZytrWVqoOuUFWxVV_B0ftWAlPrVzULDxKmTQ54bYru3zpHJZ8_1FazEcb5VdWa4IvmMOj15cl3qpnh_OEDJ43w_b21a-his9rsFJYFrAogiYyYvyQo-XI7E0KX9/s1600/Solomon_03.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRzMGLWNfzpbLwppzUZytrWVqoOuUFWxVV_B0ftWAlPrVzULDxKmTQ54bYru3zpHJZ8_1FazEcb5VdWa4IvmMOj15cl3qpnh_OEDJ43w_b21a-his9rsFJYFrAogiYyYvyQo-XI7E0KX9/s320/Solomon_03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470960623101577330" border="0" /></a>God led Solomon to another church – a true church in a form of families who helped him with sincerity. That family helped him even after they knew how “evil” Solomon was in the past. The family treated Solomon like one of their own and he finally became a much better man than before. A true church is not inside a building. A true church resides in your heart and in the hearts of people around you.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgARmnCCeXFZ5IjGPT4WdHWuisQPZGqvtEWMJmYMyiX9sebZC5BEMKi7kBSjhL8wPH4qTGDpb7T_1N1JXgLZH5EteGyirt30F5WwffchTnmJBrmmS2-clCHsyRtXLarLggkbrM3gAqwR-Vb/s1600/Solomon_07.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgARmnCCeXFZ5IjGPT4WdHWuisQPZGqvtEWMJmYMyiX9sebZC5BEMKi7kBSjhL8wPH4qTGDpb7T_1N1JXgLZH5EteGyirt30F5WwffchTnmJBrmmS2-clCHsyRtXLarLggkbrM3gAqwR-Vb/s320/Solomon_07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470961035962109074" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYH1ZrdQyU3Gza3eny1iAIUjAwjcBvWJSLX7JvzmGEE2yR58-xQRKHBpIe2kAGMjBm7_VtG3SDJFvdzSRdRvDchlwT4lcPyV9G6PwDlcrML4Sl9DOhtdiOR8_8NEUyQihLd1dKS1K9j-nO/s1600/Solomon_15.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYH1ZrdQyU3Gza3eny1iAIUjAwjcBvWJSLX7JvzmGEE2yR58-xQRKHBpIe2kAGMjBm7_VtG3SDJFvdzSRdRvDchlwT4lcPyV9G6PwDlcrML4Sl9DOhtdiOR8_8NEUyQihLd1dKS1K9j-nO/s320/Solomon_15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470966240600080594" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSGCe1SPY50C25HVXO14YkAa8nYzApzEZvGEnvd2XcZio3eTDwi1rwSN1UmpquA_dgwBM8gWtCJDM2NfrMpTR9cZB-szsOOOL4mEnmwJdFdYlXLK1Hr2yYUBTL11jlT3fxZB-yt6iRDjl/s1600/Solomon_02.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSGCe1SPY50C25HVXO14YkAa8nYzApzEZvGEnvd2XcZio3eTDwi1rwSN1UmpquA_dgwBM8gWtCJDM2NfrMpTR9cZB-szsOOOL4mEnmwJdFdYlXLK1Hr2yYUBTL11jlT3fxZB-yt6iRDjl/s320/Solomon_02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470961214843310738" border="0" /></a>But the world didn’t always responds like the way we wanted. Solomon tried his best not to get in the fight and avoid violence at all cost, even if he was hit, beaten up, and robbed by others. But by the time the evil took the lives of people who had helped him, he was forced to once again unleash what he always did best in the past, fighting and killing.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOCFc4xlGjYcbvWCl4hb9TIOyDkKwyFZmRb6JSP_E20Wv3sUiSu3dgMetBdxM4uHe-Vuh8-aZD4J2wKQtXFo6-fEsEUBaI_Xspor_P63_WaoAuvOY-BQnCu55heB8XDhPvqlUbzsxDHYqS/s1600/Solomon_14.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOCFc4xlGjYcbvWCl4hb9TIOyDkKwyFZmRb6JSP_E20Wv3sUiSu3dgMetBdxM4uHe-Vuh8-aZD4J2wKQtXFo6-fEsEUBaI_Xspor_P63_WaoAuvOY-BQnCu55heB8XDhPvqlUbzsxDHYqS/s320/Solomon_14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470962779697411042" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLYogJrPxw7adlbDMH3YUE_2VAewYaoH6bHDMBk8Ybbl1LabDbLnDtVJ-zSF-jIeQZkiNda4mfBhs9RA3pzuv47m3OY2rQmhkCoTeI3coYVlONXIPiSjDtKO_LkR7eQlQi28OQQlrwK3fa/s1600/Solomon_13.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLYogJrPxw7adlbDMH3YUE_2VAewYaoH6bHDMBk8Ybbl1LabDbLnDtVJ-zSF-jIeQZkiNda4mfBhs9RA3pzuv47m3OY2rQmhkCoTeI3coYVlONXIPiSjDtKO_LkR7eQlQi28OQQlrwK3fa/s200/Solomon_13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470963099723648274" border="0" /></a>Solomon once again became a killing machine, but this time he was fighting for a noble cause. When no one dared to stand against evil, he was forced to once again swing his sword and guns in order to banish the evils that claimed his land. God never leave Solomon as He never leaves us if we are fighting for a noble cause.<br /><br />A true church does not always reside inside the buildings. A true church is inside your heart and in the hearts of other people. God is always with us.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_W5cBF6pk3J_aydCiSBUjnzjZ9n7wDfXaHVRj7F_CtAHy7ZxH6hLgVXz94mG2mYa6fg6tYwO0F2zYHZ0PXeudL0Il69yn463d6cZAmciRnDvN64oJRmc6wQRh6FLF3BSEZSSoPcr8Z7rA/s1600/Solomon_11.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_W5cBF6pk3J_aydCiSBUjnzjZ9n7wDfXaHVRj7F_CtAHy7ZxH6hLgVXz94mG2mYa6fg6tYwO0F2zYHZ0PXeudL0Il69yn463d6cZAmciRnDvN64oJRmc6wQRh6FLF3BSEZSSoPcr8Z7rA/s320/Solomon_11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470963291391095778" border="0" /></a>Prayers are not always in the form of words as faith itself is not words. Faith is fulfilled with sincere actions and deeds.<br /><br />Many people hide their true faces behind religions. Few people dare to stand against evil, inside or outside them.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-28901557742734396472010-04-29T21:13:00.001-07:002010-04-29T21:25:41.982-07:00LIKE THERE IS NO TOMORROW<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqfNpCW2_i2yiMYTe1Q-4p6p3HKhEreT-oj1bBPaTVcrDYMwIEgGZA8dBw192936pcDU-Jhyphenhyphen8PjPh0FHjtG4RYQj7KuBYAIS3g2WcKGYJfU8njhb-eBkl_PhoePMACZGCWY37hn-NIngfQ/s1600/BookOfEli10.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 138px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqfNpCW2_i2yiMYTe1Q-4p6p3HKhEreT-oj1bBPaTVcrDYMwIEgGZA8dBw192936pcDU-Jhyphenhyphen8PjPh0FHjtG4RYQj7KuBYAIS3g2WcKGYJfU8njhb-eBkl_PhoePMACZGCWY37hn-NIngfQ/s320/BookOfEli10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465779007512112642" border="0" /></a><br />It was between reality and dream, as I walked under the heat of the sun. “Funny, I used to remember there are supposed to be buildings and people around here. Where is everybody?”<br /><br />Then a man came and walked beside me. He asked me where I was going.<br /><br />“To work”. I replied.<br /><br />“Work for what?” He asked again.<br /><br />“For tomorrow”. I said.<br /><br />“But what if there is no tomorrow?” He insisted.<br /><br />“Then I will live like there is no tomorrow”. I replied.<br /><br />The man shook my hand, “My name is “Laziness”, but you can call me “Surrender”. Sorry to bother you”. Soon after saying that, he vanished.<br /><br />Maybe this world will change. Maybe it won’t. But surrender is not an option. There is no fate but what we make. We can never see tomorrow, but we can thank God by giving our best today.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4pfnF7KdEbhyphenhyphenINDDDpopuCUOACHIzzYjzU20zEV9eWPxyszaEqZKFIqA5-pGPvvBtesyHVX_wbpofTSs6PyluBR3zHyW3wvEbaa-12BpFOAj5k-sAzVIKKeKE2hXvnJqPWTVQ_2Z9QOK/s1600/BookOfEli01.