<?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-17815799</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:54:32.714-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Instincts Inside</title><subtitle type='html'>My online scribble pad to pen down(rather key in!) my instantaneous instincts!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>125</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-3601073596573104597</id><published>2008-02-19T05:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T05:18:33.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;And...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..then, God created Eve :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Naveen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-3601073596573104597?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/3601073596573104597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=3601073596573104597' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/3601073596573104597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/3601073596573104597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2008/02/and.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-5554481972779162175</id><published>2007-02-20T14:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-20T14:05:04.017-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;One off my list..yay!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have become a proud owner (&lt;em&gt;It’s ok if you think that I have become one of the stupid people hooked up to video games!&lt;/em&gt;) of an Xbox 360 premium system. Yes, I bought a brand new one yesterday. Though, it is expensive, I guess, it’s ok to indulge myself in simple pleasures like this once in a while (well, a lot of times actually!!). My first game is PGR 3 (Project Gotham Racing 3). All of you who were communicating with me through gtalk, YM and Orkut, will now have to catch me up on Xbox live under the name ‘&lt;strong&gt;Wild Zephyr&lt;/strong&gt;’. Hoping to race with you all :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;~Naveen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-5554481972779162175?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/5554481972779162175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=5554481972779162175' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/5554481972779162175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/5554481972779162175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2007/02/one-off-my-list.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-3630954039155555927</id><published>2007-02-15T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T20:15:11.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Bindu Re Bindu&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No other song/video has been on my playlist as long as this one has. Though this is a remix of an old Kishore Kumar's (Padosan) song, it is extremely nice. The tempo is well within the enjoyable limit, unlike other remixes which have too much of 'noise' and ridiculously high tempo, that you actually start loathing the original song! The animation in this one is very simple and catchy that makes me feel, gosh, would I ever be that guy..:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You can watch this video in youtube, if you want to feel the same way as I do!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rK2ArHNUAXM"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rK2ArHNUAXM&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;~Naveen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-3630954039155555927?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/3630954039155555927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=3630954039155555927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/3630954039155555927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/3630954039155555927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2007/02/bindu-re-bindu-no-other-songvideo-has.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-3286050652756369715</id><published>2007-02-12T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-12T15:10:29.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Hallucination&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We think we have complete control over our lives until the moment when someone comes and talks to us about our future plans. It then strikes to us that we are not actually progressing in the direction of our plans; instead life is taking us tangentially towards something else and we seem to have absolutely no control at all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not new to this and every time this happens, I think of this phrase, ‘&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No one dies a virgin because life f**** everyone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;’ and laugh at myself!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Naveen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-3286050652756369715?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/3286050652756369715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=3286050652756369715' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/3286050652756369715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/3286050652756369715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2007/02/hallucination-we-think-we-have-complete.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-117079471083391256</id><published>2007-02-06T13:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-06T13:45:10.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Orkut – Beware!!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read this article and I’m alarmed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.rediff.com/news/2007/feb/06orkut.htm"&gt;http://www.rediff.com/news/2007/feb/06orkut.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m just wondering if I should be deleting my orkut account and stay away from it or I should be keeping on searching for my name, day in and day out to make sure there is no other account in my name that has my private information!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;~ Naveen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-117079471083391256?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/117079471083391256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=117079471083391256' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/117079471083391256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/117079471083391256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2007/02/orkut-beware-i-read-this-article-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-117044426106932263</id><published>2007-02-02T12:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-02T12:24:21.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Brainless stuff!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;The brain must be made up of at least 2 parts – 2 very different and opposite parts - docs call them cerebrum and cerebellum (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I remember only these 2 names from my biology classes and of course the medulla oblongata!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) – Psychologists call them ego and alter-ego (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Disclaimer:&lt;/strong&gt; The author is in no way responsible if the reader assumes cerebrum to be responsible for ego and cerebellum for alter-ego!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)  - Whatever – In my case, this proves to be very true – One says – ‘&lt;em&gt;Man, what you are doing is so very wrong&lt;/em&gt;’ and the other pitches in – ‘&lt;em&gt;Well, what the hell? It sure does make you feel happy, go for it&lt;/em&gt;’. And now, I’m wondering, if there was another part in between that juxtaposes these 2 thoughts and helps me choose the best one – would I not be glad? Or is there something like this in peoples’ heads that I’m missing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Context of the out-of-context thought:&lt;/strong&gt; I like something that doesn’t belong to me or there is no way it could belong to me..huh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-117044426106932263?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/117044426106932263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=117044426106932263' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/117044426106932263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/117044426106932263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2007/02/brainless-stuffthe-brain-must-be-made.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-116939397057075140</id><published>2007-01-21T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-21T08:41:41.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Pokkiri&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Disclaimer: Spoilers and teasers below. Vijay fans, please STOP here and close the browser window, you might not want your feelings getting hurt!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;If you are here reading this line, it means you've either skipped to read the disclaimer above or you are going to probably agree with whatever I'm about to say below. Lets see!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;All through the movie, I had this burning question, what is it that is different in this movie from others? The answer is a big NOTHING. Yet another masala movie concocted from various other masala movies. If you want to see multiple movies at the cost of one, Pokkiri is your guy!The distributors could use this tag line, 'More movies for the price of one'!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was told that this is Vijay's first movie as a police officer. I was hoping to see a different Vijay but I was disappointed, only in the last 5 minutes he is exposed (he is an undercover agent!) with the police uniform. Throughtout 98% of the movie, he is the same old Vijay, with the same old costumes, same old mannerisms and the same kind but a bit different PUNCH dialogues! I have a suggestions to the producers who produce such movies. Can't you guys, give an old vijay movie to some multimedia company, they could change the color of the costumes, locations, voice overs and the songs..and bang! You get a new movie without even worrying about the schedules and salaries of the artists? Think about this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Then comes the 'Shooting skills' difference. I noticed that none of the villains knew how to shoot a target that is less than a feet away. The head of the villain gang, Prakash Raj, says at the end, pointing towards all his dead gang men, 'these are highly qualified criminals that I've nurtured, where will I get these kind of people again'? Wow, did he ever knew, that the so called 'skilled gun men' never knew how to shoot? Well, I guess, he didn't. The other side of the coin, our hero can shoot a target even if there is a visible 45° deviation between his gun's barrel and the target. Hmm..I guess, his gun was equipped with some kind of thermal signature seeking cartridges..but I would have appreciated the director, if he had told the audience about the hero's sci-fi weapons. After all, we are people who believe whatever is shown in a James Bond movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Of course, then there is the heroine – Asin. Well, I don't have anything against her. Poor babe, she chips in every now and then for a song or for a sentimental scene with a few drops of tears. In a man's show, heroines can't expect anything more than this. But I guess, she has tried to improvise her character by her acting talent..again, I stress the word. TRIED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Vadivelu's comedy is fresh. Though it is not as humorous as his 'Winner', it is ok. But again, the movie is not about acting, comedy, heroine or the villains, its all about Vijay. If you are an ardent Vijay fan, i would not stop between you and the movie but if you are a neutral film buff, think again before stepping in to the theatres! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;~Naveen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-116939397057075140?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/116939397057075140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=116939397057075140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116939397057075140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116939397057075140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2007/01/pokkiri-disclaimer-spoilers-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-116881762805087288</id><published>2007-01-14T16:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T20:34:21.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;House Arrest!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently the temperature outside is -13C. It seems like there are virtually prison bars around in the form of piercing cold winds. Since the day I came back from vacation, I'm confined to my house and it is as if I'm placed under house arrest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People here are busy with ice fishing. They make small tents over the frozen lake, pierce a hole and wait for a fish with their fishing rods. I think they are mad, instead of lazing before the TV with a packet of chips, they are freezing their asses off. Totally insensible! But if you ask them, they would probably call me a loser for not enjoying one of the most interesting winter sports. Who cares?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only noteworthy thing that I did today was to go to the Church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And yes, I came across something that yet again proved the world to be very very small. How does it feel if you come to know that a friend you had thought was from the northern part of the country to be actually from the southern part, and that too just 60 km away from your native? Wow! I was excited and thrilled! Hope that person had the same feeling too!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And with this, the weekend is coming to an end. Back to the drills tomorrow. There are meetings all through the day, GOK how I'm going to handle them!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;~Naveen &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-116881762805087288?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/116881762805087288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=116881762805087288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116881762805087288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116881762805087288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2007/01/house-arrest-currently-temperature.