http://www.iloveliquid9.com/
Thursday, 14 August 2008
Tuesday, 12 August 2008
Trust Your Buds
After the Coke Zero Game, followed by the Rooftop Racer, Coca Cola has come up with yet another kick-ass game – Trust your Buds. Log on to http://www.trustyourbuds.com.au/ and watch these catapulting tongues tryin’ to get some Coke Zero into them.
Monday, 11 August 2008
Like a bird in the sky
Once upon a time, there was a bird. He was adorned with two perfect wings and with glossy, colourful, marvelous feathers. In short, he was a creature made to fly about freely in the sky, bringing joy to everyone who saw him.
One day, a woman saw this bird and fell in love with him. She watched his flight, her mouth wide in amazement, her heart pounding, her eyes shining with excitement. She invited the bird to fly with her, and the two traveled across the sky in perfect harmony. She admired and venerated and celebrated that bird.
But then she thought: He might want to visit far-off mountains! She was afraid, afraid that she would never feel the same way about any other bird. And she felt envy, envy for the bird’s ability to fly.
And she felt alone.
And she thought: I’m going to set a trap. The next time the bird appears, he will never leave again.
The bird, who was also in love, returned the following day, fell into the trap and was put on a cage.
She looked at the bird everyday. There he was, the object of her passion, and she showed him to her friends, who said: Now you have everything you could possibly want.
However, a strange transformation began to take place: now that she had the bird and no longer needed to woo him, she began to lose interest. The bird, unable to fly and express the true meaning of his life, began to waste away and his feathers to lose their gloss; he grew ugly; and the woman no longer paid him any attention, except by feeding him and cleaning his cage.
One day, the bird died. The woman felt terribly sad and spent all her time thinking about him. But she did not remember the cage, she thought only of the day when she had seen him for the first time, flying contentedly amongst the clouds.
If she had looked more deeply into herself, she would have realized that what had thrilled her about the bird was his freedom, the energy of his wings in motion, not his physical body.
Without the bird, her life too lost all meaning, and Death came knocking at her door. ‘Why have you come? she asked Death. ‘So that you can fly once more with him across the sky’, Death replied. ‘If you had allowed him to come and go, you would have loved and admired him even more; alas, you now need me in order to find him again.’
One day, a woman saw this bird and fell in love with him. She watched his flight, her mouth wide in amazement, her heart pounding, her eyes shining with excitement. She invited the bird to fly with her, and the two traveled across the sky in perfect harmony. She admired and venerated and celebrated that bird.
But then she thought: He might want to visit far-off mountains! She was afraid, afraid that she would never feel the same way about any other bird. And she felt envy, envy for the bird’s ability to fly.
And she felt alone.
And she thought: I’m going to set a trap. The next time the bird appears, he will never leave again.
The bird, who was also in love, returned the following day, fell into the trap and was put on a cage.
She looked at the bird everyday. There he was, the object of her passion, and she showed him to her friends, who said: Now you have everything you could possibly want.
However, a strange transformation began to take place: now that she had the bird and no longer needed to woo him, she began to lose interest. The bird, unable to fly and express the true meaning of his life, began to waste away and his feathers to lose their gloss; he grew ugly; and the woman no longer paid him any attention, except by feeding him and cleaning his cage.
One day, the bird died. The woman felt terribly sad and spent all her time thinking about him. But she did not remember the cage, she thought only of the day when she had seen him for the first time, flying contentedly amongst the clouds.
If she had looked more deeply into herself, she would have realized that what had thrilled her about the bird was his freedom, the energy of his wings in motion, not his physical body.
Without the bird, her life too lost all meaning, and Death came knocking at her door. ‘Why have you come? she asked Death. ‘So that you can fly once more with him across the sky’, Death replied. ‘If you had allowed him to come and go, you would have loved and admired him even more; alas, you now need me in order to find him again.’
Sunday, 10 August 2008
A start is a good thing
Today evening, I heard a little story… you know like those short films with a message. It was about a young boy who fancied something a few meters away and had his first objective in life – to go get it. So he crawled across the room towards that fancy toy and experienced his first feat, when he turned around and saw the number of tiles he crossed. And from there on… there was no looking back.