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4pfnF7KdEbhyphenhyphenINDDDpopuCUOACHIzzYjzU20zEV9eWPxyszaEqZKFIqA5-pGPvvBtesyHVX_wbpofTSs6PyluBR3zHyW3wvEbaa-12BpFOAj5k-sAzVIKKeKE2hXvnJqPWTVQ_2Z9QOK/s320/BookOfEli01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465779415451838994" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Walk like there is no tomorrow.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiscXaCe39CpW12-0lYje3ZW1ZxE8KxxVXM1Hf01AF-FArzket0Eol0PlYZK_oHKznrBiWLKLdGlff3fFWhTfWeNt5kNbGflPuGoZ-yVvsvs1DwPom0a3Nj1q9bUqzlB-wYMMH62fLVT7Nt/s1600/BookOfEli08.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiscXaCe39CpW12-0lYje3ZW1ZxE8KxxVXM1Hf01AF-FArzket0Eol0PlYZK_oHKznrBiWLKLdGlff3fFWhTfWeNt5kNbGflPuGoZ-yVvsvs1DwPom0a3Nj1q9bUqzlB-wYMMH62fLVT7Nt/s320/BookOfEli08.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465779651730407970" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Fight like there is no tomorrow.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTiA51ymuEjuLL9qeI2JPfibmEqmWII0vXQ10LKpj5fBdCU3h-YY35bvmMYtxA1oMtLnNtEhEAYhHKb_FEgG3Q40_qpRRw6Lt0hJNw1vXO-oeFihNI4XvqrzSyMLSgLcCZ8PrPbTx6542Z/s1600/BookOfEli06.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTiA51ymuEjuLL9qeI2JPfibmEqmWII0vXQ10LKpj5fBdCU3h-YY35bvmMYtxA1oMtLnNtEhEAYhHKb_FEgG3Q40_qpRRw6Lt0hJNw1vXO-oeFihNI4XvqrzSyMLSgLcCZ8PrPbTx6542Z/s320/BookOfEli06.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465779914684152162" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pray like there is no tomorrow.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61B8BDN94ApLNJRGfAUGMSnS8rmC-y_CootQNtHrIzVpdUHhcgGEC_naAAW9hIZZ70lgQ0UltFUUFJtcKw4eVZb9nuefYJoq4ZcAuKlTYjEPb2r42Gk40xDUcYbZ6fr5eG4M5NNLvxZWQ/s1600/BookOfEli02.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61B8BDN94ApLNJRGfAUGMSnS8rmC-y_CootQNtHrIzVpdUHhcgGEC_naAAW9hIZZ70lgQ0UltFUUFJtcKw4eVZb9nuefYJoq4ZcAuKlTYjEPb2r42Gk40xDUcYbZ6fr5eG4M5NNLvxZWQ/s320/BookOfEli02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465780114587080754" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Live like there is no tomorrow.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-12900656074062584232010-03-29T01:00:00.000-07:002010-03-29T01:29:08.977-07:00EVEN AFTER DEATH<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrq9zkKhoAz4Odq8GrdhwDuwRrSk6lu71n7YH__6guFeCKsgFuK02OeuraVGpD4WZJJmZ2zfYbrwjX23fYmMh4miHMviyrnOXby64ujNQikqoyl9xucx8LiRp4Dc5rKW64wpngIOWg-jB2/s1600/Hachiko_01.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrq9zkKhoAz4Odq8GrdhwDuwRrSk6lu71n7YH__6guFeCKsgFuK02OeuraVGpD4WZJJmZ2zfYbrwjX23fYmMh4miHMviyrnOXby64ujNQikqoyl9xucx8LiRp4Dc5rKW64wpngIOWg-jB2/s320/Hachiko_01.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453963919630424162" border="0" /></a>For most people, waiting is the most annoying and tiring job in the world. Maybe that’s why they often say, “I’m tired of waiting”. How long are you willing to wait for someone you love? 5 minutes, 1 day, 1 month, or 1 year? How about 10 years? Most people couldn’t stand to wait even for an hour or two.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwGedKie6-hMLWP2KhgKcOYigrTcvOTzeLMRP0CwEByuZNEo-6-AllX6BbjpS4bKPf_pl-ec08utlvlrZkEacRB-KnfQLCUN-BbzlAKab3tv6kRGC4gRrW0oCfo5ZwQ4A5OwbxHhVRyorQ/s1600/Hachiko_02.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 177px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwGedKie6-hMLWP2KhgKcOYigrTcvOTzeLMRP0CwEByuZNEo-6-AllX6BbjpS4bKPf_pl-ec08utlvlrZkEacRB-KnfQLCUN-BbzlAKab3tv6kRGC4gRrW0oCfo5ZwQ4A5OwbxHhVRyorQ/s200/Hachiko_02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453964360585413186" border="0" /></a><br />I was wondering what’s dwelling inside Hachi’s head that gave him the patience and dedication of 10 years waiting for his master’s return, everyday, always in the same place and at the same time.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGulfv2gb8EYiCCJ7z_4ga0CX7QbxYpER8TokzuPgTGhcs7ZJS_A4UBwu17UNePLR4qnmiYVRa12zb3gtU2W6cGNYB7-FDASFaM9IPF_BE-veM7r1vG_iBA3_3kjzrUZlxlp6LN4B_V9cz/s1600/Hachiko_08a.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGulfv2gb8EYiCCJ7z_4ga0CX7QbxYpER8TokzuPgTGhcs7ZJS_A4UBwu17UNePLR4qnmiYVRa12zb3gtU2W6cGNYB7-FDASFaM9IPF_BE-veM7r1vG_iBA3_3kjzrUZlxlp6LN4B_V9cz/s320/Hachiko_08a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453965446359195666" border="0" /></a>Maybe he didn’t realize that his master had passed away and hoped that one day he will see his master again, walking towards him from the door in Shibuya Train Station.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpCE4vfCV7YzB5IXDbTTuM5Jq1xGiXHvokwCMTTFGIEKThRuxo390wS1BF5iAaFtfVBbEATHrVR5bswxR5hkJ_phslumgoIHuR5eBmiKusnESfP58Lu3JCFeY1ReetzrVS8leUH2Pi69_W/s1600/Hachiko_07.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpCE4vfCV7YzB5IXDbTTuM5Jq1xGiXHvokwCMTTFGIEKThRuxo390wS1BF5iAaFtfVBbEATHrVR5bswxR5hkJ_phslumgoIHuR5eBmiKusnESfP58Lu3JCFeY1ReetzrVS8leUH2Pi69_W/s200/Hachiko_07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453964753635839394" border="0" /></a>Maybe he knew that his master had passed away, but continued to wait anyway, just to respect his deceased master.<br /><br />Maybe he just wants to show the people around him, how much he loves his master.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5J2eDfcRUvHY6XZ7tUdKgD5HeUmrKa51iab4RPFAU8naUedwdM9DtZt-XqbEmg6hw2tR48roJlTKUJHxiTs7SeTwunnUxSGlbywRf9YHYxYRLG3MznkwclsGs0PL6f-PeZF5YqzPmHIa7/s1600/Hachiko_03.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5J2eDfcRUvHY6XZ7tUdKgD5HeUmrKa51iab4RPFAU8naUedwdM9DtZt-XqbEmg6hw2tR48roJlTKUJHxiTs7SeTwunnUxSGlbywRf9YHYxYRLG3MznkwclsGs0PL6f-PeZF5YqzPmHIa7/s320/Hachiko_03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453966589992222946" border="0" /></a>Maybe his master’s soul came by to Hachi and whispered, “Wait for me there, and when the time comes, I will take you with me”.<br /><br />Maybe God told Hachi to wait there, so that we humans can learn the true meaning of “loyalty”.<br /><br />Only God knows…<br /><br />We humans only knew the oath or vow of “Until Death Do Us Part”. Apparently for Hachi, he took the oath to a greater limit, “Even after Death Do Us Part”.<br /><br />Don’t let the meaning of loyalty died with Hachi.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMEMB5sQpoPQsYoAvOsUTCHqpYOpZNdAoJsHDc5dZvkEN72j7JO6NDnTYCNHTek9draQ0OclYBQNJuIPDKZoq_T_cIcaUp4N3XlfHVd-e839NI2VFa6q9WSAG4lP5r2XgkAdeFHGFIfEbi/s1600/Hachiko_08.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMEMB5sQpoPQsYoAvOsUTCHqpYOpZNdAoJsHDc5dZvkEN72j7JO6NDnTYCNHTek9draQ0OclYBQNJuIPDKZoq_T_cIcaUp4N3XlfHVd-e839NI2VFa6q9WSAG4lP5r2XgkAdeFHGFIfEbi/s320/Hachiko_08.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453967181922999746" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikk6LlPQhaIapQ-YtZ_a0tGPBczW5PH7pkrP5Mu1ksfcExSIN8BHwBTbCzYZ-pau0gx55Dup7vOqj0LRb-MtBHL0XoML9ROSyDaeqYICWfnkqDpHYXXkjaLF-g2tnXHAwY4EkKXFcMGH7A/s1600/Hachiko_08b.