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-116564956905603917</id><published>2006-12-09T00:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-09T00:32:49.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Holiday!!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It has been long since I sat after midnight and posted something. I just came back from this movie 'The Holiday', I kind of liked it and so this post is happening. Of late, I have been watching awful movies like the Return and Casino Royale (some claim this to be the best Bond movie ever!). Deja Vu and Turistas were ok, though they did not live up to my expectations. Today we decided to pick one between 'The Holiday' and 'Apocalypto'. We wanted to take it easy, so settled for the romantic comedy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Though we did not have any expectations from the movie, it did live up to the basic expectations of a normal movie-goer. The story was a normal love story and more of bollywood types. It even had a scene where the hero and the heroine were running around the trees, only there was no song. The performances are what I think is the highlight of the movie. Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz have acted extremely well and I would say they both look cute and adorable on the screen. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm hearing a lot of British english these days (a part of the cast in this movie are British) and I've started liking it :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And one other reason for choosing this movie is that I'm actually going on a holiday to INDIA next week..wow! yeah, after 2 long years and I'm really excited about it and looking forward to meeting friends and family there!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-116564956905603917?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/116564956905603917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=116564956905603917' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116564956905603917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116564956905603917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/12/holiday-it-has-been-long-since-i-sat.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-116414737749167707</id><published>2006-11-21T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T15:16:17.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/791/1727/1600/89425/KofHill.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/791/1727/320/98929/KofHill.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;In love with a cartoon!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tin-Tin, Tom &amp; Jerry and Jungle Book have been my favourite cartoons for aeons, until recently. I have fallen in love, head over heels, with a new cartoon series, "King of the Hill". It is being broadcasted in My29 and Fox. I don't know how many of you might have had a chance to watch this. But believe me, it is fun and thought provoking. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/791/1727/1600/622570/KofHill2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/791/1727/320/116362/KofHill2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It is about the Hills - Hank, Peggy, Bobby and Luanne Platter (Peggy's niece). Hank is a strict but a very good hearted man. The whole story is about various social issues that confront the Hills, how the Hills react to them and Hank's stand on those issues. Though he is strict, he is loving and caring, gives a lot of importance to moral virtues and most important of all, he is simple and modest!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The voice over's and the animation is great. Dale Gribble's (Hank's friend) slap stick comedy is incredible. In all, it is a cartoon meant for wholesome entertainment. It contains everything that we expect from a good entertainer - social messages, comedy and a very good story line..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If you get a chance, don't miss to watch this!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;PS: I dont see many of my blogger buddies blogging regularly these days :(..whats up guys??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-116414737749167707?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/116414737749167707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=116414737749167707' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116414737749167707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116414737749167707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/11/in-love-with-cartoon-tin-tin-tom-jerry.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-116123313554223053</id><published>2006-10-18T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T21:45:35.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;WeIrD FuN!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It has started snowing here and the fun has begun, I’m certainly not referring to the spine chilling weather. The car will skid as if being driven on an ice-skating rink. I hate skiing but I love this, obviously as I have much lesser chances of getting injured this way :)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;~Naveen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-116123313554223053?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/116123313554223053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=116123313554223053' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116123313554223053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116123313554223053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/10/weird-fun-it-has-started-s_116123313554223053.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-116103031592183400</id><published>2006-10-16T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T13:25:15.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Enlightened!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;He was dreaming about this moment for a long time. But when it came true, he was not all that excited. It seemed like it was nothing special than anything he had achieved so far. All the hard work that he had put in for this seemed to be pointless. He then realized that he had crossed just another virtual milestone in the mundane rat race. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-116103031592183400?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/116103031592183400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=116103031592183400' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116103031592183400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116103031592183400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/10/enlightenedhe-was-dreaming-about-this.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-116049625850348533</id><published>2006-10-10T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T09:04:18.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Amnesia&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When I was a little boy, I couldn’t wait to hit the play ground,&lt;br /&gt;When I grew up a bit, I couldn’t resist my bicycle,&lt;br /&gt;When I entered high school, I wished I didn’t have to study,&lt;br /&gt;When I went to college, I loved hanging out with my friends,&lt;br /&gt;But the day I started working, I forgot everything that I used to love!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;~Naveen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-116049625850348533?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/116049625850348533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=116049625850348533' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116049625850348533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116049625850348533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/10/amnesia-when-i-was-little-boy-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-116008193783438474</id><published>2006-10-05T13:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T13:58:57.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Apples and Oranges!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Leaves wither and float around in perfect mess,&lt;br /&gt;The sun which was lingering till midnight shies away early in the evening,&lt;br /&gt;The day light that was once warm and welcoming starts to show signs of its cold hostility,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The wind grows stronger and is no more a zephyr,&lt;br /&gt;The cacophony of chirping birds becomes a thing of the past,&lt;br /&gt;A few of the many signs of an approaching winter,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If seasons are so predictable, why isn’t life?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;~Naveen&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-116008193783438474?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/116008193783438474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=116008193783438474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116008193783438474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/116008193783438474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/10/apples-and-oranges-leaves-wither-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-115997352385600244</id><published>2006-10-04T07:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T07:52:03.883-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;On a lighter side!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sardar got into a bus on 1st April when conductor asked for ticket. He gaveRs.10/- and took the ticket and said "April fool". I have pass.......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sardar joined new job. 1st day he worked till late evening on the computer.Boss was happy and asked what you did till evening.Sardar : Keyboard alphabets were not in order, so I made it alright.......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;On a romantic day sardar's girlfriend asks him. Darling on our engagementday will you give me a ring.Sardar : Ya sure, from landline or mobile........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sardar to patient : You will die within 2 hours. Do you want to see any onebefore you die?Patient : Yes. A good doctor........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;2 sardar were fixing a bomb in a car.Sardar 1 : What would you do if the bomb explodes while fixing.sardar 2 : Dont worry, I have one more........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sardar was busy removing a wheel from his auto. A man asks sardar why areyou removing a wheel from your auto.sardar : Cant you read the board. Parking is only for 2 wheeler........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sardar : What is the name of your car ?Lady : I forgot the name, but is starts with "T".Sardar : Oye Kamaal ki gaadi hai, Tea se start hoti hai. Hamaara gaadipetrol se start hoti hai.......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Boss : Where were you born ?sardar : Punjab .Boss : which part ?sardar : Kya which part ? Whole body born in punjab.......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-115997352385600244?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/115997352385600244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=115997352385600244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115997352385600244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115997352385600244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/10/on-lighter-side-sardar-got-into-bus-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-115647147405019438</id><published>2006-08-24T19:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-24T19:04:34.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Me, Myself and My Future!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to me marrying a working woman is a safe bet for a number of reasons,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. She knows about work pressures and things that suck in a work place and would be able to empathise well with me in case I'm in such a situation.&lt;br /&gt;2. She wouldn't be home bored all alone when I'm off to work.&lt;br /&gt;3. She would be independant on her own and I would never have to worry about her security if at all something happens to me.&lt;br /&gt;4. It would be cool to introduce her to my friends, "hey, she is a doctor man..she works at XYZ company man..blah blah"..&lt;br /&gt;5. If I could afford to buy a Maruti Zen on my own, with her I could buy a brand new Honda Civic..Isn't that cool??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I guess there are some statistics that prove exactly opposite to my point of view..As per &lt;a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/1913939.cms"&gt;this article&lt;/a&gt;, it seems that as women get richer, the tendency of them getting divorced increases.&lt;br /&gt;But what the hell, these statistics are some crap given by a few morons. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-115647147405019438?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/115647147405019438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=115647147405019438' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115647147405019438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115647147405019438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/08/me-myself-and-my-future-according-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-115603340143932053</id><published>2006-08-19T17:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-19T17:23:21.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;All I need!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good collection of CDs, a never ending road, a high performance and a reliable car are all I need to enjoy life :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Naveen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-115603340143932053?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/115603340143932053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=115603340143932053' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115603340143932053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115603340143932053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/08/all-i-need-good-collection-of-cds.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-115440470415797097</id><published>2006-07-31T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-31T20:58:24.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Jack Higgins!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pages fly, surroundings go placid, mind becomes shrewd and starts putting together all permutations and combinations..you'll experience these when you read a Jack Higgins' !