<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968</id><updated>2011-12-18T23:30:58.152-08:00</updated><category term='random thoughts'/><category term='parenting'/><category term='History'/><category term='By the Water Cooler'/><category term='Contest'/><category term='Mom'/><category term='Behavioural science'/><category term='Family'/><category term='Learnings'/><title type='text'>Talking Post</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-2654445794626969619</id><published>2011-06-13T04:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T04:54:55.306-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random thoughts'/><title type='text'>Few things life has taught me.....and I am still an eager student</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;1. Don't judge people. Period.&lt;br /&gt;2.If you have already judged them anyways, they will prove you right. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;3.It's not your degree or your resume that often lands you at a higher post in your job, its your tongue, and a little bit of your work&lt;br /&gt;4.Man is a funny animal, always wanting what is not - when I have a job I wish I hadn't and when I don't, I wish I had&lt;br /&gt;5.Never tell your baby what you don't want her telling you&lt;br /&gt;6.Reminding someone something he claims to always forget, does not help - AT ALL&lt;br /&gt;7.Unlikely that you can change the world, be the change you  want to see in others. That MAY help&lt;br /&gt;8.Just because you are a stay at home mom and spend all your waking hours worrying about your little one, does not make you the best mom, and nor does that ensure that your offspring is going to appreciate you for life&lt;br /&gt;9.If you appreciate something about someone, let them know about it.&lt;br /&gt;10.Spend sometime each day noticing little things around you, which you seem to be taking for granted&lt;br /&gt;11.It is never easy to forgive and forget. At least pretend!&lt;br /&gt;12.Be nice to all,  you never know who is gonna be your neighbor up, or may be down under&lt;br /&gt;13.After 60, unlikely that people will change. They never did when they were 30!&lt;br /&gt;14.Read a lot. This time shall not come again. Might as well gather all the gyan you can when you find the time and haven't still developed Alzheimers'&lt;br /&gt;15.Love is hard to find. Reciprocate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-2654445794626969619?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/2654445794626969619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=2654445794626969619' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/2654445794626969619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/2654445794626969619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2011/06/few-things-life-has-taught-meand-i-am.html' title='Few things life has taught me.....and I am still an eager student'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-2721708643463340787</id><published>2010-10-14T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T21:15:16.634-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Contest'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='By the Water Cooler'/><title type='text'>By The Water Cooler</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://orangeicecandy.blogspot.com/2010/10/by-water-cooler-contest.html"&gt;This one is for Radio Parul, and her book 'By the Water Cooler' ....read on&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 1 &lt;/span&gt;- transfered to the Bangalore office (after  working for 6 months as a trainee). Like the spring chicken, I am one of the  first few to turn up. My boss who is all of 27 and and whose first trainee I am,  has arranged for some office girl to get me some flowers. That, for you, is a  welcome note. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;My boss, walks in almost an hour later,  and the rest, even later than that. *Young*  I think. We exchange niceties.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Lesson 1- don't be so eager to work on the first day that you  exhaust your energies by turning up this early....you never know how long you have to hang on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Day 2- &lt;/span&gt;as promised he takes me on his bike to the  closest bank to open an account. I would require a place to drop that cheque  which will feed me (yes that's all it would do).&lt;br /&gt;It's a Splendour and so anyone sitting  pillion, in a synthetic outfit (and a rookie at bike pillion)  is likely to end  up in the driver's seat rather than ones own.&lt;br /&gt;Lesson 2 - never wear synthetic if  you are riding Pillion!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 3 -&lt;/span&gt; happens to be a Saturday- a holiday, nonetheless  we are all there.....in comfortable casuals, enthu cutlests all.  I explain my  interpretation of a report, aloud, as if I have been dying to hear my own voice.  'Keep that low' says my boss, 'I have a  bad hangover and your voice is making my skull rattle in my head...'&lt;br /&gt;Lesson 3 - speak in hushed tones if your boss has a  hangover&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It is evening after a lazy paced day at work. The office  is a house (like a typical one in Bangalore), and my boss is sitting by a window  gazing out. I ask him, what are you looking at ? He says, 'the moon'....the  vibrant colours....'Moon and vibrant colours, I add'....'hmm....he says, gazing  on'. I don't see them, I mutter.  You will if you do 'pot', comes the reply.&lt;br /&gt;Lesson  4 - do grass to see vibrant colours in the moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 days down, and I have learnt quite a bit at work, don't you think?! I have always been a quick learner ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-2721708643463340787?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/2721708643463340787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=2721708643463340787' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/2721708643463340787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/2721708643463340787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2010/10/by-water-cooler.html' title='By The Water Cooler'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-8736823318951575153</id><published>2009-04-16T22:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T23:05:01.650-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Learnings'/><title type='text'>I am so... internetish</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_95TgS24Jc-4/SegcBM--lXI/AAAAAAAAA-o/DCOfMg_662s/s1600-h/0008-0709-2023-2518.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 95px; height: 100px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_95TgS24Jc-4/SegcBM--lXI/AAAAAAAAA-o/DCOfMg_662s/s320/0008-0709-2023-2518.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325537366356432242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div face="trebuchet ms" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Geetha/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;If you are wondering what that means, let me explain...