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikk6LlPQhaIapQ-YtZ_a0tGPBczW5PH7pkrP5Mu1ksfcExSIN8BHwBTbCzYZ-pau0gx55Dup7vOqj0LRb-MtBHL0XoML9ROSyDaeqYICWfnkqDpHYXXkjaLF-g2tnXHAwY4EkKXFcMGH7A/s320/Hachiko_08b.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453967612668090434" border="0" /></a></span></span>Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-91300608207650979382010-03-29T00:53:00.000-07:002010-03-29T01:00:25.667-07:00FEELS LIKE YESTERDAY<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuWvrnkeG4M1ldRsp64NCKVfrGEL9cVHZFetsA7R4cckWE6Z8bfkBe-g5EHYJhTg8g-holFhPbVTGWFyFj_CUC8rUKuumWwfpNnKdf_r8U-Ij1tf1RKiNxuzjLO6NA2aqF2vjMkdt-86Y3/s1600/Ours01a.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuWvrnkeG4M1ldRsp64NCKVfrGEL9cVHZFetsA7R4cckWE6Z8bfkBe-g5EHYJhTg8g-holFhPbVTGWFyFj_CUC8rUKuumWwfpNnKdf_r8U-Ij1tf1RKiNxuzjLO6NA2aqF2vjMkdt-86Y3/s320/Ours01a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453961227402493602" border="0" /></a><br />Feels like it’s only yesterday, I remember meeting you at the airport.<br /><br />“Someone once told me an important formula to create a nice weekend. Do you know what that is?” I sipped the cool-creamy-green tea drink with my butterfly dressed in black sitting next to me.<br /><br />“No, what is it?” She looked curious.<br /><br />“A pretty girl, lot’s of money, and a nice drink”.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4ip7eSs4VoDUT8XTAye6aAjzcCOdw7ogAx_6VCDdCHZI6ZKrNvl1wsO_Pl_NqAqrT7cykJxRzE5C8mzzmCMn4IGQm8HFNZAl9-rVsI_Ei2o-I-Fs8vKYGNmRH3xZ7EY592WsKpk_xOLt/s1600/DSC00006a.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4ip7eSs4VoDUT8XTAye6aAjzcCOdw7ogAx_6VCDdCHZI6ZKrNvl1wsO_Pl_NqAqrT7cykJxRzE5C8mzzmCMn4IGQm8HFNZAl9-rVsI_Ei2o-I-Fs8vKYGNmRH3xZ7EY592WsKpk_xOLt/s200/DSC00006a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453961987957915618" border="0" /></a>“Oh.” She smiled with mocha around her lips.<br /><br />“I’m glad that I have them all.” I said. “Especially you.”<br /><br />Celebrating one year journey towards happiness with you, Butterfly”.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-32423277315939700062010-03-29T00:36:00.000-07:002010-03-29T00:55:49.858-07:00YEAR OF TIGER, HIDDEN VALENTINE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLvpxREb0AVV1NyP08Auqjg_IhjhtoDwPa8ipxvbWu89QoeQeeefXHK5_60j0xHCyPy4uKBE309iIQzwpmb_Y7_nlLhH7lyD3gUr4jn8iNLujekPwkND5HqSD0XIuqVKBkD-o8NvaAdq_/s1600/DSC00007.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLvpxREb0AVV1NyP08Auqjg_IhjhtoDwPa8ipxvbWu89QoeQeeefXHK5_60j0xHCyPy4uKBE309iIQzwpmb_Y7_nlLhH7lyD3gUr4jn8iNLujekPwkND5HqSD0XIuqVKBkD-o8NvaAdq_/s320/DSC00007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453958011532699442" border="0" /></a><br />What would happen if Chinese New Year was combined with Valentine and weekend? The answer was a flight on a jet plane to a place where families gathered with lots of red and pink ornaments. Gong Xi Fa Cai.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGOdIFbXUBdjyUQVW5qEdSK_sOO9chqQRPJz5qLD_JTGyfkUAHHQ1vexMNKDK82Pvh4ZlelKBSRELvnG7DKdXny5ReskDr9moaCB1r1le_MpnBd57P54tDutF5JsJFSW_iUoqwzPymNAbk/s1600/14022010(008).jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGOdIFbXUBdjyUQVW5qEdSK_sOO9chqQRPJz5qLD_JTGyfkUAHHQ1vexMNKDK82Pvh4ZlelKBSRELvnG7DKdXny5ReskDr9moaCB1r1le_MpnBd57P54tDutF5JsJFSW_iUoqwzPymNAbk/s320/14022010(008).jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453957456350028162" border="0" /></a>The Batavia’s bird of steel took me and my butterfly to a city called Batam. The trip through the clouds brought us to a city where my butterfly’s family resides. Batam welcomed us with sunny but windy weather and quiet roadways. I was wondering if Jakarta can be this quiet and peaceful.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZs22ISMJbVJIAp5ASNKsEhuk0hhpWjzx1lMWmVr1aVQhq7qRQLtDUEktH1bQ35B890Tvx0b6f6ROoALaRnBkcIh0DV9aplNWPKWrhRlB6W-LuFy6S20YSOQEWL-2JAz9Up8ZA6e3tI-xu/s1600/14022010(001).jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZs22ISMJbVJIAp5ASNKsEhuk0hhpWjzx1lMWmVr1aVQhq7qRQLtDUEktH1bQ35B890Tvx0b6f6ROoALaRnBkcIh0DV9aplNWPKWrhRlB6W-LuFy6S20YSOQEWL-2JAz9Up8ZA6e3tI-xu/s320/14022010(001).jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453958610251452706" border="0" /></a>I always dream of having my own house that I can call home, but this trip reminds me of the old saying, “Home is where the heart is”. Realize that no matter where we are, the place will always be homey if we share and bring our hearts along – because hearts don’t always have to reside only in your own house.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1UL2FtDhxVUxs4gzxlTca2iRaJc3u6tMW9v0r3ynMJCdTkRdpNGNMg-ci68jgsYdK91cWXvcK9kgujDPHNDfFYU0dJlOjiUsEHwJ-qFBfitZOGBgWoieW23QCkA7mNVCUmOzSH1O3IEV5/s1600/Valentine_03.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1UL2FtDhxVUxs4gzxlTca2iRaJc3u6tMW9v0r3ynMJCdTkRdpNGNMg-ci68jgsYdK91cWXvcK9kgujDPHNDfFYU0dJlOjiUsEHwJ-qFBfitZOGBgWoieW23QCkA7mNVCUmOzSH1O3IEV5/s320/Valentine_03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453959731233213826" border="0" /></a>Many places to go, but only one heart to share. So make yourself at home, anywhere, as long as you bring your heart with you. And when two hearts become one, it is even better. Happy Valentine My Butterfly.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-39599611878746170682010-03-29T00:32:00.001-07:002010-03-29T00:36:04.118-07:00LET IT RAIN<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyczhPGDoUJTARFDNFwnA5OViS5IXrSq6WgDHUkPEOPb8MbawXCKKMN2a3EEv-IuNts9jyxLMgOe-RE-6lsMVFH7zu1MDz90JWik4R1urqwoKi5HkCoT_L46_KzcnsLKE4Xs2PLBevgoCJ/s1600/DSC00002.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 354px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyczhPGDoUJTARFDNFwnA5OViS5IXrSq6WgDHUkPEOPb8MbawXCKKMN2a3EEv-IuNts9jyxLMgOe-RE-6lsMVFH7zu1MDz90JWik4R1urqwoKi5HkCoT_L46_KzcnsLKE4Xs2PLBevgoCJ/s320/DSC00002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453955590790827058" border="0" /></a><br />I can barely remember when was the last time I can enjoy the rain without asking it to stop. Since the flood often washed away the happiness in our house, I often wished I would never had to hear the rain again.<br /><br />I almost forgot how it feels to be able to enjoy every drops of water when it rains, until the time I walked away from my house and took myself higher from the ground. I’m now homeless, but I’m happy.<br /><br />Now whenever the sky gets cloudy, I can smile again. Whenever it drizzles, I can let it drop on my skin. And whenever it rains heavily, I just need to open an umbrella. It is good to be free. But I realize, there are so many other people who still suffer when it rains.