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Read - &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bormann Testament&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; - Completed in less than 5 hours :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently Reading - &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hell is Always today&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All time favourite - &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Eagle has Landed&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Naveen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-115440470415797097?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/115440470415797097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=115440470415797097' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115440470415797097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115440470415797097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/07/jack-higgins-pages-fly-surroundings-go.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-115423533181439078</id><published>2006-07-29T21:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-29T21:55:31.833-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;A brief review - Omkara!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw this movie yesterday. CLASSIC..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has surely done some justice to one of the greatest works of Shakespeare!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;PS: I have to admit, I never liked Othello :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Naveen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-115423533181439078?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/115423533181439078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=115423533181439078' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115423533181439078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115423533181439078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/07/brief-review-omkara-saw-this-movie.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-115363195628219762</id><published>2006-07-22T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-23T22:07:27.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Late Night Musings!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I got some time after a really really hectic week. I seriously wanted to unwind a bit to shrug off those tough and persistent deadlines sitting on my shoulders, well atleast for a brief period of time. I came home after sitting in my office for a couple of hours today. My brain was desperately pleading for a break. My roomies were tired with their chores of the day. So didn't feel like disturbing them. The only thing that I enjoy doing alone is driving. I pulled out my car from the garage and with a few nice CDs, I set off on, what I call, "The Destination - Unknown". The freeways in the US are a driver's paradise, may be not as great when compared to the Auto Bahn but they are certainly comparable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I took the I - 94 E, and set off my mental clock to 8:00 PM for returning back home. It gave me a solid 4 hrs to enjoy the setting sun. I felt like my card was on auto-pilot. My sub-concious mind was driving and my concious mind was pondering over all the good and bad that had happened over the week, mostly all official crap. I was pissed off but had to admit the fact that my mind was involuntarily drifting to my official side though I tend very hard to give myself peace from those things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I guess, my problem is being too much competitive. I dont want to lose on anything in my career, though I know, what I do is not of my actual interest. I have been raised in such a way. I lost my university gold medal by a 0.1 CGPA and that sucks me to date. So, problems like meeting the deadline, convincing my client and above all proving my manager what Im worth, makes my life miserable. Though, I try my level best not to mess my personal life with my career, they seem to tangle one way or the other. For the past 3 or 4 weekends, I have been working for more than 20 hours :(. This thought itself is nauseating!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One good thing is, I dont come home and work as most of my collegues do. I have atleast something that I could boast of. I have to convince myself that personal life is as important or more important that career. God only knows when that day of awakening would come in me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-115363195628219762?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/115363195628219762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=115363195628219762' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115363195628219762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115363195628219762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/07/late-night-musingsi-got-some-time.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-115128956060376144</id><published>2006-06-25T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T19:39:20.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;So sweet!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I know a family here who hail from my native place. The uncle, aunty and their two daughters. They are so sweet that I started liking them from the day I met them. They come to the same church where I go. They have been inviting me to their home for lunch for a long time now. I'm actually a bit reserved when it comes to these social get togethers. I dont feel very comfortable with people who are not in my age group. So I had been giving excuses for not going there till today. But today, the aunty had called me up and it was clear from her voice that she did not want to hear any excuses this time. So I made up my mind to go to their place after the service today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I drove to their place. Aunty had made chicken kurma, fish curry , rasam and a vegetarian dish. I was just blaming myself for missing such a good food for such a long time. Then she gave me this ice cream that she had made. Man, I have never tasted anything that was home made tasting so good. I had a nice time chatting with them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was indeed very sweet of them to invite me for lunch and treating me so warmly! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-115128956060376144?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/115128956060376144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=115128956060376144' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115128956060376144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115128956060376144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/06/so-sweet-i-know-family-here-who-hail.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-115038824367099416</id><published>2006-06-15T09:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T09:17:23.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Comforting!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One of my friends sent me a forward today. It had these beautiful lines, &lt;b&gt; &lt;i&gt; When God leads you to the edge of the cliff, trust Him fully and let go. Only one of two things will happen; either He'll catch you when you fall, or He'll teach you how to fly! &lt;/i&gt; &lt;/b&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I feel so light after reading this. I'm in a situation where things are pushing me to the limit. I have always believed in my prowess but there are certain things that cannot be achieved just by my human capabilities. I sure need divine intervention at this point of my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-115038824367099416?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/115038824367099416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=115038824367099416' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115038824367099416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/115038824367099416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/06/comforting-one-of-my-friends-sent-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114747659982521835</id><published>2006-05-12T16:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-12T16:29:59.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fuming!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I doing on a pleasant friday evening? Sitting in my office, furious with things that people around me are doing. How could people be so mean and f***ing selfish? I love the strenghts of my enemies and I enjoy to confront them but I hate the sick back stabbers. Go to hell ye backboneless creatures.. If you have guts speak to my face not to my ***.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PS: &lt;/span&gt;I'm sorry to have written something so rude and publishing it..but you know what? I need a vent..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114747659982521835?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114747659982521835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114747659982521835' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114747659982521835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114747659982521835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/05/fuming-what-am-i-doing-on-pleasant.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114705770889160296</id><published>2006-05-07T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-08T20:40:20.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Hiatus.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Back after a hiatus! &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hmmm..I know, I've become an irregular blogger and its after a hiatus, I'm posting this. &lt;a href="http://vivantunevie.blogspot.com/"&gt;Shikha's&lt;/a&gt; comment on my previous post has emphasised this point. But what to do? There are too manythings going on in my life. To summarize,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My work has become really hectic and I have no time to think of anything else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;2. I'm taking driving classes to my roomies and that takes most of my evenings. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And the fun parts, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;1. Bought a new Samsung T809 mobile and it is really cool (goes well with my character..eh!! :))&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;2. Going to Denver and Yellowstone national park in Wyoming during the last week of May&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;3. Flying off to Miami, Florida in the firt week of July to get some sun (I miss Chennai in this aspect :)) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I've booked my tickets and they are non-refundable, I'm just keeping my fingers crossed. Hope my work doesn't come on my way and play a spoil-sport!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hope, all you guys are having fun too!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And &lt;a href="http://ritasays.blogspot.com"&gt;Rita&lt;/a&gt;, Thanks for the update hint :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114705770889160296?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114705770889160296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114705770889160296' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114705770889160296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114705770889160296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/05/back-after-hiatus-hmmm.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114610248543697246</id><published>2006-04-26T18:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T18:48:05.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/DSC01093.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/DSC01093.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Camping!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My last post was a clear indication that I was falling in to a depression. I knew it was high time to do something out of work to escape the consequences. So we decided to camp in the forests. My roomies and two of my college friends were game for the idea. The place was decided to be Devil's lake forest. Does the name sound creepy? Atleast the girls thought so! But it sure sounded exciting to the boys. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started off at noon on Saturday with full zeal and vigor. I was a bit apprehensive about the weather because the forecast predicted scattered thunderstorms in the region where we were planning to camp. But we decided to brave the storm come what may. The forest was close to 250 Miles from our place. Rain was pouring down heavily enroute. But we were optimistic that the clouds would scatter away as we approached the destination. It took us more than 3 hours to reach the place. As we had hoped, the rain stopped and the sun came out smiling from inside the clouds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We immediately dived in to work - erect the tent before the rain started again. Everything went cool and the tent was erected in less than 10 minutes. Then it struck to our minds that we had forgotten to fill our drinking water cans. So L and yours truly took the car and went to the nearby town searching for a drinking water fountain. It took us nearly 45 mins to find one. We filled our cans and headed back to our tent. In the meantime darkness had fallen and the rest of our gang had done a great work of lighting the camp fire. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had fun dancing around the fire till mid night. We kept the car engine idling and the stereo was turned out loud. Tamil kuthu songs echoed through out the forest. We had taken maize corns which we roasted in the fire and had a nice time eating them. Then we unpacked the dinner packs and had a sumptuous dinner. After that we realized that everyone was tired to death. We decided to call it a day. There was space exactly for six people to sleep inside the tent. We tried to sleep but the temperature went below 0 and everybody started shivering. We managed to pass the night and were relieved when the first rays of sun shone through the roof of the tent. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B wanted to have some coffee and everybody felt the same. So we drove back in to the town and found only one mexican restaurant open. We decided to have a good breakfast and went in. We had pancakes, french roasts and potato fries. We went back to our camp site, brought down the tent and packed our things. We decided to explore the forest. We hiked around the lake and were tired around noon. We had a light lunch and decided to head back home.