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If ever you google anything on earth (or outside of it), you will get adequate evidence to support or overrule any hypothesis that you harbor. I was running a search on f"lourides and toddlers"....I got adequate evidence to believe it is "good" and "bad" for toddlers. End result - I am well informed but as confused as earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working out of home, makes one dependent on the internet a lot, and google then becomes what you would term in the real world- a best friend! With google as best friend, what has now happened to me is what the old sanskrit philosophy would term 'sangadosha' (literally translated &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;company effect&lt;/span&gt;). What it primarily means is that one begins to behave like ones companion/ friend owing to the close interactions/ proximity one keeps  to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you were to tell me how good something is, I can provide adequate information why I believe otherwise. You would be none the wiser after which. At the same time if you come up with a theory about how something is bad. I could very well prove otherwise. No! I never participated in debates while back at school......but the internet has done this to me!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me know if you have ever had a similar situation :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Solong........happy googling!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-8736823318951575153?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/8736823318951575153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=8736823318951575153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/8736823318951575153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/8736823318951575153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-am-so-internetish.html' title='I am so... internetish'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_95TgS24Jc-4/SegcBM--lXI/AAAAAAAAA-o/DCOfMg_662s/s72-c/0008-0709-2023-2518.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-2576362971255959411</id><published>2009-03-04T21:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T21:58:09.132-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>I never cease to amaze me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Yesterday was my bday. Well no cookies for guessing my age....because it hardly matters. After a while one stops counting. At last count I was umm..urr...25 I think :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spoke from 7.30 am in the morning, with a 10 min break for breakfast, until 2.00 pm and then continued from 4.00 pm until my lil one asked to be accompanied to the park. I caught up with a conversation or two in the park as well. Over 7 hrs of telephonic conversation about everything under the sun, with all who called to wish me. I must admit I did not expect to be so busy receiving calls, since I have been pretty laid back on the wishing circuit this year, being a self proclaimed BUSY mom...with an even busier baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you ever happen to see me, you will never guess my true age. I am blessed to look young.  Although there are times I wish I looked a little older (and may be fatter) so I could throw my weight around, it is never gonna be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take my lil one to the park each evening. Lil T loves to play by herself...in the sand pit, on the slides, on the swing, in the stone patch and the meadows. There are curious onlookers who want to know why she does not play with the other kids. Well, the answer my friends is that she likes it that way, and I would rather have her like what she is doing...than force something down her throat. Yes, I do give her an opportunity   to interact with other children, but I would think she knows best what she wants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have noticed, moms hang around in groups - not exactly me...but most of them. I visit the "congregation of moms" that meets daily at the park. .....serves more like a support group. ....If you lend your ear, this is what you will definitely hear  "mine has stopped eating"..."mine did that awhile back but seems to be better now"....."mine no longer snatches  a nap during the morning hours"....."nor does mine, baby"...."oh well! that's such a reassurance........."mine has been acting weird"....."when do they not?!".....I would be worried if they did not act weird. They somehow seem to be programmed that way. Weird...weirder....weirdest....."mine sleeps in the cot"..."oh so does mine"...."what the hell...they are not going to sleep with you for life, so giving a lil  bit of comfort  to your lil one in the initial years won't do you any harm"....How many rules are they supposed to abide by......don't do this....and definitely not this....this is a strict no no.....not that one!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have been reading that you ought to be a yes parent!!!! Sure ...can I stuff the toothbrush in the loo...yes, why not. Can I swallow a kidney bean...definitely. Can I stand up and jump from my pram...."whoever stopped you"........saying yes is def easier than saying no....just that I dread the repercussions. I am waiting to meet the YES parent. How charming!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life post Nov 2007, has been different. Well, let's just say "different". I serve as a car seat, an animal and bird cry impersonator, while I brush my teeth, I strategically place my foot on the loo cover so that no unsuspecting lil toddler dares to open it and stash was some toys, bowls, spoons, even soap at times into it. I leap like a frog, sniff like a mouse....oh no! I am not crazy...I am just a mom!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-2576362971255959411?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/2576362971255959411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=2576362971255959411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/2576362971255959411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/2576362971255959411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-never-cease-to-amaze-me.html' title='I never cease to amaze me'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-46273749593451024</id><published>2008-07-17T01:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T01:40:34.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Erma Bombeck</title><content type='html'>&lt;style&gt;&lt;/style&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="body"&gt;When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would  hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used  everything you gave me".&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-46273749593451024?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/46273749593451024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=46273749593451024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/46273749593451024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/46273749593451024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2008/07/erma-bombeck.html' title='Erma Bombeck'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-5862082116959080913</id><published>2008-06-14T00:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T00:49:43.