<br /><br />Wish the rain will never cause anymore flood. But then again, the rain is not the one to blame. We are the victim of our own act. Nature is fair because it will always return what we have given them. Like I said, if we destroy it, it will destroy us. Don’t say I never warn you.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-30575521409074544072010-03-29T00:14:00.000-07:002010-03-29T00:28:50.531-07:00TINY SPARKLING GREEN TREE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OIpApYrVa6laFkybBJew8cXtHmCFV7lVvwsJI7HVscgjXAp-7XXitkYvikbt4pQ5ncPzrtpX6BranNy07pif4FAAmff0bXIyUmAzwZSufxTK4Hb3EOwKxb_BMHXhgM6dya7g078Nc9xa/s1600/01012010(021).jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OIpApYrVa6laFkybBJew8cXtHmCFV7lVvwsJI7HVscgjXAp-7XXitkYvikbt4pQ5ncPzrtpX6BranNy07pif4FAAmff0bXIyUmAzwZSufxTK4Hb3EOwKxb_BMHXhgM6dya7g078Nc9xa/s320/01012010(021).jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453951335752775986" border="0" /></a>“Do you know what is the best thing about this Christmas tree?” I asked my butterfly while standing near a small fan. “It wiggles when hit by the wind.”<br /><br />The sparkling green and golden colored leaves are so “compatible”… a perfect match. She laughed while watching the tiny tree wiggled on my hand.<br /><br />“But something is missing about this tree.” She said. “We should find a beautiful star to be put on top of it.”<br /><br />“Right, that would be perfect.” I replied.<br /><br />Mal to mal, places by places, we traveled. Through many trees we looked.<br /><br />But pity… Up until New Year we still have not found the right star for our Christmas tree.<br /><br />But one day…<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxth9bWNnD35huggz8tEP5RNUOPO7Ts12KledmuU1selsXkabtHcvmdx4tnSE9C0ctFgRVXIeMhzg-EXWk1T-lWudOqHuKyvjhqxI4mSKwT4b6w0JxI_xWFyotV9M8g7r51byDa7t3Xdo/s1600/GreenStar.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 110px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxth9bWNnD35huggz8tEP5RNUOPO7Ts12KledmuU1selsXkabtHcvmdx4tnSE9C0ctFgRVXIeMhzg-EXWk1T-lWudOqHuKyvjhqxI4mSKwT4b6w0JxI_xWFyotV9M8g7r51byDa7t3Xdo/s200/GreenStar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453953364236388178" border="0" /></a>I just realized that a star may appeared on a place we had never expected. There is our shining star, between our new-green-Polo-couple-shirt.<br /><br />Anyway, we may not always find or get what we are looking for. But if you try hard enough with faith and good intention, God will always give you something in return – and a lot better too.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-1537450301827157212010-01-25T22:52:00.000-08:002010-06-15T18:49:09.300-07:00A CHAT WITH SANTA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eXdPxFR91SdZqsSdzu2Qw6ToljWEBg0Gy1vBRdjaOOcGUrUrG8NPoAUUXUKGn0qd963XwNi0Q8mnMMNB6_kW1hJcAOX0kHIYQypxH9Nmxx18kNwOzYyJbWf57ZQWo30HEpUDw33GoBgd/s1600-h/DSC00161.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eXdPxFR91SdZqsSdzu2Qw6ToljWEBg0Gy1vBRdjaOOcGUrUrG8NPoAUUXUKGn0qd963XwNi0Q8mnMMNB6_kW1hJcAOX0kHIYQypxH9Nmxx18kNwOzYyJbWf57ZQWo30HEpUDw33GoBgd/s320/DSC00161.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430938339113018754" border="0" /></a>Last Christmas, it was snowing in Taman Anggrek. There were bears dancing with Merry Christmas music on a small cottage surrounded by ponds, lakes and fountains. There was a big poster saying “Please adopt us. We need new home. You can adopt us in Santa’s house.” So those cute dancing bears were looking for someone to adopt them.<br /><br />“It would be nice if we can adopt one or two bears and bring them home, wouldn’t it? I said to my butterfly.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2ojWRrqu5sz6_0ab-uaK8xtSwWGNWU6y69jZ_dFPnNpJM8DnrJTtjcqkhsGUD_Po-rlctrK26-CLiqpCA6meOpSOfSQrEo1H4jE_4jRX-rMGu8gRTpcKOQc31g77Woz-Vn_jPaKAPTzF/s1600-h/DSC00159.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2ojWRrqu5sz6_0ab-uaK8xtSwWGNWU6y69jZ_dFPnNpJM8DnrJTtjcqkhsGUD_Po-rlctrK26-CLiqpCA6meOpSOfSQrEo1H4jE_4jRX-rMGu8gRTpcKOQc31g77Woz-Vn_jPaKAPTzF/s200/DSC00159.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430940003649956242" border="0" /></a>“It must be very expensive.” She smiled. A few snowflakes dropped on our head.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih78S_7YcR_gK_1lBeSoNewD_ILCiTWjVm79nTZVh1-CVP8RrksYiD5rq5tG0LRAWVmtaV9_gp-FRbIm5N7UwiiKDSHy7yUtZcMm0L4Sa-KATSa3OQNmoEgtF6h2IDH1RMu0u0EFLkmK1O/s1600-h/DSC00151.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih78S_7YcR_gK_1lBeSoNewD_ILCiTWjVm79nTZVh1-CVP8RrksYiD5rq5tG0LRAWVmtaV9_gp-FRbIm5N7UwiiKDSHy7yUtZcMm0L4Sa-KATSa3OQNmoEgtF6h2IDH1RMu0u0EFLkmK1O/s320/DSC00151.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430938998273881538" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikw9o2tCj64xKUK51VkCbRdwKUlX2FvS2Kv0GS4oBHFaOdX6VJOXnxeQDrL5vs3lwMQIf0T3s58HCdDhLy00fS6mrk4gGUCTyHKTnM_wgjtNn7V2tP1dmSFIqBS17Dw2AbKor0IhvV53j6/s1600-h/DSC00152.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikw9o2tCj64xKUK51VkCbRdwKUlX2FvS2Kv0GS4oBHFaOdX6VJOXnxeQDrL5vs3lwMQIf0T3s58HCdDhLy00fS6mrk4gGUCTyHKTnM_wgjtNn7V2tP1dmSFIqBS17Dw2AbKor0IhvV53j6/s320/DSC00152.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430939223957208514" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ9u5mmfTQmEPKcdHxS0OEFhK6RQxCWUDm4Zpx1PvfUuENS8KTAZNwKygpeDiVV9XMUrVaSuUuKsAwinIxwv_FnWvTeQzdH3R0AaogvD2LRgWJrrez-KWo3sMPnh9qyTyww48BxzgaXKjc/s1600-h/DSC00153.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ9u5mmfTQmEPKcdHxS0OEFhK6RQxCWUDm4Zpx1PvfUuENS8KTAZNwKygpeDiVV9XMUrVaSuUuKsAwinIxwv_FnWvTeQzdH3R0AaogvD2LRgWJrrez-KWo3sMPnh9qyTyww48BxzgaXKjc/s320/DSC00153.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430939382239455730" border="0" /></a>“You maybe right. But let’s look for Santa’s house anyway.” I held her hand and walked passing crowds of people.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_MSgPXeNe5b1y-D0Trp3P92mNjJwEs3aeigLGOS0eeoPxRI_3vDoNa7nUun6nIIlHf8qxAsANahZ3Uny-k409hgbveEaX6-rW9Fy0jmj3zjyET7DjZu0bDAnVaYNHvyo5SxfXEdxAkQ3/s1600-h/DSC00160.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_MSgPXeNe5b1y-D0Trp3P92mNjJwEs3aeigLGOS0eeoPxRI_3vDoNa7nUun6nIIlHf8qxAsANahZ3Uny-k409hgbveEaX6-rW9Fy0jmj3zjyET7DjZu0bDAnVaYNHvyo5SxfXEdxAkQ3/s320/DSC00160.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430940471429410546" border="0" /></a>Walking around, we stumbled on Santa’s house. Santa’s house was in a form of a big dark brown boots. I looked around for its doors and finally found it. There was a note attached to the door, “Adopt the bears for only 275.000 rupiahs each.”<br /><br />“You are right. It’s too expensive.” I said with a sad look.<br /><br />“Let’s take a picture near the Christmas trees instead.” She pulled my hand towards the trees.