He made an even bigger attempt to stand and reach for that toy on the bed. He fell on his knees more than the count he knew – one, two and three. But he kept falling, picking himself up, falling, then rising up again, until he laid his hands on that shiny little object – the priceless thing that brought him so much joy in seeing his knees and palms all brown n blue. Cause everytime he saw his bruised knees and chapped palms, he knew he’d won a piece of joy.
With that little step, he now walked miles, and one day celebrated his first 100 metre state-level sprint. That day, he had another piece of joy added to his bounty – the joy of being faster than most runners on the field. No, he didn’t stand 1st, 2nd or 3rd.
So what if he didn't carry home a trophy, a medal or a certificate? He carried home something even more precious – a message from his own act – “Never stop trying; Nothing is Bad. It’s only important to start.”
The reason he tried, the reason he stood 4th.
He made an even bigger attempt to stand and reach for that toy on the bed. He fell on his knees more than the count he knew – one, two and three. But he kept falling, picking himself up, falling, then rising up again, until he laid his hands on that shiny little object – the priceless thing that brought him so much joy in seeing his knees and palms all brown n blue. Cause everytime he saw his bruised knees and chapped palms, he knew he’d won a piece of joy.
With that little step, he now walked miles, and one day celebrated his first 100 metre state-level sprint. That day, he had another piece of joy added to his bounty – the joy of being faster than most runners on the field. No, he didn’t stand 1st, 2nd or 3rd.
So what if he didn't carry home a trophy, a medal or a certificate? He carried home something even more precious – a message from his own act – “Never stop trying; Nothing is Bad. It’s only important to start.”
The reason he tried, the reason he stood 4th.
Wednesday, 6 August 2008
Sonnet of Solitude
I poured my entire soul into a song
Much like the heart of a passionate lover;
But now the tune sounds too frail,
As I’d begun to figure out his devilish desire.
The key-notes then put my sentiments to test,
I wondered why they doin’ this to me,
But I ain’t givin’ up on my lyrics and tunes,
As I prepared myself that the worse was yet for me to see.
With days multiplying and words the same,
I heard my song rehearse without end;
For he was my inspiration in my every line
My sonnet, my audience, my friend.
I wrote each stanza in his sight
And I imagined him in every word;
For if I were on my own to sing n write,
I doubt I’d ever step into this world.
Until the day I absorbed his absence
And words just went astray;
It was a first for my song
To go pale, and rhythmless gray.
For months my song was put to rest
And my mind & heart to debate;
I got some answers, harsh and new,
And some that I still await.
But on a rainy afternoon, I saw the clouds collide,
And I realized the sky doesn't for long stay blued;
Just why I won’t let my loneliness cloud me,
Now, I’ll flow with my Sonnet of Solitude.
Much like the heart of a passionate lover;
But now the tune sounds too frail,
As I’d begun to figure out his devilish desire.
The key-notes then put my sentiments to test,
I wondered why they doin’ this to me,
But I ain’t givin’ up on my lyrics and tunes,
As I prepared myself that the worse was yet for me to see.
With days multiplying and words the same,
I heard my song rehearse without end;
For he was my inspiration in my every line
My sonnet, my audience, my friend.
I wrote each stanza in his sight
And I imagined him in every word;
For if I were on my own to sing n write,
I doubt I’d ever step into this world.
Until the day I absorbed his absence
And words just went astray;
It was a first for my song
To go pale, and rhythmless gray.
For months my song was put to rest
And my mind & heart to debate;
I got some answers, harsh and new,
And some that I still await.
But on a rainy afternoon, I saw the clouds collide,
And I realized the sky doesn't for long stay blued;
Just why I won’t let my loneliness cloud me,
Now, I’ll flow with my Sonnet of Solitude.
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
OFFSET THE EVIL
Like mauling, stabbing, bludgeoning and dismembering? Then you'll want to play Condemned 2. But remember to keep your soul in check by “offsetting the evil” at http://offsettheevil.com
Monday, 4 August 2008
Another website
From a telephone to a wall hanging; a pencil stand to a calendar. Though quite a basic layout, this website has icons for each link. Log on to http://www.lamenteditetsuya.com/ and see for yourself.
Sunday, 3 August 2008
HELLO, MOTO.
Visit http://direct.motorola.com/hellomoto/razr2/razr2makingof/ and experience the all-new Razr2 Phone.
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