&lt;br /&gt;Nobody had slept the previous night, so everyone fell asleep in the car except me since I had to drive back :( &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We reached home around 7 in the evening, went to an Indian restaurant for dinner and decided to part ways. I dropped the girls in their apartment and came back home at around 11. Dint really know when I fall asleep and suddenly I heard a faint voice chanting my name. I realized monday had dawn and I had to get back to work :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114610248543697246?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114610248543697246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114610248543697246' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114610248543697246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114610248543697246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/04/camping-my-last-post-was-clear.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114539161024557489</id><published>2006-04-18T13:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T13:20:10.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/superego.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/superego.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;u style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;"&gt;Not a good sign!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;    &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I feel withdrawn from all the things that I used to enjoy. Things that were amusing and exciting no longer seem to be the same. An abysmal emptiness seems to invade my heart. I no longer feel like the happy-go-lucky guy that I used to be once. People have started complaining that I seem to be preoccupied with something most of the times. I could feel this myself. My thinking and my deeds are not synchronous. My thoughts are wandering in an unknown territory and a pang of shock hits me when they bounce back in to reality. I guess there is a conflict of interests between my ego and my super-ego. I want to be something and I’m being something. Whenever this reality hits me, my mind goes berserk. I have always got what I wanted. I have exactly known what was required and have always worked towards that but now I know what I want and I still don’t do anything about it. My super-ego tries to insinuate this to my ego, which apparently is not interested in this. The result – I suffer. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;    &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify; font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ironically, this happens to be my 100&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; post !&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&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/17815799-114539161024557489?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114539161024557489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114539161024557489' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114539161024557489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114539161024557489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/04/not-good-sign-i-feel-withdrawn-from.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114532847917636091</id><published>2006-04-17T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T11:32:56.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Bewildered! &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; on Orkut. Should I &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;PM&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; you or not? I'm going bonkers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;~ Naveen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/myorkut.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/myorkut.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114532847917636091?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114532847917636091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114532847917636091' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114532847917636091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114532847917636091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/04/bewildered-i-saw-you-on-orkut.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114488174442490180</id><published>2006-04-12T15:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T15:42:24.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/call.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/call.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Dell on Call!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My laptop crashed and that’s the reason why I could not post anything for a brief period of time. Gone are those days when I used to pay Rs. 20 /-, browse an hour and be contended for the rest of the week. But today, I feel amputated if I don’t have my laptop or Internet even for a day. Huh! I guess I have become addict or too much dependant on these stuffs. Well, that’s not the main crux of this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to call up Dell to find a solution to bring my laptop back to life. As usual I got the machine and it drove me crazy. It was a voice-activated system. I had to shout “Yes”, “No”, “Correct”, “Help” etc at the top of my voice to get connected to where I wanted to. The system had an accent issue! It accepts only if you say, “Yeas” and not if you say “S” on the fly. I was shouting “Yesss”, “Yeasss” and even “Ass” sometimes due to desperation. Well, why wouldn’t people think of developing such systems that recognize neutral accent?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all these English pronunciation training, I got through to a REAL PERSON. Gosh! It felt real good to hear from a fellow human being after being harassed by a machine. But the person gave me problems as well; I couldn’t effortlessly make out what he was speaking many a times. He was too fast and his accent was certainly not American. I haven’t had problems with the American accent before, but this time, it was really testing. I some how managed to guess what the guy was trying to convey. I was getting accustomed to his accent and suddenly he asked me, “Which part of India do you hail from Naveen?” I was surprised. I wasn’t anticipating such a question. How would this guy know where on earth was this place, if I say I was from Chennai? But just not to offend him, I told him the answer. He was happy and told me about the Marina beach and the Golden beach. I was like, “Wow, how did you know about them?” He said, “I work out of Kolkata”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the first time, I got a chance to speak with an Indian call center guy. I must admit I didn’t even get a clue from his accent that he was an Indian, though I could make out that he was certainly not American. But anyways, is this not a compliment to that guy? A job well done! Probably, he should speak a little slower with more pauses and stresses! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114488174442490180?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114488174442490180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114488174442490180' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114488174442490180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114488174442490180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/04/dell-on-call-my-laptop-crashed-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114374064214008916</id><published>2006-03-30T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-30T10:44:02.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/stupidity.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/stupidity.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Manifestation of Stupidity!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel kind of creepy when I read about &lt;a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/msid-1470344,curpg-1.cms"&gt;such things&lt;/a&gt;. A 19-year boy having sex with a 17-year school kid is socially acceptable (in the Indian context) or not is altogether a different issue. I’m not delving in to it now. But I cannot digest the fact that people could be so dumb. You do something that’s very private and personal (and of course not even legal) and instead of burying it deep in your hearts you leave a manifestation of it for the whole world to see. Similar incident happened in 2000 or 2001. Two college friends in Bangalore had their sex act filmed in their handy cam and when the guy wanted a CD print for himself, the whole world had it before he did. The DPS issue is the latest in this genre. I know, it is sick but then you must remember that you live in a mad, mad world. Now, some of you might argue that it is one’s own wish that he or she could do whatever they want to and the world must go blind. If you are one with such idealistic thoughts, Mars might be perfectly suitable for you inhabitance. One thing that kindles my curiosity is that, why do people want to film these things? Is it something that they invented? Is it not something that is happening from the days of Adam and Eve? Can they ever share it with they children/grand children? If no, then, why on earth would they do this? I’m clueless. You have any ideas? Enlighten me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are still adamant about filming, you might want to check out &lt;a href="http://www.sonystyle.com/is-bin/INTERSHOP.enfinity/eCS/Store/en/-/USD/SY_DisplayProductInformation-Start?ProductSKU=DCRDVD105&amp;Dept=cameras&amp;amp;CategoryName=dcc_DICamcorders_DVDHandycamCamcorders"&gt;this handy cam&lt;/a&gt;. It writes directly to a DVD!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114374064214008916?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114374064214008916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114374064214008916' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114374064214008916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114374064214008916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/03/manifestation-of-stupidity-i-feel-kind.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114356649708305697</id><published>2006-03-28T10:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T10:21:37.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Weekend Thrills!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m back, much earlier than I expected. Probably the weekend provided the necessary thrust to wake me up from my hibernation. Bad ones first, my laptop is infected with a Trojan spam and my stupid Norton failed to destroy it. I’m downloading all available spywares to get it cleaned up. Till now, all my efforts are futile. Ok, now to the good ones. I watched two movies this weekend. My views on them follow,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;Stay Alive&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/StayAlive.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="292" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/StayAlive.jpg" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Apt to the name, the movie is scary and thrilling. “&lt;em&gt;Stay Alive&lt;/em&gt;” is the name of a video game on which this movie is based on. “&lt;em&gt;What happens when the game starts playing you?&lt;/em&gt;” – the movie promos flash this line everywhere. I guess, it explains all. A group of friends are being haunted after they start playing this game. They start getting killed in the same way they are killed in the game. Sounds creepy? Believe me, it is! The first half of the movie is very good. The director has managed to scare the audience every now and then. The background music is haunting and keeps you guessing all time what would be happening next. Till the end of the first half, it seemed like it was one of the best horror movies, I had seen recently. But the second half was lousy and it was a complete let down. It ended like a fairy tale, which could possibly scare toddlers, I’m not even sure of this. But in all, it was a pretty decent movie that could be watched once at least for the sake of the first half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Hills have Eyes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was my second thriller in a row. The trailer of this movie evoked a lot of curiosity and I couldn’t resist it. “&lt;em&gt;Between 1932 and 1955, the US government has conducted stealthily more than 331 nuclear tests in the deserts of New Mexico&lt;/em&gt;” – The movie starts with this prologue. I &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/hillshaveeyes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/hillshaveeyes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;could guess something about this movie even during the titles. And I was right! A whole inhabited village has suffered the wrath of nuclear radiation because of a nuclear testing performed by the US government. It has become lost and unidentified in the middle of the New Mexico desert. Years later, there are cases of people disappearing who try to cross this desert region. The movie revolves around the mysterious things that happen to an American family who plan on a road trip to San Diego, CA through this desert. More than scary, I would say, this movie is gory. Too much of bloodshed and too many unpleasant things force one to close his eyes involuntarily. The plot is not so tight and if you had watched movies like the House of Wax, you could make a guess on what would happen next. I don’t know how long would Hollywood cash in on the idea of a disappeared village/town. “Silent Hill” is another movie that is getting released this spring; I guess it has the same story line. If you are a horror buff and if gory things were your interest, I would say, there is no harm in watching this movie once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are still a couple of more movies on my list, &lt;em&gt;V for Vendetta&lt;/em&gt;, heard that the dialogues are very good; &lt;em&gt;Failure to Launch&lt;/em&gt;, I don’t like Sarah Jessica Parker and that’s one reason why I don’t feel like running to this movie but I heard that it is a refreshingly good comedy. And then of course, I would watch &lt;em&gt;MI 3&lt;/em&gt;, once it gets released. &lt;em&gt;X-Men 3&lt;/em&gt; is also stated to be released soon but I’m not very fond of it, so might skip that one. Hah! Lets see!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope, all you guys had a great weekend too!&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/17815799-114356649708305697?