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A few days later…</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpY7TrGP8dU-v0AKZqn9OMAeJeKW4sQ28sjF4tWak5YvvlRQ4BYZWHjc8ZwzVz-X5VPrtCPWj0BhRVK_Bs2sumeJDvFM85SuD5p0OiXgoQkjeLnsV5L1oEVrjDr8jBVDtpimCM5oFfw1Kz/s1600-h/DSC00191.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpY7TrGP8dU-v0AKZqn9OMAeJeKW4sQ28sjF4tWak5YvvlRQ4BYZWHjc8ZwzVz-X5VPrtCPWj0BhRVK_Bs2sumeJDvFM85SuD5p0OiXgoQkjeLnsV5L1oEVrjDr8jBVDtpimCM5oFfw1Kz/s200/DSC00191.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430940974106399570" border="0" /></a>I was about to wash my hands in my butterfly’s place, when I spotted a short red robed figure leaning on the stairway.<br /><br />“Santa, is that you?” I asked.<br /><br />“Well hello, yes, I am Santa.” He answered with a very tired voice.<br /><br />“What in the world are you doing here?” I asked again.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXha0HQZHfrLgpm0BnO-9Y0L5ksPGv_pT6SxWxh42daKnY0mG47tY4oXZJ81_iHJZEjV33-G_Y-JsCP_Ox8YT7m161iaTna1Nsl6fQ8kVaeQTwJlMn2PYaqZB6GgiEKvXnT8qSP8awfk_o/s1600-h/DSC00195.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXha0HQZHfrLgpm0BnO-9Y0L5ksPGv_pT6SxWxh42daKnY0mG47tY4oXZJ81_iHJZEjV33-G_Y-JsCP_Ox8YT7m161iaTna1Nsl6fQ8kVaeQTwJlMn2PYaqZB6GgiEKvXnT8qSP8awfk_o/s200/DSC00195.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430941692733143458" border="0" /></a>“Oh, I’m very tired after delivering those heavy Christmas presents for kids all over the world. You don’t mind if I take a rest here for a while do you?” Santa replied while showing his eyes and big round nose.<br /><br />“Oh, not at all. Take your time Santa. Would you like something to drink?” I offered him a glass of hot tea that my butterfly had made for me. “My girlfriend made this. Very warm and sweet. Here, drink some.”<br /><br />“Thanks a lot.” Santa took a few sip of my butterfly’s warm tea.<br /><br />Suddenly, I remembered Santa’s house and those dancing bears that we wanted to adopt at Taman Anggrek. So, I told Santa everything about how expensive it was to adopt them.<br /><br />“Oh no, that was not my house. You must’ve had the wrong address.” Santa replied.<br /><br />“So, that was not your house, and those were not your bears?” I asked.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdRp7CYMki-34sWJL3VNmN8k1k2lBDv4nQ6iZoEVIsccaFLPWaBIiXnPFYGOy1p_8US_DXl5cqgKsNf34cy-CiVuYd5ybJO5A68heOmhcMXJBadvDNwDvbL7duSqOiyURYg157udqQJt5/s1600-h/DSC00194.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdRp7CYMki-34sWJL3VNmN8k1k2lBDv4nQ6iZoEVIsccaFLPWaBIiXnPFYGOy1p_8US_DXl5cqgKsNf34cy-CiVuYd5ybJO5A68heOmhcMXJBadvDNwDvbL7duSqOiyURYg157udqQJt5/s200/DSC00194.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430942144404758594" border="0" /></a>“No, it was not my house, but those bears are my true friends.” Santa looked deeply into my eyes. “My friend, you will never have to pay in order to receive a gift from Santa. A gift from Santa is always FREE.”<br /><br />“I see… But those poor bears had danced all day and they had no home.” I said.<br /><br />“Don’t worry, they were there, because they were meant to be there. They are waiting for you and your butterfly so the two of you can have a great and Merry Christmas.” Santa explained. “I thank you for taking your butterfly to see my bear friends dancing. They really appreciate it.”<br /><br />“Well, thank you Santa. I really enjoy being with my butterfly accompanied by your bear friends.” I shook Santa’s hand. “Please send them my regards.”<br /><br />“No problem.” Santa walked out of the house with a wide smile.<br /><br />It’s funny… I was wondering how did Santa get in to the house? We had no chimneys… Hahahaaa… Merry Christmas everyone… Ho Ho Ho…!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-828108765646285462010-01-12T00:55:00.000-08:002010-01-12T17:42:59.917-08:00VOICE OF NATURE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJlSBhKzsJD7g9NmAmZ9NaVvfchaFL5SliHiVRgh7jtmipBYQ7Y1WedOyCcSGEIlXCJzVoVSzY4NoZ6hZpcrbDKqXXaQhlseJZ23hrHNseh-ldbwJNVsDrcnjV0y5jGruc0Jlq_dDntW5/s1600-h/Avatar_03.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJlSBhKzsJD7g9NmAmZ9NaVvfchaFL5SliHiVRgh7jtmipBYQ7Y1WedOyCcSGEIlXCJzVoVSzY4NoZ6hZpcrbDKqXXaQhlseJZ23hrHNseh-ldbwJNVsDrcnjV0y5jGruc0Jlq_dDntW5/s320/Avatar_03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425775508248736402" border="0" /></a>It is said that God created the world before He created the humans. Humans were created from this world itself. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. So we live and die along with this world. It is also said the energy that we absorb from nature are borrowed and never given. Unfortunately, we always have to return all the things we borrow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ZlrvnJahHCGqxpvt0ZZpMaoIPoqKYSmes4wWgWU9C4lDTd1yV7j3jLRI67WL5lQY-eBO74ediGKIRfu9WEvRS2Jiq7fAIPIUeUoMuW40pYTTwQ22g0ssjYGNCVjtumMSRmzoAfa4dAvE/s1600-h/Avatar_11.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ZlrvnJahHCGqxpvt0ZZpMaoIPoqKYSmes4wWgWU9C4lDTd1yV7j3jLRI67WL5lQY-eBO74ediGKIRfu9WEvRS2Jiq7fAIPIUeUoMuW40pYTTwQ22g0ssjYGNCVjtumMSRmzoAfa4dAvE/s320/Avatar_11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425775197753363490" border="0" /></a>Can you imagine the air that we breathe is actually borrowed? The air is free of charge, but the trees that release it are not. We are borrowing the energy of air from those trees. Not to mention all the “natural” food from the nature. We owe so much to the nature, yet we are destroying it slowly.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCh8kQYekhsnEdrBJkfHzCFQYjt89XknIYYl_P2PajxJx3xzUtPDLMJIDubtbGTjhgcvKM6bqAYnYHV6jha4Sp5ivDBAMkceglQEMK5caMtctXuko2tNaV2n2yccvcN_dNg80iF6Wh2sgK/s1600-h/Avatar_02.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCh8kQYekhsnEdrBJkfHzCFQYjt89XknIYYl_P2PajxJx3xzUtPDLMJIDubtbGTjhgcvKM6bqAYnYHV6jha4Sp5ivDBAMkceglQEMK5caMtctXuko2tNaV2n2yccvcN_dNg80iF6Wh2sgK/s320/Avatar_02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425774916991155970" border="0" /></a>This is our land… But it is not given… It is only borrowed. Don’t just take whatever you want, because you will have to return it later on.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZApQ1PAWMjVaCrVf_RRMdXmqUJH9Tt9ypg0fd6MVJH95NYaG6Qo2WFBWPeM22FCxeWe-ebsZlf6Z46aiLmYTf4w2XUP0tt5uRS_813gRqqelCxNjS54kWyr7SnP0U7hbgrphtYh5j5cGl/s1600-h/Avatar_10.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZApQ1PAWMjVaCrVf_RRMdXmqUJH9Tt9ypg0fd6MVJH95NYaG6Qo2WFBWPeM22FCxeWe-ebsZlf6Z46aiLmYTf4w2XUP0tt5uRS_813gRqqelCxNjS54kWyr7SnP0U7hbgrphtYh5j5cGl/s320/Avatar_10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425774641516659970" border="0" /></a>Nature does not take sides, but it can “hear” our deeds. Nature nurtures us but can also punish – Nature can give and take lives as well.