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fringe benefits of Failure and the importance of imagination</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have been hearing about Rowling's address to the Harvard university graduates. It was only by accident that I chanced upon it &lt;a href="http://thebratthebeanandbedlam.wordpress.com/2008/06/13/jk-rowling-and-her-speech-at-harvard/"&gt;here.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I simply enjoyed reading it and couldn't stop. The end did not disappoint me either. I am sure you will enjoy reading it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I read the papers a few days back when Jeffrey Archer was in India, I remember the bit where he said 'Rowling made it after 14 attempts, but very few know that I (Jeffrey Archer) had to visit close to 17 publishers before my first best seller'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end, all I need to say is 'perserverence pays' &lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-5862082116959080913?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/5862082116959080913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=5862082116959080913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/5862082116959080913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/5862082116959080913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2008/06/fringe-benefits-of-failure-and.html' title='Fringe benefits of Failure and the importance of imagination'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-7052016562215389305</id><published>2008-04-20T22:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T23:27:14.469-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>Oh I miss the nanny...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Right now all I am thinking is ....was I in my right mind to make a bold decision of a holiday with Li'l T sans the nanny. Gawd! what was I thinking??!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gawd!  Gawd! Gawd! never thought I will miss baby's nanny so much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a youngster I distinctly remember a write-up I had written. It was titled "The Ps in my life" - one of my first and foremost was Pamam - the ever endearing uncle. The second P was the Hobbes I have mentioned in my profile description and the third was my difficult boss and finally now it is the baby's nanny. The P's in my life have always made a difference - whether it be xtremely positive or xtremely negative....but they could never be ignored.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;This holiday has only taught me how indispensible THE nanny is!...the most important P in my life these days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slice of my life these days (now that I am on a holiday!!!!)&lt;br /&gt;-Get woken up by a wailing hungry baby&lt;br /&gt;-feed her&lt;br /&gt;-change her&lt;br /&gt;-motivate her to crap so I can then lie low during the day (I feel more relieved when Li'l T has clean bowels, than when I do....I guess that's what motherhood is all about)&lt;br /&gt;-make sensible conversation with her (as sensible and meaningful as it can get with a 5 month old)&lt;br /&gt;-watch over her while she busily flip flops all over the bed (she does not like the floor)...simply to ensure she does not flip flop off it.&lt;br /&gt;-give her a rejuvenating oil massage followed by a bath routine (which she simply looks forward to)&lt;br /&gt;-bathe her&lt;br /&gt;-dress her&lt;br /&gt;-feed her&lt;br /&gt;-put her to bed&lt;br /&gt;-console her every time she wails&lt;br /&gt;-change her&lt;br /&gt;-feed her&lt;br /&gt;-change her&lt;br /&gt;-feed her&lt;br /&gt;-change her&lt;br /&gt;-omygosh did I forget taking her around to all anxious relatives homes&lt;br /&gt;-change her&lt;br /&gt;-feed her&lt;br /&gt;-remind myself that this is all my doing&lt;br /&gt;-change her&lt;br /&gt;-feed her&lt;br /&gt;-and finally at the end of day crash after putting her to bed.&lt;br /&gt;.........I am looking forward to getting back home. I have promised myself a good holiday after I dutifully handover li'l T to THE nanny. That is when my holiday actually begins .....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-7052016562215389305?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/7052016562215389305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=7052016562215389305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/7052016562215389305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/7052016562215389305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2008/04/holiday-that-never-was.html' title='Oh I miss the nanny...'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-7803954447908629189</id><published>2008-02-24T20:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T20:30:45.561-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Discussions...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Earlier the discussions (read arguments) between me and P were primarily centred around household tasks. One such conversation ....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G: P can you please keep things back in place once you are done with them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P(reading the papers) : hmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G: Please do it after you are through with whatever it is you are doing now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P(still reading the papers)....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G: I hope you heard me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P(still reading..) : hmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;An hour later, are still lying all around the place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G:P for God'ssake pleaaase keep that back in place. It is quite tiresome for someone to be constantly tidying after you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P(now at the lappie) : hmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G(frustrated completely), tidies up : I dont understand why it is such a difficult task to simply put in place something after it has been used and is no longer needed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P:well, I may need it anytime later - today, tomorrow or the day after&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G: then you can take it out again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P:it is so silly to keep taking it out and putting it back in place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G:why do you take a bath daily, anyway you will get dirty again!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P(continues to work nonchalantly at the lappie)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now with a baby at home, the discussions continue but this time round the conversations take a different turn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G: P, I am putting Li'l T in the pram while I complete my chores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P: ok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G: are you going to be exercising today?