關於 what happened to hanging with friends ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

“Sayang, baju kotor semua dalam bakul nie ya?” tanya aku

“Haah, oh dekat atas ada satu baju sayang sangkut belakang pintu” jawab isteri aku

Aku terus menaiki anak anak tangga untuk mengambil baju kotor isteri aku tanpa banyak soal lagi.
...Continue Reading" dear, all the dirty clothes in this basket?" ask me

"Haah, oh there's one shirt love stuck in the back of the door" answer my wife

I keep on my stairs to pick up my wife's dirty clothes with no more questions.

After taking it, I went down and put the clothes in the washing machine with the clothes that haven't been washed yet.

"eh brother, let my baby wash later tomorrow"

" it's okay dear, let me do it. Dear just taking a break." answer me trying to comfort

Done pressing the washing machine "start" the washing machine, I went to the fridge. Then I open look at what dish is left.

"oh a lot is over" Getus my heart

While waiting for the washing machine ready to wash I'm getting ready to go to the supermarket. Not far from home. So hurry up and buy a dish.

" eh where are you going?" ask my wife happiness

" for a while dear, I want to buy a dish. I've done a lot of people watching that " answer me while reaching the car key

"takpelah bro, later love can go buy it yourself"

" it's okay, this is my duty too. It's a pity that you don't have to be tired. Just sit and rest ya " I said that I give advice for my wife to rest. I pity seeing him, woke up early in the morning. Cleaning up the house. Treat me. Entertaining the child. He made it all the way. Sometimes watching him don't have "me time".

" brother okay to harinie? It's a pity to see my brother doing everything I want to do?" it's about my wife that I'm sure to love

"eh brother is okay, let me do all the work dear harinie ya" answer me to calm his heart.

That's why I decided to do all the work, I want to let him rest.

I turned on the car engine and went straight to the supermarket. When driving I was pensive thinking of something.

Actually my situation at that time I don't have enough money, many problems come, business is slow, people ask for debt again, so many things to pay.

I'm tangled.

I don't know why I feel so wrong to let my wife do everything before. I feel so guilty. And that's my responsibility. My duty.

After I decided to help my wife, I keep doing it without a lot of questions. I'm trying to lose my mistakes.

"torn torn" sound horn sounds loud behind my car. Ah it's a green light. I'm high for a while at the signal light.

I entered the gear d and continue the journey to market.

Just arrived at the market, I see in my wallet there is only rm50, I think what dish is enough to buy.

Without Care, my intention is to try to give my wife and children to eat.

I took one chicken, a kilo of wings, a kilo of chicken feet, vegetables, a little raw material, a piece of egg, bread, and a few small items for my child.

" is this enough?" I'm about to think that there's only rm50 in my wallet.

"all of them rm49. 20"

Thank God it's suitable! I smile because the money I have is enough for my family.

Without delay I keep going home. Just until I arrange all the dishes, keep the raw ingredients, and I see the washing machine is done. I immediately put my clothes on.

"Thank God this weather is good" I said while looking at the sky

I managed to take my wife away, apparently she just noticed my move from a while ago

"thank you bang" while give the most charming smile I think

I'm only able to be disputed. Hihi

Since the other day, the next day I suddenly felt something else. My heart feels calm.

When I think of the problems that I face directly I find an unexpected solution.

The person I owe is the one who said pay when it's okay, there are people who are balu, I'm shocked too. What is this dream.

My slow business, suddenly got attention. My car washing center is so focused. Cushion Wash orders also get a celebration. I'm happy in my life.

The day of the coming day then I feel something in my life, it feels easy, my time that I've been feeling like chasing to be a lot of time. I fully spent serving my wife and my children.

Because of this feeling i found a ustaz, it happened that he came to give me a quote. And I'm telling you what's going on.

The Ustaz said, that is the advantage of a husband if he serves his wife. The responsibility and making a living should be.

Not only ringgit is a priority, but in terms of spiritual is also very important.

If the wife's heart is easy, then the husband's business will also be easy.

I don't want to show that I'm a wonderful. Not at all. But this is the experience of a husband who serves the spiritual wife.

We don't know, brother, we're tired of looking for sustenance. They're tired of serving us too. There are those who are looking for sustenance together. After that, treat you, brother. Entertaining the kids again. Enjoying the house again. Tired.

We husbands don't always think that wives need to obey their husbands. But our true responsibility is that we close one eye.