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114356649708305697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114356649708305697' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114356649708305697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114356649708305697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/03/weekend-thrills-im-back-much-earlier.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114325720518306384</id><published>2006-03-24T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-24T20:31:06.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Ran out!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I’ve probably run out of things to write about. I don’t want to let my blog die but then my brain has become so much uncooperative that getting something out of it is like, like whatever! See, I can’t even think of a metaphor! Guess, a short break would certainly aid in replenishing my gray cells. So, until my brain starts overflowing with ideas, I would abstain myself from posting anything. But sure would I read your posts! Keep checking out (Ohh! I love this song by Beyonce Knowles!!) this space; I might get some gyan at midnight and might feel irresistible to write about it!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114325720518306384?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114325720518306384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114325720518306384' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114325720518306384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114325720518306384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/03/ran-out-i-think-ive-probably-run-out.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114247315963746495</id><published>2006-03-15T18:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T18:39:19.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.silverbearcafe.com/private/images/guru.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.silverbearcafe.com/private/images/guru.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Guru!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to feel like a fish out of water, living in a world where everyone except me seemed to have a thing in common. &lt;strong&gt;LOVE&lt;/strong&gt;. I was experiencing suffocation. It was not that I was against love or something but when people started discussing about their affairs, I felt as if I was estranged. One of my co-workers is trying hard to head back home and get married with her boy friend. Day in, day out, she would keep on talking about this; A roommate of mine is always busy over the phone working hard not to let go of his girl friend by flying kisses over the cable; while the other two are engrossed day and night discussing what would be the best way to let their parents know about their love affairs. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amidst all these hullabaloos, I was sitting like a perfect monk, impassive and mouth shut, making sure that I didn’t mouth any smart comments. Whenever somebody started this topic, I would go in to hibernation. My physical presence used to cover up the fact that I was mentally absent. But it didn’t need a genius to know that I was not interested in the conversations. I was becoming silent and silent and suddenly I even started talking to myself to ascertain the fact that I was not a mute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of late, I have started enjoying the show. You won’t believe me, if I say that I’ve become an adept counselor in this niche area. The hardest part in this role is keeping your laughter concealed behind your lips. Believe me, there is a huge risk of getting killed in this job. For instance, when a lover boy comes to you and seeks your advice on what he should present his girl friend to make her happy, the instantaneous thing that would come to my mind is – a good boy friend. If I spit these words, my chances of survival would tend down to minus infinity. But then, there is no fun in doing things that are risk-free. Right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This part time job is very lucrative in terms of its entertainment value and the high level of visibility that you get out of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;PS:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Parts of the above said are fictitious and were meant only for the writer’s self-entertainment! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114247315963746495?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114247315963746495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114247315963746495' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114247315963746495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114247315963746495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/03/guru-i-used-to-feel-like-fish-out-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114229984372191472</id><published>2006-03-13T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T18:32:37.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Twists and turns..&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…Whims and vagaries, be it whatever in these lines, nature would be the perfect example to illustrate such phrases. Living in a country where there are four, clearly demarcated seasons, spring, summer, fall and winter, it is really amazing to experience the sudden changes in the weather. When everybody thought that winter had come to an end, nature had different plans. The whole of last week was pleasant in the 10’s and we were planning happily for the next week, camping? Hiking? Driving? And what not? But in a matter of minutes, all over plans came to the ground.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was breezy, warm and in the high 10’s till 7’o clock in the evening yesterday. And then it all started one by one. Rain showers, sleets, snow flurries and then came the snowstorm, whoosh from nowhere. It snowed all through the night and hasn’t ceased yet, resulting in the accrual of 10 inches of snow on the roads and side walks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Today morning, on the way to office, my car didn’t bother to be maneuvered, it took its own course. I steer left it veers to the right. After a few dexterous ice-skating moves on the road, I managed to reach office. I’m still looking through the window, hoping that the weather would become better. I see some light through the blinds. Now, that’s a good sign. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There’s one more thing to be done that has started haunting me now, scraping the ice out of my car. Poor thing, I have left it to suffer in an open parking. Hell, I guess, I have to scrap the faceplates first to identify mine or else I would have cleared up someone else’s free of cost. Well, I can never dream of doing all these things once I’m back in India. So, though these activities suck, a pang of ecstasy rushes out from somewhere inside my heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Photo - 1 - View from my patio&lt;/u&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/DSC00773.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/DSC00791.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/DSC00791.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Photo - 2 - My drive way&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/DSC00791.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114229984372191472?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114229984372191472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114229984372191472' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114229984372191472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114229984372191472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/03/twists-and-turns.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114201688721091033</id><published>2006-03-10T11:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-10T11:54:47.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/GreemMem.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/GreemMem.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Some things, some places and some people…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..are fresh in our memories, etched deep in our hearts. I’m trying to give shape to one such incident. I know I could never bring all those subtle feelings on paper. Let me give it a shot though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Place:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; St. Thomas Mount, Chennai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Time:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; 4 years back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Actors:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Ms. X and Me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Prologue:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;I’ve already written about Ms. X somewhere in my previous posts. But anyways, here is a quick intro. She was one of the thickest friends I had in college. One day, as usual, she had screwed up her DSP exam and came out crying out of the exam hall. Being a good friend, I knew exactly how to handle such things. We went to St. Thomas Mt; sat there watching planes land and take off, enjoying a chocobar. Neither of us spoke. I knew she was too engrossed in her exam. I never start a conversation under such circumstances. She broke the spell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I’m sorry to have brought you here with your exams tomorrow. But I needed someone to talk to. I would go insane crying if I were alone. You know that, don’t you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Its ok. And you very well know that I don’t read at the last minute. I enjoy going out during exams. Hey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I know that. But don’t blame me, if you didn’t get good grades. You always do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Hey! Come on. Don’t you start an argument now? Okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Do you mean to say that I initiate a fight always? I should never have come here. I thought you would be bored and that’s the reason I agreed to come with you. Now, you are spoiling my mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; *Eyes wide open* you came here for me???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Of course! Would I have come here if it were not you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; God! I came here for you and it was not the other way. Ok, whatever lets go back to the hostel. I’m in no mood now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; *childish look* I’m sorry. This is all because of my stupid exam. Lets stay here for some more time. It’s so pleasant and serene here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; See, you always say something stupid and then plead guilty. I have to forget everything and become normal right at that moment. I’m fed up with this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Hey! You have to bear with this only for one more month. College is getting over and I would be gone. *laughs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;*shocked but managed to keep my face impassive*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Silence prevailed for 5 minutes)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She: &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Would you miss me and all these silly fracas and reconciliations?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; No way, I would be relieved of all these, yay!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; *(looked in to my eyes and stared for a moment. I felt as she was thinking “Something deep down inside me says that you would feel bad about this one day”)*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;Present:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;It is so true, even after 4 years, I still miss her and our silly fights. I’m somewhere in NA and she is happily married and lives in a beautiful country in Europe. Mouth sometimes utters words without consulting the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/17815799-114201688721091033?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114201688721091033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114201688721091033' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114201688721091033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114201688721091033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/03/some-things-some-places-and-some.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114170982930123769</id><published>2006-03-06T22:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-06T22:37:09.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/HayekSalma755061550.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/HayekSalma755061550.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Perfectly Droolable......!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/14HayekSalm550240445.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/14HayekSalm550240445.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/5910_hayek_88497497.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Is this &lt;em&gt;Helen&lt;/em&gt;? No... &lt;em&gt;Cassandra&lt;/em&gt;? Nope...this is &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Salma Hayek&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, undoubtfully comparable to any greek beauty :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114170982930123769?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114170982930123769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114170982930123769' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114170982930123769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114170982930123769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/03/perfectly-droolable.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114127802466069660</id><published>2006-03-01T22:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T22:40:28.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;A wrong signal!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Unusually, I was having some time today to watch TV. I generally enjoy the comedy shows that come on air after 6:30. I was enjoying Seinfeld and then came Malcom in the middle. For those of you who haven't watched M in the M, a brief intro on what it is about. 