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P: hmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G:is that a "yes" ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P (no response)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G:P can you hear me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P:hmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G:so, will you be exercising today, if yes then Li'l T can be busy watching you while you exercise (Li'l T, now 3 months old, finds it entertaining to watch P exercise. Frankly I do too!!!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P: ok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G(places Li'l T in her pram next to P) : P just keep winding her mobile once in a while. That will keep her busy when she can't see you while you are doing your push-ups&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P: k&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;After a while Li'l T is irritable, she can't see P who is busy doing push-ups since she is higher up in the pram in an almost horizontal position.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G:P, mobile?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;For those who don't know much about T's mobile. She has two mobiles attached to the pram. One of them is a little bunny whose eyes roll ; ears and hands move up and down while the music rolls on. Unfortunately one of the internal mechanisms has gone bad and so the sound is a little warped&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The second one has sweet music ...but no movement. So although it is soothing to our ears, it does not hold much interest to Li'l T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P(as expected, winds the latter....sweet music with no movements)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Li'l T continues to scream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G:can you please wind the bunny please&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P: that has gone bad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G:no not really. It is a little out of tune but T likes the movements&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P:I don't think so...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G:will you please quit the *discussion* and just wind the Bunny up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P:k if you insist. But I still prefer the former&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;G(wonder whom the mobile is supposed to entertain - us or Li'l T????!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-7803954447908629189?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/7803954447908629189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=7803954447908629189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/7803954447908629189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/7803954447908629189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2008/02/discussions.html' title='Discussions...'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-4816186149145824941</id><published>2007-10-10T22:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T23:03:12.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Broken marriages</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Who or what are responsible for these? I am no authority on this subject but I often wonder given the stream of broken marriages that I have been hearing of off late. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Why would anyone want to break a bond as strong as marriage, specially when they thought so much before getting into it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A few thoughts that cross my mind :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;1.Low tolerance limits and impatience&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;2.Sheer unwillingness to adjust beyond a point&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;3.Financial independence on both sides&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;4.Societal acceptance of singledom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;5.Trend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;6.High expectations vs reality&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;7.Disparate interests with changing times&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;8.Infidelity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I was talking to a friend who mentioned that her ma-in-law who has raised ~9 children, mentioned to her the other day, that actually there is only one reason why a marriage fails and that is because of dissatisfaction on the sexual front! Hmmm...I said, after having mothered ~9 children, I am sure she knows best ;)))...that's how she hung on to that husband for eternity..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;But coming back to what I was discussing the reasons given for marital problems of late :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;1.In one case infidelity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;2.In the other 2 cases I was told the woman is insecure......insecure about what? One of the cases actually went so far as to label her "psychologically instable".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;3.In the third they said the woman had not been truthful and tucked away certain facts about herself which were discovered only post marriage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;In the first case it was the wife's perspective that I had received and in the other 2 cases it was (quite obvious I am sure), the man's side story. So in neither of the cases was I witness to both sides of the story and so it is really hard to tell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;While the first marriage despite all it's drawbacks continues to "function" ...simply because of the kids. While in the other two, the parties are doing the rounds of the courtroom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-4816186149145824941?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/4816186149145824941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=4816186149145824941' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/4816186149145824941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/4816186149145824941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2007/10/broken-marriages.html' title='Broken marriages'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-7731407762824208672</id><published>2007-08-26T22:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:41:17.129-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Don't tho...don't tho...don't tho</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_95TgS24Jc-4/RtJsEtLkcTI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Jzy4f2TA1do/s1600-h/Calvin+dance2.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_95TgS24Jc-4/RtJsEtLkcTI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Jzy4f2TA1do/s320/Calvin+dance2.