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-26070156420731609042009-11-18T23:03:00.000-08:002009-11-18T23:54:41.423-08:00NOT-SO-NEW CLASS OF CRIMINALS - Ivan’s Journal<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA4Q55H-ATLgl5_CZlAOVBAG7JlKT4nImYls_puxIXojvhzdM94ekmI7ySdxpBpHf1eP-1AFlMzh1XnnpXEa7ZwUTNRuuAExiN4mswPdumnLdxpZpaw8c2O4WL095zzmhgfYLG5dyuEkRt/s1600/Joker08.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA4Q55H-ATLgl5_CZlAOVBAG7JlKT4nImYls_puxIXojvhzdM94ekmI7ySdxpBpHf1eP-1AFlMzh1XnnpXEa7ZwUTNRuuAExiN4mswPdumnLdxpZpaw8c2O4WL095zzmhgfYLG5dyuEkRt/s320/Joker08.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405708524471101762" border="0" /></a><br />There are people, who believe that one cannot be a good cop, if he does not know how it feels to be a criminal. It is obvious that in order to understand how other people think, we have to put ourselves in their shoes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-WcrSuEdJejWOTiLti64RJcjYqmNpx2r6YJ-Tv50Ksad37EXH2Vgx18fgmA8Z2oDltI162DhkS7gazd0bywNl_rWmleJVZoH7Hof19-b_wHq3fE590dyU53WWfQhCVUIwJbGz6iT9jYrO/s1600/Joker10.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 232px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-WcrSuEdJejWOTiLti64RJcjYqmNpx2r6YJ-Tv50Ksad37EXH2Vgx18fgmA8Z2oDltI162DhkS7gazd0bywNl_rWmleJVZoH7Hof19-b_wHq3fE590dyU53WWfQhCVUIwJbGz6iT9jYrO/s320/Joker10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405708143074227602" border="0" /></a>I used to think that criminals are simple. We just have to figure out what they are after. If they are too hungry, they will kill for foods. If they are obsessed about something, they will kill for money. Unfortunately, Batman had the same opinion. But Alfred the butler had different things in mind, “Perhaps he is a man you don’t fully understand either”. Alfred’s wise words make me realize that I do not understand what’s dwelling inside other people’s heads.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcy2VPI_LF8JzxnEDCIg1yuy3ApV5TXKrHYo_DCZnzet-dNH1I79W_vwyT9iHXsj2sknLU1uMM8R0gVFML0HJTfFyanQ4Gq8DtIyvMF7DZYYDkJZ50_KrFQbmVRR42KoE9BBqlo-D3X7A/s1600/Joker11.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcy2VPI_LF8JzxnEDCIg1yuy3ApV5TXKrHYo_DCZnzet-dNH1I79W_vwyT9iHXsj2sknLU1uMM8R0gVFML0HJTfFyanQ4Gq8DtIyvMF7DZYYDkJZ50_KrFQbmVRR42KoE9BBqlo-D3X7A/s320/Joker11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405708708005805026" border="0" /></a>What I mean by “Criminals” includes also people who do bad things to others and also their surroundings (not just people in prisons that do serious crimes). Believe it or not, some people are proud to be criminals. Some people even try to set new records in committing crimes. They did things not based on any judgment. Like a dog chasing cars, they do not know what to do with it if they caught one. They just “do” things.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mydQbiB0fDXdgvMVJxbzajdLhwdfYOMAqBK5jkW3QNtAwWTi4ccMs9ydrRsK5o6WDgOToL6t_A-IH2ZeuOGkVTKUfW_6VMPO5R18mzYrO4jfQ0HvBVLHcXtT8QUyxe7YnhzawMijlwRb/s1600/Joker09.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mydQbiB0fDXdgvMVJxbzajdLhwdfYOMAqBK5jkW3QNtAwWTi4ccMs9ydrRsK5o6WDgOToL6t_A-IH2ZeuOGkVTKUfW_6VMPO5R18mzYrO4jfQ0HvBVLHcXtT8QUyxe7YnhzawMijlwRb/s320/Joker09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405709142681843890" border="0" /></a>So you don’t need to be a Batman just to understand, that some people are just proud to be criminals – They cannot be bullied… They cannot be reasoned with… Some people just love to watch the world burned.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nDjbQn003RW_6QEFL4PexDYZP6ECWhbDnJJJcLhdAWs26Fzk2CKIApBLc88fE8m8Vga37iW_7vmtlsbks-3mSNbADXa_HvoHXhZPtzpyOI1VUC6R_T0FdaRNboLvsbmapPMT5-Reca9m/s1600/Joker06.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nDjbQn003RW_6QEFL4PexDYZP6ECWhbDnJJJcLhdAWs26Fzk2CKIApBLc88fE8m8Vga37iW_7vmtlsbks-3mSNbADXa_HvoHXhZPtzpyOI1VUC6R_T0FdaRNboLvsbmapPMT5-Reca9m/s320/Joker06.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405709340702093634" border="0" /></a>It is a pity. The fact is – it is not only “the Joker”. But we have LOTS of Jokers running around in this world.<br /><br />Usually, it does not matter how people think. The real matter is, “What are the impacts caused by their thoughts ?”<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-18120965181293008742009-10-21T18:29:00.000-07:002009-10-21T18:42:11.552-07:00HE IS HERE... I SMELL HIM - Ivan’s Journal<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUvNWUBb-HN_RSvwWdpBG81VcTTuTi9QFuufWM98gb995h1n5Gs_w300CR52wDS9z4ahxY_itzM5p2DKGyjrHgUw1KlS133la10H52bJ_fhpHlrGdjYmuhCsj5y0R1fNHCE4bogT1pEzv/s1600-h/Perfume02.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUvNWUBb-HN_RSvwWdpBG81VcTTuTi9QFuufWM98gb995h1n5Gs_w300CR52wDS9z4ahxY_itzM5p2DKGyjrHgUw1KlS133la10H52bJ_fhpHlrGdjYmuhCsj5y0R1fNHCE4bogT1pEzv/s320/Perfume02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395230764270653490" border="0" /></a><br />Many women said that they can tolerate men who are broke, short, fat and even ugly. But there is one thing that women cannot stand about their men – which is, if they smell like dead fishes in the market. Believe it or not, women value aroma higher than they value money. But if you say that “materialistic” women do not care about “the smell” of their lovers, than you probably right. That’s simply because materialistic women never kiss their men – but only their money.<br /><br />Recently I found an interesting fact about perfumes in a marketing seminar held in Ritz Carlton Hotel. The fact said that women like to try different perfumes far more often than men. Women like to try or experiment different perfume’s brand or aroma, while men usually stick and loyal to one perfume brand they like. The fact also said that men do not need to change their perfume (or their body aroma), as long as their women love it.<br /><br />I’m not saying that every man should groom themselves to become like women. But one conclusion about this fact is that you should be happy if a woman compliments or even complains about how you smell. It means she has an interest on you – or at least, pays attention to you. If she never compliments or complains about how you look and smell, than maybe she only concerns about your money.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-64393098465412715672009-10-20T00:56:00.000-07:002010-01-06T20:20:41.182-08:00BEING DIFFERENT<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFwnm-NdSgOl-c1lOCygsTNYIeoAR6ASKUzzdxtie1Ge6iv3L7IFta9cjxXIMp_zo6WgXaf64hHI2zGOL456Ukc0iN6ucgI3m8jj3aHRDyoXPt4NZSP9N1QUuOxZL9kUNbMdp18mcxN8v/s1600-h/InglouriousBasterds03.