4 teenage boys and their relationship with their girlfriends is all about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Donna and Eric are long term friends. Donna is very sporty and skilled. She beats Eric in almost everything, be it basket ball or hockey. Eric gets humiliated by his friends for losing to his girl. At times, he gets uncomfortable with Donna due to this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A dialogue of Donna's mom under this circumstances infuriated me, "Donna, you must make men feel that you are weak and fragile, that makes them feel that they are superior in this world. Only then, they will be comfortable in any relationship". Now, what is this? Are men like this? I havent been in a long term relationship with any girl so far. Even if I'm, I would certainly not feel this way. So do my friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We speak of women's liberalization and equality. But, if women fake themselves like this for satisfying some stupid men, how could we ever take any step further in this. I know, I should not be bothered by a comedy show but something tells me that this sends wrong signals to both the sides! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114127802466069660?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114127802466069660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114127802466069660' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114127802466069660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114127802466069660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/03/wrong-signal-unusually-i-was-having.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114080046194493336</id><published>2006-02-24T09:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-24T10:01:02.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/touch.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/touch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Are we in touch?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“&lt;em&gt;Keep in touch&lt;/em&gt;” – our fingers automatically type these words when we send an email to our friends. But if we ask ourselves the question, “&lt;em&gt;Are we in touch&lt;/em&gt;?” the answer predominantly is a strong &lt;strong&gt;NO&lt;/strong&gt;. I was lucky (&lt;em&gt;or unlucky&lt;/em&gt;!) because I had the opportunity to study in different places. Eventually I met up with a lot of people and had made them friends. When it was time to shift base, I would be feeling very bad to leave the place and my hard earned friends. It is really hard to make friends with someone in a short span of time and given my reserved nature, it is even harder, and hence I use the phrase, hard earned friends. I would be rendered totally speechless when I part with them. The only words that I could manage would be, “&lt;em&gt;Lets keep in touch&lt;/em&gt;”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a software programmer would put it, the above scenario will be executed in a loop. I change places, I change schools, and I make new friends but never ever try to keep up my words. It is not that I didn’t want to but I never cared to. Yesterday, I got a call that made provoked me to think about this. My 10th classmate called me all the way from India. It had been close to 4 years since we had any kind of communication between us. I barely could recognize his voice. I was ecstatic to speak with him. We spoke for nearly an hour and before we hung up, he asked me, “&lt;em&gt;When you left Madurai, we decided that we would keep in touch but it has been close to 4 years since the last time I called you up. You didn’t even bother to inform me that you are going to the states. I had to call aunty (my mom) and get your number. What kept you all this while from not calling me?&lt;/em&gt;” All I could say was a &lt;strong&gt;SORRY&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We make good friends in life but we are so much lethargic to call them up or send an email once in a while to let them know that you still remember them. I’ve decided to give life to the words, “Keep in touch” from now on. Guys, if you think, you’ll know with how many good friends you’ve lost touch. The count would be alarming. Is it not?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114080046194493336?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114080046194493336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114080046194493336' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114080046194493336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114080046194493336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/02/are-we-in-touch-keep-in-touch-our.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114072637693874591</id><published>2006-02-23T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T13:26:16.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Funny!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was rummaging my mailbox for getting hold of an email. Suddenly this forward caught my eye. Thought of posting it here so that you could also enjoy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A Mother had 3 virgin daughters. They were all getting married within a short time period.Because Mom was a bit worried about how their sex life would get started,she made them all promise to send a postcard from the honeymoon with a few words on how marital sex felt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first girl sent a card from Hawaii two days after the wedding. The card said nothing but "&lt;em&gt;Nescafe&lt;/em&gt;". Mom was puzzled at first, but then went the kitchen and got out the Nescafe jar. It said: "&lt;em&gt;Good till the lastdrop&lt;/em&gt;." Mom blushed, but was pleased for her daughter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second girl sent the card from Vermont a week after the wedding, and the card read: "&lt;em&gt;Benson &amp; Hedges&lt;/em&gt;". Mom now knew to go straight to herhusband's cigarettes, and she read from the Benson &amp;amp; Hedges pack:"&lt;em&gt;Extra Long. King Size&lt;/em&gt;". She was again slightly embarrassed but still happy for her daughter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third girl left for her honeymoon in the Caribbean. Mom waited for a week, nothing. Another week went by and still nothing. Then after a whole month, a card finally arrived. Written on it with shaky handwriting were the words "&lt;em&gt;British Airways&lt;/em&gt;". Mom took out her latest Harper's Bazaarmagazine, flipped through the pages fearing the worst, and finally found the ad for British Airways. The ad said: "&lt;em&gt;Three times a day, seven days a week, both ways&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mom fainted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114072637693874591?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114072637693874591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114072637693874591' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114072637693874591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114072637693874591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/02/funny-i-was-rummaging-my-mailbox-for.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114048645127605046</id><published>2006-02-20T18:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T18:47:31.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/hotbabe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/hotbabe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Am I hot? &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are you supposed to say when a girl asks you this? I don’t know how guys would have reacted to this but I was clueless.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This happened on Saturday. I had received a package on Friday and since I was not there in my house, the parcel had been handed over to my apartment manager, Tina (she actually manages the office in the after hours). She is a girl in her early 20s. To be true, she is pretty attractive. In all those revealing attires, she sure does make you throw a glance at her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to her on Saturday to collect the package. But she was not there. I waited for sometime and then started heading back to my apartment. On the way back, I saw her coming out of one of the apartments. She smiled at me and I smiled back (It’s a formality here, smiling and saying hi to everyone!). I wanted to ask her about my parcel but suddenly I changed my mind and I questioned her if she was living in the same apartment building.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I dint know the implication of this question. She smiled at me and asked, "Why? Do you think I’m hot?" I was embarrassed to see the weird expression in her face. She was giggling. Then I realized my mistake. She mistook(or otherwise took the cue smartly!) that I was interested in her. Damn! I have never been asked such a question by a girl before and so I was a bit shocked. I tried to keep my cool and stammered, "Of course, you are Tina, but all I wanted to know was if I could come over to your place and collect my parcel." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She blushed and led me in to her office and handed over my package. Guess, I should be expecting such off-guard questions when I speak to an American girl who is in the prime of her&lt;br /&gt;ages. Well, see what happens the next time when someone tries to bowl me over like this :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114048645127605046?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114048645127605046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114048645127605046' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114048645127605046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114048645127605046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/02/am-i-hot-what-are-you-supposed-to-say.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-114021426401254711</id><published>2006-02-17T15:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T15:11:04.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;I live inside a freezer! &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 327px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 98px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="108" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/freezin.jpg" width="334" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gosh! I feel like a &lt;em&gt;packet of frozen meat&lt;/em&gt; sitting inside a &lt;em&gt;freezer&lt;/em&gt;. Chennai has not taught me to endure this cold. It has let me down !!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-114021426401254711?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/114021426401254711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=114021426401254711' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114021426401254711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/114021426401254711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-live-inside-freezer-gosh-i-feel-like.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113995425220605752</id><published>2006-02-14T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T14:57:32.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Love.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/Love.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Valentine’s day and all huh hah!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought of abstaining myself from posting something on this. But then, things are really driving me up against the wall. What on Earth is Feb 14? For me, it is just as any other day. Did somebody say that this is an auspicious day for proposing one’s love? What the heck? If a girl or a boy really loves you, he/ she is going to accept you even if you are proposing on Jan 14th or Mar 14th or for that matter any day of the year. Then, why all these unwanted drama?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the groceries yesterday and was annoyed to see that tomatoes were sold on a discount – &lt;em&gt;Valentine’s Day special&lt;/em&gt;! What the hell is the connection between love and tomatoes? May be if a freak bugs a girl on this day with his love proposal, she could use these tomatoes to scare him away. I really can’t think of any other solid reason for all these stupid Valentine’s Day specials. Businesses have started using this day to market their goods and our love-bug bitten people never seem to understand this. &lt;em&gt;Did Cupid ask you to be stupid?&lt;/em&gt; As far as my limited knowledge goes, I don’t think so!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how a red Rose or a box of Ferroro Rocher impresses girls on this day and not to mention the heart-shaped balloons. Thankfully, I don’t see the balloons here in the US. I’m perfectly Ok, if people use this day just for pure fun. Just like how the kids have fun on the Halloween’s day. But, I don’t think people take this day that lightly. I see reminders in my friends’ calendars to send flowers/chocolates to their GFs, Is that so important? What would happen if you fail to do so? Break-Up? If your lover girl or boy were so stupid, I would rather say break up happily. If it were “&lt;em&gt;Happy Valentine’s Day&lt;/em&gt;” for others, it would be “&lt;em&gt;Happy Independence Day&lt;/em&gt;” for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might think, I write all these because I’m single. No. I would be practical even if I’m in love with someone. To me love is feeling that does not need any worldly expressions. I don’t have to send love notes often to my girl friend reminding that I’m in love with her. (&lt;em&gt;This doesn’t imply that I’m not romantic!&lt;/em&gt;). I don’t need a red rose or the Feb 14th to affirm my love. When I’m in love, I would feel exactly as Ronan Keating sings,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Without saying a word, You can light up the dark&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Try as I may I could never explain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What I hear when You don't say a thing&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;PS:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;View expressed above is strictly my personal opinion and I’m not responsible if it had brought any impacts on your lifestyle :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113995425220605752?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113995425220605752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113995425220605752' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113995425220605752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113995425220605752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/02/valentines-day-and-all-huh-hah-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113979589788184895</id><published>2006-02-12T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T18:58:17.