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103260155867590962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;This one is about my little nephew Dhruv. He is now 16 months old and practising his newly learnt vocabulary. It's so interesting to watch him pronounce and mispronounce words. He gurgles and gabs a lot but most of it, if not all, is quite difficult to comprehend to the normal human cerebrum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;He almost knows which alphabet stands for which word...viz D for bow wow &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;(dog...for you and me)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;, C for meow &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;(cat...for you and me)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;, D for dum dum (drum for you and me), P for hmm hmm (pigeon...for you and me), S for ...is followed by his little hands repeating the twinkling action of the stars....and so on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I met with him on Saturday. The minute he saw me he remembered 'Bat'. He meant his newly acquired 'Hockey stick' which was gifted to him by my aunt. He goes completely berserk with it. The stick is almost as high(if not higher) than him and he wiggles it and moves it at random much like an adult man who has lost his sanity :). So I thought I better ignore that offer for a game. The last thing I wanted was to be bruised because of his sheer excitement at moving the hockey stick.....yelling "Chak de...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;He's quite a monkey, imitating almost every action that he sees around. He walks around the house with the hockey stick much like my granny uses her walking stick. He then picks his toy phone and goes rushing to the window (lest the signal break)...and talks in hushed tones like his mom usually does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;My aunt has recently gifted him a chalk and board so he can practise his alphabets :)))) He usually scribbles in his note pad with a pencil. After the chalk and board were gifted to him, there was some confusion - he tried writing on the board with his pencil and with the chalk in his little notebook. Until he was corrected and figured that these adults are a useless bunch of people who have wierd set of rules!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have told my mom that if he is taught things at such a rapid pace then it will be only another 5 yrs before he takes up a corporate job and ends up retiring the same time as my sis (his mom). Infact his parents have bigger plans for him. His dad has decided to put him onto a job in the next few years so he can help them pay up the EMI. Ingenious eh?! That's why we make kids now :)...specially with the floating rates escalating...more the merrier...faster repayment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now coming back to the heading of my post "Don't tho...".Well that in Dhruv's words means "don't throw". It took me all day to figure out what he was saying; when later in the evening my sis clarified. She said "He has a bad habit of throwing everything around (my interpretation - he was given a ball at very young age and told 'throw', and he now thinks he can "throw" anything and everything" He throws books, pencils, his toys....anything which he thinks he can hold and spin and hurl. It's now a regular phenomenon to hear "Dhruv don't throw" around home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;What the little one has not yet picked up is that he is not supposed to throw things around instead what he has picked up is that "if you throw something, then it needs to be accompanied by an exclamation 'Don't throw". So now what you find is little Dhruv hurling things around the house and exclaming "Don't tho" :))))...don't tho...don't tho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So much for Generation Next!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-7731407762824208672?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/7731407762824208672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=7731407762824208672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/7731407762824208672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/7731407762824208672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2007/08/dont-thodont-thodont-tho.html' title='Don&apos;t tho...don&apos;t tho...don&apos;t tho'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_95TgS24Jc-4/RtJsEtLkcTI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Jzy4f2TA1do/s72-c/Calvin+dance2.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-303015913043450379</id><published>2007-08-13T21:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T22:08:16.839-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>The "sobre" kid that I was</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;For people who know me today, may be it would be a little difficult to visualise the kid that I was!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These were a few words that never existed in my dictionary back then - silence, discipline, responsibility, obedience....and mind you! these were just a few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I was born in Mangalore and raised for a whole year in Mumbai by my parents. Towards my first birthday, my dad contracted chicken pox. My maternal granma then stepped in and offered to take me to Mangalore so that I don't contract the infection. Funnily my parents were game! (may be they just had enough of me in a year) So there I was a piddly one year old (starry eyed or what!) all set for  Mangalore;  to live with my maternal grandparents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, like most small towners, they too owned a huge villa, with yards in the front and the back, huge plush garden lined with several (close to 100's) coconut palms, mango and jackfruit trees, bougainvillae....to say the least a botanical delight. There also was a cowshed, driveway, outhouse....and the works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;My grandparents lived in this huge villa with my 3 uncles - each equally eager to have a piddly 1 yr old around to shower affection on (read : pamper). I spent a year of my life amongst them, away from folks and interestingly I don't think I ever missed my folks, since I don't remember my uncles or my grand parents complaining that they had a tough time managing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since then I always was more attached to my granma and uncles (especially one of them) than I was to my own folks. But well, fun times don't last forever, and by the time I was 2 and a half I was brought back to Mumbai by my parents who had now decided that they missed me :)....(back then whoever took a two and half year old's opinion anyways!