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFwnm-NdSgOl-c1lOCygsTNYIeoAR6ASKUzzdxtie1Ge6iv3L7IFta9cjxXIMp_zo6WgXaf64hHI2zGOL456Ukc0iN6ucgI3m8jj3aHRDyoXPt4NZSP9N1QUuOxZL9kUNbMdp18mcxN8v/s320/InglouriousBasterds03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423847345645216066" border="0" /></a><br />If only we can choose our own identity, or where and when we are born, than maybe we can be whoever we want to be. People cannot choose their skin and blood color. Whether you are born in the west or the east does not make you any more superior than others.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4zEWP1vx7kQ5lKDSjKvu7vMu1zb2qLQrDe7G971FPZz22jy_QJdUtRvRasKDkCINVEPXkPV154ALWWalIKkcw8ZKx1pXgGuheQuCLegBcV7btb_H7mnsXb3NRPBOoqraMjZPL_U3mZL-/s1600-h/InglouriousBasterds02.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4zEWP1vx7kQ5lKDSjKvu7vMu1zb2qLQrDe7G971FPZz22jy_QJdUtRvRasKDkCINVEPXkPV154ALWWalIKkcw8ZKx1pXgGuheQuCLegBcV7btb_H7mnsXb3NRPBOoqraMjZPL_U3mZL-/s320/InglouriousBasterds02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423847686690668946" border="0" /></a>Is being different really necessary? Why people tend to consider anything different as a threat? The reason we are constantly at war, is maybe because we cannot accept the fact that we are all different.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmltk-dBi7X75dSHcK3o1hwzJu-CC63kTXEW3TET1lxy2hjJgCmGnoXSqAzt3dXLZ9Ef8QS-QTOvVwCkBr0Myf8lrW2ONPClcZaHh1T8YeeCEAvQAg463iQuvJnCziGGIb4cRbFD5HTSrY/s1600-h/InglouriousBasterds04.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmltk-dBi7X75dSHcK3o1hwzJu-CC63kTXEW3TET1lxy2hjJgCmGnoXSqAzt3dXLZ9Ef8QS-QTOvVwCkBr0Myf8lrW2ONPClcZaHh1T8YeeCEAvQAg463iQuvJnCziGGIb4cRbFD5HTSrY/s320/InglouriousBasterds04.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423847834364761362" border="0" /></a>Like John Lennon said in his “Imagine” song, “You may say I’m a dreamer… But I’m not the only one…”<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-73952549011856322402009-10-06T02:18:00.000-07:002010-01-06T20:54:36.318-08:00YOU AND YOURSELF<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSZ2VzsXfySzbSkRoppzTpu74-bvrgDUXM1N6uiAuzMYVeIk0NuPephnki6cYUUUMA2mtrMvmi3TdmTVYvu6J4L_iRWU3VQa6WhrDjxoozAem68lVP6ZrjRLwnp8oBNhy6yBg0p6Grut_/s1600-h/Surrogates01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSZ2VzsXfySzbSkRoppzTpu74-bvrgDUXM1N6uiAuzMYVeIk0NuPephnki6cYUUUMA2mtrMvmi3TdmTVYvu6J4L_iRWU3VQa6WhrDjxoozAem68lVP6ZrjRLwnp8oBNhy6yBg0p6Grut_/s320/Surrogates01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423856747318603202" border="0" /></a><br />What is real and what is not? It is hard to tell, especially in this cyber era. Life is dangerous… That is true and that is why surrogates are invented. We can be anyone we want to be – men/women, tall/short, long/short hairs, white/black skin – anything you can think of… We can run our daily life “risk-free”, physically and virtually… Perfect… Human perfection – What could go wrong?<br /><br />The problem occurs when it becomes a lifestyle… and lifestyle causes addiction – anything that you cannot live without. You cannot resist yourself from hiding behind your so-called-perfect surrogates. It is the “you” that is not actually you. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKawny9Df-QwBkBwy-yIKZvM5gHvqfMC90IbgUDUV69Ff8JVVAwDWck6nK4_S0sLNLNhi6PNnrzPvuycs1kWA5IHYu5u0ZO4uj8_Fb9sQzElL4mLMTsopAIEhHtXSuGtASdTBXvzRx8XtH/s1600-h/Surrogates07.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKawny9Df-QwBkBwy-yIKZvM5gHvqfMC90IbgUDUV69Ff8JVVAwDWck6nK4_S0sLNLNhi6PNnrzPvuycs1kWA5IHYu5u0ZO4uj8_Fb9sQzElL4mLMTsopAIEhHtXSuGtASdTBXvzRx8XtH/s320/Surrogates07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389416071519573554" border="0" /></a>So the people will wonder, is that really you? The most important thing in this life is getting trust from other people – which is not gonna happen if you are covering yourself with surrogates.<br /><br />Lying to other people is one thing, but lying to yourself is another. By hiding your true self, you are denying yourself and living in a lie. Nevertheless, people will find out about your true identity and who you really are anyway. A happy man is the one who truly satisfied with himself or herself.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMRwXhJPv7pP0egb5ZUKk2PwYq2FOKEFl3dE4C0Q5S-qUwMOZW6-J48HUicbF_tlYiIMCdjUV4TZRacYLO4Yt1yUw7GoVk1W4-YE5vC2fAnrKyyvjzAf-EXzROMqbuaDp7hCzJ8_KzO5u/s1600-h/Surrogates11.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMRwXhJPv7pP0egb5ZUKk2PwYq2FOKEFl3dE4C0Q5S-qUwMOZW6-J48HUicbF_tlYiIMCdjUV4TZRacYLO4Yt1yUw7GoVk1W4-YE5vC2fAnrKyyvjzAf-EXzROMqbuaDp7hCzJ8_KzO5u/s320/Surrogates11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389416834920965650" border="0" /></a>Come to think of it, we are already living our life as “half-surrogates” by now – by hiding behind our BlackBerry, the Internet, chat rooms and other cyber stuffs. But who gives a shit? It is fun… isn’t it?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2Yqkb3YIKdQThZe9zKGADUyU4IYBjWrYvP1XK2N2YSyceW2E_7iomflMhJHYqFPTxtO9FUfy-xL9Q7QEZNjz4Mv1DiAI0aHMslc0-OE-tixMP0xRzjz7LTn7zTi5RCQAHzZLSQUn4Pv2/s1600-h/Surrogates05.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2Yqkb3YIKdQThZe9zKGADUyU4IYBjWrYvP1XK2N2YSyceW2E_7iomflMhJHYqFPTxtO9FUfy-xL9Q7QEZNjz4Mv1DiAI0aHMslc0-OE-tixMP0xRzjz7LTn7zTi5RCQAHzZLSQUn4Pv2/s320/Surrogates05.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389417171055191010" border="0" /></a>As long as we are still remain as humans who depend only on ourselves.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-653032750615295472009-09-08T21:00:00.000-07:002010-01-06T20:58:10.548-08:00REVENGE IS “NOT” SWEET<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13JWlAerQd5BUCNKiJepZ3p3xim9__S7CX83JNN13x4xztR79L0rsBX9_pgwhVBd3AXt0ILNY3f7rVfrIQW5yPSfL9asxoxrNmFswsv_525nCPMZnhoe_4xENzD_u0foUK_O3Pi68DY6X/s1600-h/Sweeney01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13JWlAerQd5BUCNKiJepZ3p3xim9__S7CX83JNN13x4xztR79L0rsBX9_pgwhVBd3AXt0ILNY3f7rVfrIQW5yPSfL9asxoxrNmFswsv_525nCPMZnhoe_4xENzD_u0foUK_O3Pi68DY6X/s320/Sweeney01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423857681715519938" border="0" /></a><br />People do nice things to others…Yes, that is natural. People also do bad things to others… Yes, that is “also” natural. There are people in this world who feel that certain people need to be taught a lesson. They think that certain people need to be taught some manners. Yes, they have their own agenda and some of them even live with hatred and urges for revenge for whole their life.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC0qU0BivrWcGlefSdjzJ6yx0UgONC0vVi0PRYbQGG3d8HnD7uouNoTA3zeSAhx25bR3hDEHyY6sHzo9Fkw8wLxc0eHsCl-shQWi7rimToNCOYZx5IKxoSpBFNgwC9Y7t_b-_kg9lGYMFN/s1600-h/Sweeney05.