More if talking about polygamy, everyone wants to show off the champion and the other one is still udder. There are people who are kind of hanging out with friends. Remember to remember. Wives and children need our attention.

Don't be like that, husbands.

The task that the wife has done is just because she helps, because of the intention to help us. After all the affairs of the house needs Sunnah. I don't want my husband to follow me.

Remember, the happiness of the husband lies in the heart of a happy wife.

So this is why my life feels orderly when one of them I have served my wife's spiritual. Really woman is the jewelry of the world.

I hope this story can benefit all husbands. So our choice is to live in harmony or a mess.

Love your wife is not only with speech but with deeds.

That's how it is.

- Saiful Bahari -
I love my wifeTranslated

很多爸爸媽媽們家裡是有裝那種媽媽監視器，在外面時候可以用手機看到家裡面的狀況。我本來就在想在家裡做月子時候可以看看小孩狀況，可以給我一點安心， （我也一直很好奇我們不在時狗狗貓貓在家裡到底在幹嘛哈哈）。 但我安裝了一天候，卻發現了連不到其中一台監控。所以我重新連上的時候，看到的畫面真的讓我嚇了一跳。我看到了別人的客廳！看到了粉色的椅子，兩隻大狗狗躺在地上，墻壁上的婚紗照。我馬上反應到客服專線，但我還是覺得需要通知對方讓他們知道他們的家裡畫面是可以連的到。想了很久，沒有其他辦法就等主人回家。幾個小時後，看到了狗狗跳起來，主人回家了。我就用了廣播功能跟女生很尷尬的說，”喂？真的不好意思。。。我不想嚇到妳，但我這邊也有＊＊的監視器，我看得到你們畫面，想好心的告知你一下因為這樣對你們很危險，我已經打給客服中心，建議妳也打過去反應。“ 看到了主人有被嚇到了愣住不回我，但很明顯的有聽到了，我就安心了然後斷線了。

客服是跟我說他們也不是主我附近，不是因為這樣會連到他們機器。他們也搞不清楚。之後他們也沒跟我說什麼解釋，所以現在比較不敢用。因為越來越多人用這些網路監視器想提醒大家要小心一點，一定要記得改本機的密碼，不然很容易讓別人連到你們家私人畫面。

Funny/scary thing that has happened to me lately. I know a lot of my friends in Taiwan, especially other parents, have installed remote cameras in their homes to watch their homes/kids/etc from their smartphones when away from the house. Well curiosity got the better of me (I've always wanted to know what my dogs and cat do while I'm out of the house lol), and I decided to install and see. The first day after installing, I discovered the camera wasn't connecting to the smartphone app, so I redid the app, only to discover that I wasn't seeing my own house, but I saw SOMEONE ELSE'S living room. I could see everything in detail from the pink breakfast chairs to the two big dogs lying in front of the door to even the wedding portrait hanging on the wall behind the sofa. This camera is a 360degree remote-controlled camera, so I could basically see everything in their common living space. I called customer service and complained, but I also felt that these people should know that their privacy could be intruded upon. I thought and thought about what options I had, but the only thing I could do was wait for the owners to get home. After a couple hours, I saw the dogs jump up and I knew the owners got home. Using the speaker option on the app, I said, "Hello? I'm really sorry to tell you this way, and I don't mean to scare you, but I have the same surveillance system, and I can see your home. I thought you should know for your own safety. I already contacted customer service, and you might want to do the same." The company told me later that the lady contacted them as well, but she doesn't live anywhere in my vicinity, so that wouldn't be the reason I got into her system. They're puzzled as well, and I haven't heard back from customer service with any more explanation :/

Just wanted to warn everyone out there with these cameras that this could happen, and make sure you change the default password on the camera! Or else, it could be your living room I see next lol. But anyways, this whole thing has kind of scared me off of using the cameras.

Nobody’s Fool　　( January 2011 )

Yoshitomo Nara

Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.

It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.

But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.

While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.

As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.

In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.

Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.

Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!

I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.

Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.

By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.

After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.

And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.

Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.

But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.

The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.

Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.

After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.

Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.

After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.

I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….

Hey everyone, this is my second video on YouTube and will probably be the last for the year and DECADE. In this Vlog I’m hanging around with my friends.

The footage of Sela wasn't a lot because we took most of the time to catch up anyways. Hope you guys like this vlog and don't think its boring haha

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