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was three I was enrolled into Kindergarden  since I was already too smart for nursery ;)  My school was called Little Angel's High School (not that it enrolled only angels.....it was more those aspiring to be angels...am not sure it helped that much)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My memories of KG go back to a teacher who was called "Zilla" (at that point I didn't realize it was short for Godzilla!!!....sorry just kidding) She had enough of me from day one. She complained that I was a chatter box and almost everyday changed my seat. She tried seating me besides the quietest and most silent of students, to only realise that I was a good conversationalist even if it was a monologue :)))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between classes 1 to 7, I made several good friends, only to have them relocate, shift schools etc...within a short span of time...leaving me to look for more like-minded people. The teachers declared that I was intelligent and had it in me....but extremely careless, unbothered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until Class 7, I was pretty much a wild child. I hated getting up in the mornings to rush to school - my perpetual question to my mom "why do I need to go to school" (what I meant was - am I not smart enough?!!!!...schools are for those who don't already know....and I DO!) and she thought I was just plain lazy. I did not believe that hours after school had to be spent uselessly doing homework, revising or in preparation for exams. Infact it was only after the exam timetable came in and the exams were lined up for the next day, that most of my studies began (that too, since mom got onto my case and threatened dire consequences if I did not clear my tests).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a little girl, I participated in all contests, dances, skits, story telling competitions, christmas singing and the works (anything to keep away from those boring classes!). Infact when back home, I gathered kids round about my age from our block and organized functions - dances, dramas etc... We actually created little tickets so we could go invite the 'poor unsuspecting' inhabitants of our block to come and be audience....and yes they relented(he he) We used the little ones for doing the running around - more like spot boys and stuff. Most of these programs were organized by me a little prior to my exams. And each time I used to get a big piece of mind from mom who finally wrote me off as - someone who was only fit to open a naatak company (I would choose to call it a production house in today's lingo). Although I was not much of a sports enthusiast at school, we used to cycle around, play cricket and whole lot of outdoor sports in our block....so these were some of my other activities outside of school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also enrolled in dance classes while still in class 6 and danced so much in 2 months, that my dad got worried that I would use that as an excuse for not studying, and called it off. Believe me those 2 months were fun - I danced all the time - in my class, at home, on the stairs, in the playground......as if no one's watching and there was no tomorrow. I guess that's what actually had my dad worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come class 7 and my mom announced that I would be henceforth solely responsible for what I would become in the future. She had decided to wash her hands off me. She said "you can make or break your future, I am no longer party to this irresponsible behaviour". Now that was the turning point in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Overnight these words which I had hardly bothered with got added to my dictionary &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;discipline, responsibility, obedience&lt;/span&gt;....and I buried my fond carefree childhood..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dramatic eh?! that's what happens to most of us sooner or later. What's new?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since then, I have been different. Although Pari always tells me that he often sees a well hidden wild streak in me.......I would say am waiting for that day when it comes out of hiding :))))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-303015913043450379?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/303015913043450379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=303015913043450379' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/303015913043450379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/303015913043450379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2007/08/sobre-kid-that-i-was.html' title='The &quot;sobre&quot; kid that I was'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-818873484760289325</id><published>2007-07-20T00:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-20T00:18:55.760-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>The Newspaper in the loo</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt;Must sound like a shady title to a post…….my newspaper in the loo ? what on earth is it doing there.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt;It is a norm each day that the newspaper at home begins its’ life in the loo; like each of the family members. It spends close to 45 precious minutes there. I find it most annoying that each day I read the paper which has spent a tenth of it’s life in the LOO?!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt;Despite my ill feelings, I am left with little choice but to subscribe to MY OWN copy of paper, which is pure! (pure indeed) Now since I am a typical penurious housewife who doesn’t believe in spending too much money on sheets of paper, I settle for this “precious paper”.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt;One fine day when I was looking for some magazine, after having looked all around the house for it…….where do you think I found it. In the Loo!!! I was simply aghast, papers I could understand &lt;i&gt;(actually I cant) &lt;/i&gt;but what on earth are magazines doing there” When confronted Pari promptly said “Listen! I have been having some gastric discomfort ; owing to which I have been spending longer hours than usual in the loo, and so taking reading material each time with me.”. Hmmmm &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt;I was so pissed that I actually yelled “Why don’t we then start a library out there – you could choose between papers, business weekly, quarterly mags, monthly magazines, HBR (which too I have found in the loo at some point in time!), and what do you think was the reply I got in turn “Hey that’s a great idea, we could actually have a book rack there”.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I knew I would hit the ceiling any moment, so quietly receded.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt;I know God has made people of different clay, but I dint quite anticipate that “different clay” was “&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="text-transform: uppercase;"&gt;this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;different”!!! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-818873484760289325?