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC0qU0BivrWcGlefSdjzJ6yx0UgONC0vVi0PRYbQGG3d8HnD7uouNoTA3zeSAhx25bR3hDEHyY6sHzo9Fkw8wLxc0eHsCl-shQWi7rimToNCOYZx5IKxoSpBFNgwC9Y7t_b-_kg9lGYMFN/s200/Sweeney05.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379313629574634786" border="0" /></a>Blood for blood – soul for soul… Maybe that was “the thoughts” Benjamin Barker had in mind when he returned to London. Clouded by rage and vengeance, he was determined to seek revenge upon Judge Turpin – the evil man who was responsible for Barker’s miserable lives. He became another person – He became Sweeney Todd with totally new character and attitudes. But the question was… was it worth it?<br /><br />There are only two kinds of people in this world – People with the ability to love and people with the ability to hate. Love and hate can emerge at the same time. They can also be mixed up. Bearing a grudge is painful, although most people have no choice. Bearing a grudge makes us become like the living dead. We cannot think clearly, we loose our feelings – and above all, we loose our conscience.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHoCkQWMUTcz3xIkmKO3tHornnGhVmcB-iE0EoUbvaIGzCGNSzi8gPBwDATsx2kCiMbECq-kNIX_NTdXN8YNykn1S1Vu17YEWUtpcnHL2EeerKk_i4t4rbSfGphTkFNNup4bRjhmfttvx/s1600-h/Sweeney02.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHoCkQWMUTcz3xIkmKO3tHornnGhVmcB-iE0EoUbvaIGzCGNSzi8gPBwDATsx2kCiMbECq-kNIX_NTdXN8YNykn1S1Vu17YEWUtpcnHL2EeerKk_i4t4rbSfGphTkFNNup4bRjhmfttvx/s320/Sweeney02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379314186154454002" border="0" /></a>People are doomed since they loose the ability to love. So if you can never forget and can never forgive – just make sure you still have “love” – or the ability to love.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUX8jUMTQI00gaDi2EFXGtL_fCC8-3kEh9nScZw3eAE7M7a4mvoiLfkWdNei5R5PbqAFcRzCZaup58jWpxI2YGxyWVreKuNjjwXtKHuPq2jIvBK3A2UAtWD5iKC4YXLb6zbo9EZDwMulTp/s1600-h/Sweeney10.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 152px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUX8jUMTQI00gaDi2EFXGtL_fCC8-3kEh9nScZw3eAE7M7a4mvoiLfkWdNei5R5PbqAFcRzCZaup58jWpxI2YGxyWVreKuNjjwXtKHuPq2jIvBK3A2UAtWD5iKC4YXLb6zbo9EZDwMulTp/s200/Sweeney10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379314624229868114" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9106417798464977274.post-30067342924877572742009-09-01T22:47:00.000-07:002010-01-06T22:35:22.149-08:00RESPECTED OR FEARED<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiC8Sg3f54bhOQsYcUIvrnBbP0PWGxj0T5h1UKEg6j2l5mpb4ebk7vHRdvHPSItwexPi9PKo3YbXrCrWLR1ork1uI-gONLKdcNaKvLjs_cWBL1USXVZB41rx5DrE5yZaYbMjvrn16ckRmm/s1600-h/Untouchables01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiC8Sg3f54bhOQsYcUIvrnBbP0PWGxj0T5h1UKEg6j2l5mpb4ebk7vHRdvHPSItwexPi9PKo3YbXrCrWLR1ork1uI-gONLKdcNaKvLjs_cWBL1USXVZB41rx5DrE5yZaYbMjvrn16ckRmm/s320/Untouchables01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423882586899365458" border="0" /></a><br />There is one quality that is desired by all men in this world – Power. Among those powerful men in the world, there are those who are respected or those who are feared. The Untouchables showed clear examples of both. Eliot Ness from the police force was assigned to bring down one of the most powerful man to justice, Al Capone.<br /><br />With all previous attempts failed to take Capone down, Ness realized that he was cornered because almost all parts of the city were bribed and controlled by Capone. Ness found he could not trust anyone, until he met Jim Malone, an incorruptible police, who was driven away from the corps.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNG-2O1zmuiPO2iRSx_i5e99wvdgyO1kuRiWJ2qsQBcuwz2J-GbwQNqHOkI-AgNnwiquf5KZ0vJ21zQ4vSUDAyagecrVh4baB_UGAewn49ME78_aRBLjv9URafDgDMFL1UkGvJyhIKUfQV/s1600-h/Untouchables05.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNG-2O1zmuiPO2iRSx_i5e99wvdgyO1kuRiWJ2qsQBcuwz2J-GbwQNqHOkI-AgNnwiquf5KZ0vJ21zQ4vSUDAyagecrVh4baB_UGAewn49ME78_aRBLjv9URafDgDMFL1UkGvJyhIKUfQV/s320/Untouchables05.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376744899143383858" border="0" /></a>Malone taught Ness a very important lesson. “If you do not want to get rotten apples, don’t get them from the barrels. Get them straight from the trees.” With half of the city police corrupted, Ness and Malone had to recruit their team from the new candidates who are still trained. They are rookies, but still fresh and clean. Since then, Ness had the right people on board to bring down Capone.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-wXhkeiW_DHbr_0RcU9B1_x87Q2k-wTi7dbyHwQXTZIw59SeWiv8M_-PQdZMpXKtPt9FjRqLw0gdm5Ikh39lZQjtaF6YmM_XU4EtwkuRgXOskZQAkLHnhnZS_0dF6Qb7Qp10ETGWVp8Z/s1600-h/Untouchables03.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-wXhkeiW_DHbr_0RcU9B1_x87Q2k-wTi7dbyHwQXTZIw59SeWiv8M_-PQdZMpXKtPt9FjRqLw0gdm5Ikh39lZQjtaF6YmM_XU4EtwkuRgXOskZQAkLHnhnZS_0dF6Qb7Qp10ETGWVp8Z/s320/Untouchables03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376743464635544322" border="0" /></a>Be thankful if you are still fresh and clean, because you still have a chance to be respected. Be careful not to choose apples from the barrels, but choose them straight from the trees. Evil triumphs only because they are feared – for they can never be respected.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDi8lS4fefLpNvsUxVePxSHwR_cAprYujPvD34hQml_5-I5oZuseSOSaJkO1y9FoEGhe9qb1DE4tyTj5icJlLpLm3MI5qMJhq00QhCPK-zci1vbuHbP8rQbHR9yzcxl1EKrzZQAaXdSj34/s1600-h/Untouchables02.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDi8lS4fefLpNvsUxVePxSHwR_cAprYujPvD34hQml_5-I5oZuseSOSaJkO1y9FoEGhe9qb1DE4tyTj5icJlLpLm3MI5qMJhq00QhCPK-zci1vbuHbP8rQbHR9yzcxl1EKrzZQAaXdSj34/s320/Untouchables02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376744044186290770" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3xcJB_limKZrAsTSbL5FDHkEXiawEmOpZB2pjb2BzBxbUxkPJnPWKKpRT2gUaXoOHuRLfrQgasrdMcM0DmehcG2pqwfaNiOwfEZfPs-9OjVy-eWjlrgNPQY_AZA9RV_K0ivrbLXeEXprV/s1600-h/Untouchables07.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3xcJB_limKZrAsTSbL5FDHkEXiawEmOpZB2pjb2BzBxbUxkPJnPWKKpRT2gUaXoOHuRLfrQgasrdMcM0DmehcG2pqwfaNiOwfEZfPs-9OjVy-eWjlrgNPQY_AZA9RV_K0ivrbLXeEXprV/s320/Untouchables07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376744519483557650" border="0" /></a>Whether being respected or feared, it all depends on what you do and how you do things to others. Ness and Capone built their power and reputation through different paths. A man cannot be respected and feared at the same time.<br /><br />So, what kind of a man are you? Respected or feared?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ivan the Freelancer</span>Ivan Mulyadihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03120398551666718576noreply@blogger.com0