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/818873484760289325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=818873484760289325' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/818873484760289325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/818873484760289325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2007/07/newspaper-in-loo.html' title='The Newspaper in the loo'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-4622047014854032268</id><published>2007-06-20T01:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T00:08:35.718-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>My family = Idiosyncratic</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Yes, I am talking about my family - my idiosyncratic family ; the Kamaths and I am not the only person who thinks that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me illustrate with an example -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Episode 1 &lt;/span&gt;- VK, my cousin, all of 24 yrs (may be younger) when he visited us in Mumbai a few years back, decided to stop over at my folk's place. He was in Mumbai for his summer training. The first night mom offered him a quilt since the weather was fairly comfortable and she thought he could do with one. The next morning while he was at his ablutions mom decided to be  helpful and started doing up his bed. She changed the bed sheet and put a bed spread over it, and was about to fold the quilt into a neat fold (very typical of the Kamath's - each night they remove the bed spread and fold it neatly and replace it with a bedsheet and the next morning they replace that with the bed spread....and no they never run out of patience doing so). Now while she was at it, VK came running into the room and said "stop it...stop it". My mom was astounded....."why on earth?!" she exclaimed. "Did you notice which end of the quilt was touching my feet and which my face" he remarked. My mom carefully thought back and said "I think it was this one". Immediately VK snatched the quilt from her and religiously tied a knot with the tassles that were there at one end of the quilt. "Now what was that about?" my mom enquired. And VK said "what if I had to use the other end of the quilt towards my face today!!!" Blasphemous indeed!!! :)&lt;br /&gt;My mom was too puzzled to utter a word. I was at the far corner listening to all that transpired and couldn't help snicker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Episode 2 &lt;/span&gt;- the carpenter was home the other day to fix a sheet of acrylic onto the door. After he was done with it he asked "Madam pls chk...theek hai nah?". I peeped in to check and only to realise that the 3 nails which were holding the sheet were not in a single straight line. I asked him why and he smugly mentioned "jahan hole gira wahan keel thoki". I was quite miffed with that response. Did he not know that if 3 nails are used on one side of a sheet to hold it up, they need to be in a straight line??? I complained to hubby who in turn inspected the sheet and said "I dont see anything SO wrong with it". Well then, I am a perfectionist and like it that way....you can choose to call it "khujli...." like he chooses to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Episode 3 &lt;/span&gt;- my grand uncle is a noted journalist and while we were at his place one fine day, he brought it to our notice that we were indeed a funny family. He quoted an incident  - he said we like things to be perfect in our own way. Let's say this knife was placed at a 45 deg angle on this table, if a Kamath passes by (s)he will stop by, take a minute and place it at 90 deg angle. Why? we like it that way. Why should anything look out of place?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a gist we Kamaths are .........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Punctual&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Disciplined&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Perfectionists&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Idiosyncratic&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Simply adorable in our own funny way...............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-4622047014854032268?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/4622047014854032268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=4622047014854032268' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/4622047014854032268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/4622047014854032268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2007/06/kamath-family-idiosyncratic.html' title='My family = Idiosyncratic'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-2768604513897263748</id><published>2007-04-03T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T23:26:40.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I need a good laugh...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;In this busy world of bursting economies, retail expansion, rampant consumerism, busy schedules, a yearning to earn more and more and have more; have we forgotten to stop by to have a good laugh? Can't say about others, but the other day whilst I watched "Little Miss Sunshine",  I was bursting at my seams, laughing to my hearts content and I wondered, "when did I laugh like this last?!" One is so engrossed in the day to day running around that one sometimes simply forgets to stop by to have a good laugh and get those endorphins running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I call this the "want more" economy, and in hindu mythology this would be referred to as the "want more yug". People just don't seem content with what they have and how much they have. I look around in my neighbourhood...somebody with midsized car works hard until he has one of the larger sedans,  a person with a comfortable 3 bedroom apartment, works extra hard to invest in yet another apartment (it's always good to own multiple apartments, you know!), the young, who have children going to schools which have nurtured talent and skill, are looking for opportunities to place their kids in "talked about" schools. Why? don't the regular older schools teach anymore or provide adequate knowledge?!!! Will somebody please get up and tell them there is no end to "pursuing happiness"....."just find it!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are there so few of us who say "well, I've had enough, now let me see what I can give back".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was chatting up with a friend lately who has set the record of changing jobs ever 9 months. In short, her organisation is guaranteed to have a miscarriage everytime she joins.....they will definitely lose her sometime in the following 9 months. Are people getting impatient, over-ambitious, or is this simply a state of being opportunistic and not letting a good opportunity pass you by. Or alternately are organizations not treating employees well enough for them to stay on. Beats me! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;My quest for a euphoric organization seems to always be in the present continuous tense. Do they really exist?! After spending a good part of my work life in trying to figure that out, I struck happiness...I discovered that I love to work so long as I am not part of any set up. So, lo! I now work as an independent consultant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that so long as you are happy doing something, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;just do it&lt;/span&gt;. Does not matter what others think of it. And yes, I can't remember the last time I did something because someone else did so!!! I like to be original :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And coming back to "I need a good laugh...." I meant that. I just realised how good it feels after one :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-2768604513897263748?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/2768604513897263748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=2768604513897263748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/2768604513897263748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/2768604513897263748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-need-good-laugh.html' title='I need a good laugh...'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-8581785550014330127</id><published>2006-12-20T23:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T10:57:35.479-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='History'/><title type='text'>Armenian Genocide</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jewish concentration&lt;/span&gt; camps are well heard of, but not the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Armenian Genocide&lt;/span&gt;. It saw the massacre of 1.5 million Armenians! Armenians who ? Armenia is a country, the inhabitants of the place are called Armenians and no they don't speak Arabic but Armenian.&lt;br /&gt;The Genocide took place at the hands of the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ottoman Turks &lt;/span&gt;around the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;First World War&lt;/span&gt;. The sorry part is that even today the Turks dont acknowledge it.&lt;br /&gt;Is it because they feel the world will no longer consider them civilised if they were to own up to such a merciless massacre?&lt;br /&gt;The Turkish author &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Orhan Pamuk&lt;/span&gt; (novelist; recent publications of whose are Istanbul, The Snow, My name is Red. He has been accorded the Nobel laureate for his works) was taken to court for "insulting Turkishness" when he stated in his writings that the Turks had killed 1 million Armenians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-8581785550014330127?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/8581785550014330127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=8581785550014330127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/8581785550014330127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/8581785550014330127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2006/12/armenian-genocide.html' title='Armenian Genocide'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-8552817122730809274</id><published>2006-11-24T10:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T23:32:55.435-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Learnings'/><title type='text'>Moving on</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;There comes a moment in life when things don't quite go the way you want them to. What do you do then ?  Just move on.....I learnt this from my little nephew. He is only 7 months old and still trying to stand up on his own feet independently. With a little support from around him, he manages to stand up for awhile. The other day I caught him trying to reach for a toy which was at far end of the couch. He merely managed to stand on his own two feet, leave alone access something at the far end, across the couch! He tried for awhile. Eventually he looked around and noticed that there were many more toys around him somewhere within his reach, so he quietly moved on..... No point dwelling on something well beyond your reach :)&lt;br /&gt;So this was a lesson well learnt!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-8552817122730809274?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/8552817122730809274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=8552817122730809274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/8552817122730809274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/8552817122730809274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2006/11/moving-on.html' title='Moving on'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685606549818989968.post-5305774006582496593</id><published>2006-11-19T23:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T23:32:32.445-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Behavioural science'/><title type='text'>Cocooning</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;This is a new phenomenon spotted by psychologists. The young, upwardly mobile, busybees prefer to spend time at their homes "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;cocooned&lt;/span&gt;" in their own stratosphere, oblivious to the going-ons around them. They do this on holidays and when they get those spare days between the more hectic working ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Not that they are introverts or depressed, they would simply like to be in the confines of their own homes which they now own, have painstakingly designed, with keen detail to the nooks and corners. They have all it takes to recreate a RnR (relax and recuperate) environment - a home theatre, all possible communication devices - from the Blackberry to the Viyo, food and drink just a phone call away, what with all the home delivery services.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The new term coined is "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;inperience&lt;/span&gt;" . While "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;experience&lt;/span&gt;" is when one is sensitive to the external factors and surrounding environment, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;inperience &lt;/span&gt;is when one feels and is sensitive to ones &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;internal world....the cocoon&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I would think this cocooning effect works well once in a while, specially when one just desires some space and time;  but is it not tough to live in total isolation and seclusion. Does it not make it difficult to then get back to the real world ? I wonder.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685606549818989968-5305774006582496593?l=talkingpost.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/feeds/5305774006582496593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685606549818989968&amp;postID=5305774006582496593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/5305774006582496593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685606549818989968/posts/default/5305774006582496593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talkingpost.blogspot.com/2006/11/cocooning.html' title='Cocooning'/><author><name>GP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10466947433152006742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='15' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7568/571973455788450/1600/888693/sunrise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