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Sleep.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/Sleep.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Oops, the weekend is coming to an end!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does it happen this way always? I plan so much for the weekend and finally when it comes, I bust it royally! This weekend was no exception. Had lots of plans like visiting the world famous "Mall of America" and then going for a long drive. But all I could manage was to watch the movie "Firewall" and sleep the rest of the weekend. *sheepish smile*. What else could I do, when the weather is horribly chill and getting up from my bed in itself is kind of a penance? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my friends had invited us for lunch today. We had a great food. Ambrosia, wouldn't be an exaggerated word to explain it. Naan, Prawns curry, Chicken 65, Bhaigen Bartha, More Kozambhu, Urundai Kozambhu etc etc..Wow! What a food? I just came back home. I feel as if I dont have to eat for eternity :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have received "Troy" DVD from Blockbuster today. Hoping to watch it for the 5th time! Hectar, the tamer of horses and the great Greek hero, Achilles are an absolute delight to be watched over and over again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thought of going back to office tomorrow is kind of boring, I still have 12 hours of my weekend left and so I dont want to spoil it by thinking about the chores of tomorrow!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113979589788184895?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113979589788184895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113979589788184895' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113979589788184895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113979589788184895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/02/oops-weekend-is-coming-to-end-why-does.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113935243595431930</id><published>2006-02-07T15:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T15:52:59.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Work.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="204" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/Work.gif" width="197" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Either more or less but never even!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was feeling like a 7th grader who wonders how to name his preci-writing passage in the exam. Well, I wanted to write something but the content that was in my mind was so diverse and digressed that coming up with a suitable title had become a Herculean task. But after careful analysis of the content, I figured out the central theme of this post and named it accordingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the welfare of you guys who are wondering what this is going to be all about – it’s about my JOB!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been days when I’ve felt that 12 hours is really not enough to complete even 30 % of my work. I have sweated all through the night to finish it. On the other hand, there have been days (like today) when I have literally nothing to do. This drives me real crazy. Tell me, what would I do sitting before my computer all day long?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can check my email. May be I could refresh it every 10 minutes to check for a new mail, which I know for sure wouldn’t have come. All my friends are super cool, they flood my box when I’m busy but leave it dry and desolate when I’m looking forward to mails. I can’t blame them because I know they are also experiencing the same problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing that I could do is to check my blog and see, if any gracious soul has been kind enough to read my rantings and have left a comment, but for how long? I guess I would hurt my index finger by striking the F5 key very often!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m just wondering, is there not a way by which people can have work evenly distributed across the days? I’m not asking for more nor am I asking for less, all I’m asking is work for 8 hours. Well, if this happens, it would be a dream come true!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know if this happens in other industries but this is what is happening in the s/w industry. God, bless the pour souls who call themselves IT professionals from going bonkers due to the lack and lakh of work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113935243595431930?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113935243595431930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113935243595431930' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113935243595431930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113935243595431930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/02/either-more-or-less-but-never-even-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113924582214481245</id><published>2006-02-06T10:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T10:10:22.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;This time – a four thingy tag!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tagged again by &lt;a href="http://ritasays.blogspot.com"&gt;Fraulein Rita&lt;/a&gt;. Here goes the list of my fours,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Four Jobs I’ve had: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S/W Engineer&lt;br /&gt;S/W Engineer&lt;br /&gt;S/W Engineer&lt;br /&gt;S/W Engineer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This isn’t funny right? After writing this, I’m seriously thinking about a switch!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Four movies I could watch over and over again:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;U – 571&lt;br /&gt;Ben-Hur&lt;br /&gt;The Great Escape&lt;br /&gt;Lagaan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Four places I’ve lived:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, this is a very simple one. I’ve an endless list but I’m forced to restrict to four!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chennai&lt;br /&gt;Madurai&lt;br /&gt;Tirunelveli&lt;br /&gt;Salt Lake City – US&lt;br /&gt;…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Four TV shows I love to watch:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Err..I’m not a regular TV watcher. So PASS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Four places I’ve been on vacation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, this is a piece of cake!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kodaikanal&lt;br /&gt;Ooty&lt;br /&gt;Mussourie &amp;amp; Dehradun&lt;br /&gt;Indianapolis – US&lt;br /&gt;….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Four of my favorite foods&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chicken Biryani&lt;br /&gt;Murukku&lt;br /&gt;Vadai&lt;br /&gt;Bhajji&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Four places I’d rather be right now:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my parents&lt;br /&gt;Chennai&lt;br /&gt;Switzerland&lt;br /&gt;New Zealand – I’m dying to visit this beautiful country!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Four sites I visit daily:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deals2buy.com&lt;br /&gt;My Blog and my friends’ blogs&lt;br /&gt;My official mailbox&lt;br /&gt;Rediff.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Four bloggers I’m tagging:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://vivantunevie.blogspot.com/"&gt;Shikha&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://rickyunleashed.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ricky&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://perpend.blogspot.com/"&gt;Akshay&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://lifesforwards.blogspot.com/"&gt;My Ramblings&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113924582214481245?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113924582214481245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113924582214481245' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113924582214481245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113924582214481245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/02/this-time-four-thingy-tag-tagged-again.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113886015633459612</id><published>2006-02-01T22:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-08T19:32:50.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Hiyaa!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have got a Subaru Outback :) It drives very good and more importantly it has a 4 x 4 drive train :) I'm all excited now!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/DSC00745.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/DSC00745.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/DSC00746.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/DSC00746.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/DSC00744.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113886015633459612?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113886015633459612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113886015633459612' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113886015633459612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113886015633459612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/02/hiyaa-i-have-got-subaru-outback-it.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113875522178724856</id><published>2006-01-31T17:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-31T18:01:03.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;After a hiatus!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been in a trans-state all the while. Ever since I moved in to the new city, I’m bombarded with so much work that I literally don’t have a second in a 24 hour day for myself. I have become a perfect s/w robot shuttling between work and sleep (I mean, my home). At least the last two weekends were nice and easy. Last Sunday, we had invited few friends to our house for lunch. We made Chicken Briyani, Fish fry, Onion raitha (I made this :)) and bhajjis. Everything came out very well and I couldnt believe my ears when one of the girls who had come over appreciated the food. She is a very good cook and to hear a word of appreciation from her is something GREAT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Today, I was literally shocked to see tons of emails from my college friends. They are planning for a get-together in Chicago. Initially, I wasnt all that interested in joining them but now I'm the one eagerly awaiting for the day. The reason is plain and simple. One of my friends is bringing her roommates  along with her. They are supposed to be very pretty and the fact that my friend has created so much of a hype about them, I would be the stupidest person on earth, if I dint go there :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming to the present, I need a car desperately. Yesterday, I had a look at a Honda Civic and I liked it very much but today when I called up the owner, the car was already sold. Today I went to another dealer and saw a Mazda 626. The engine needs a tuneup but apart from that the car is worth every penny. I should go there tomorrow and have a look at that again. Hoping to close the deal tomorrow!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Escape.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m totally in love with the Ford Escape that I hate the thought of returning it back. But like the adage goes, "All good things must come to an end", I will have to part with it on Saturday :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;That is pretty much what I was doing all these days! Hoping to post things regularly but I cannot vouch on that :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113875522178724856?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113875522178724856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113875522178724856' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113875522178724856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113875522178724856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/after-hiatus-ive-been-in-trans-state.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113859764814840828</id><published>2006-01-29T22:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T22:07:29.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Rang De Basanti - A movie par excellence!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I watched Rang De Basanti on Friday! An amazing movie, technically superb, the narration was unique and splendid, AR Rehman has rocked throughout the movie, Siddharth, Aamir, Kunal and Alice have lived their roles..what else could I say? Just watch it and look for yourselves!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113859764814840828?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113859764814840828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113859764814840828' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113859764814840828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113859764814840828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/rang-de-basanti-movie-par-excellence-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113807670311801031</id><published>2006-01-23T21:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T21:25:03.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Day.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Day.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Another First Day!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday starts afresh and has always got something new in store for us but we are so much engrossed in our simple and mundane activities that we rarely enjoy the nicecities of a new day. But when we go to a new place, we watch pretty much everything that are happening around us with curiosity and with maximum attentivity. Having stated the general rule, I must confess that I too fall under the same bucket. Today being the first day at work in a new place, I was enjoying each and everything that was falling on my eyes. The huge identical buildings that stretched like a maze from North to South and from East to West left me totally disoriented. I started feeling like Columbus startled in the high seas without a Sailor's Compass. The driveway to the parking garage was winding and weaving like Priety's curly hair (this is history now!) that made me clueless of where it was taking me. I was glad to have my friend beside me who navigated me so well that I felt once in a while(Yea, only once in a while!) that I was going in the right direction. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things inside the new office were not less amazing. The receptionist was way too much friendly that I felt she was flirting with me (I know, this is too much!). Then I was escorted to meet my manager. I guess I was too early (I went in at 8.45 AM !), nobody from my team was in. I sat in my friend's office for a while and in the meantime my manager had arrived. We went in a whirlwind tour to meet all my clients and the the client partner managers. It was so quick that I still cant relate the names and faces of the people. But anyways, Im going to be here for a while and Im sure I could remember the names by then. The project is starting actually tomorrow and so it was more a setup day for me. Call up the IT helpdesk, configure the Lotus Notes, setup voicemail and in similar things my day flew off.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The brand new Ford Escape that I have rented is really cool. It is a pleasure to drive it. The 4 x 4 drive train is a real fun to drive in the snow covered roads. I came back home at 5:30 PM and my roommate baked me an omlette. Wow! It tasted like elixir. Then, I had to drive back to the office again to pick up another room mate. In the meantime the snow had covered my car completely and I had to clean off the windshield and the mirrors standing and shivering in the Minnesota cold. Now, I'm writing this post while cooking on one side. Sambhar is getting ready and I'm expecting it to come out well! Lets see!! Nothing is certain till the last moment!&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/17815799-113807670311801031?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113807670311801031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113807670311801031' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113807670311801031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113807670311801031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/another-first-day-everyday-starts.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113779435733984301</id><published>2006-01-20T14:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-20T14:59:17.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Life.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Life.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Life goes on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not new to me. I have lived with this all my life. I have never been in a place for more than 2-3 years (&lt;em&gt;college being the exception!).&lt;/em&gt; And now, history is repeating itself. I’m moving out of Salt Lake City where I was for the past 10 months to another – a much colder place. The thought by itself is making me feel jittery. There are so many things that I love about Salt Lake City, the snow clad mountains surrounding the calm and the serene valley, the polite and amiable people, the not so crowded social centers and above all my group of friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Va, Ak, Ar, Sa, Ra and Mo (&lt;em&gt;I’ll miss you guys!)&lt;/em&gt; have been the best bunch of friends that I have made ever since I left college. My ten months of stay in this city would be fresh in my memories for a long time to come. The night long arguments that we have had, our cooking escapades, the tickets that we got, the endless nights of movies, the places that we visited and all the fun that we have had so far have been perpetuated in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere deep down in my heart, I can hear voices enunciating that I would be missing this place and these friends. The keener I tend to hear them, I also hear someone saying, “That’s life for you. It is a long journey and no matter what happens on the way, it goes on and on till you die”. Ohh! How true?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to just go and find out what the Saint (my destination abridged!) has in store for me! Hope it would be as exciting as SLC!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Auf Wiedersehen SLC!!&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113779435733984301?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113779435733984301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113779435733984301' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113779435733984301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113779435733984301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/life-goes-on-this-is-not-new-to-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113778044644883725</id><published>2006-01-20T11:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-20T11:07:26.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Seducer in Me?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was a bit curious to know my style after reading &lt;a href="http://thinkinghappythoughts.blogspot.com/"&gt;Nothings Aplenty&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://lifesforwards.blogspot.com/"&gt;My Ramblings&lt;/a&gt; posts on this :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"  style="color:#eee9e9;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Seduction Style: Au Natural&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#fffafa"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatkindofseducerareyouquiz/au-natural.jpg" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You rank up there with your seduction skills, though you might not know it.&lt;br /&gt;That's because you're a natural at seduction. You don't realize your power!&lt;br /&gt;The root of your natural seduction power: your innocence and optimism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the type of person who happily plays around and creates a unique little world.&lt;br /&gt;Little do you know that your personal paradise is so appealing that it sucks people in.&lt;br /&gt;You find joy in everything - so is it any surprise that people find joy in you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You bring back the inner child in everyone you meet with your sincere and spontaneous ways.&lt;br /&gt;Your childlike (but not childish) behavior also inspires others to care for you.&lt;br /&gt;As a result, those who you befriend and date tend to be incredibly loyal to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofseducerareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Seducer Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113778044644883725?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113778044644883725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113778044644883725' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113778044644883725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113778044644883725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/seducer-in-me-was-bit-curious-to-know.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113753466307586246</id><published>2006-01-17T14:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T14:51:03.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Stressed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="166" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Stressed.jpg" width="198" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;In no mood!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m stressed out too much today. I feel as if my head weighs 1000 lbs. Too many things are running in my mind, clogging up my brain. As the saying goes, “Physically present but mentally absent”, I’m moving around like a non-living thing. Gosh! By tomorrow noon conditions should improve (or worsen!), I cannot stand this any further.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113753466307586246?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113753466307586246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113753466307586246' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113753466307586246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113753466307586246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/in-no-mood-im-stressed-out-too-much.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113743164990346929</id><published>2006-01-16T10:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T10:14:09.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/TrueLove.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/TrueLove.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Tag - Expectations Unlimited !!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ritasays.blogspot.com/"&gt;Rita&lt;/a&gt; had tagged me and here are the rules of passing the tag: &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;2. Need to mention the sex of the target.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;3. Tag 8 victims to join this game &amp; leave a comment on their comments saying they’ve been tagged.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;4. If tagged the 2nd time, there’s no need to post again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Target:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Female&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love should be (given in the order of precedence),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. God Fearing&lt;br /&gt;2. Loving &amp;amp; Loveable&lt;br /&gt;3. Knowledgeable&lt;br /&gt;4. Smart &amp;amp; Humorous&lt;br /&gt;5. Accommodative&lt;br /&gt;6. Hyper-active&lt;br /&gt;7. Smiling and Pleasant looking&lt;br /&gt;8. Optimistic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, are these high expectations ?? :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s the turn for these guys to open up,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://rickyunleashed.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ricky&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://harini188.blogspot.com/"&gt;Harini&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://perpend.blogspot.com/"&gt;Akshay&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://vidushi.blogspot.com/"&gt;Vidya&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://saivs.blogspot.com/"&gt;Sai&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t find 8 victims, most of my friends have already been tagged ..:( &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113743164990346929?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113743164990346929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113743164990346929' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113743164990346929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113743164990346929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/tag-expectations-unlimited-rita-had.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113718866145169936</id><published>2006-01-13T14:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T14:44:21.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/MathTeacher.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/MathTeacher.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Math Teacher&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I got this story as a forward long back..but I still do read this once in a while!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One day a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers. That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" she heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much." No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That group of students moved on. Several years later, one of the students was killed in Vietnam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student. She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature. The church was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin. As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. She nodded, yes. Then he said "Mark talked about you a lot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates went together to a luncheon. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it." Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list it’s in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album.” I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. I carry this with me at all times, “Vicki said without batting an eyelash.” I think we all saved our lists." That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again. The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be. So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tell them, before it is too late....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113718866145169936?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113718866145169936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113718866145169936' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113718866145169936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113718866145169936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/math-teacher-i-got-this-story-as.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113710242708466909</id><published>2006-01-12T14:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T14:47:10.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Propose.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Propose.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Be serious!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being playful and funny has its own flipside. I was very playful when I was at college. Never really bothered about anything, no strong emotional attachments, I had always lived the moment. I would always love to hang out with my friends enjoying things, be it the Re. 1 bhajjis or a night show movie. Exam seasons were the most dreadful times to me, not because I had to read but because all my friends would be seriously preparing for the exams and I would be left alone with no company. Even if I go to their rooms they would shoo me because I would not let them study.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a good friend who used to hang out with me most of the times. She liked my company because she would have hearty laughs all the time she was with me. Slowly, I started getting attracted to her and the scenario changed, I started preferring her company. Everybody in my college believed that there was something going on between us. But actually there was nothing. 2 years passed and we were in our final semester. I became so restless that I wanted to let her know that I liked her (whatever!). So as usual one day we were having coffee in our mess room and I found it was the apt time to start the topic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After profusely sweating, I finally managed to tell her that I liked her (Gosh, I was feeling shy to use the word, love and I never knew a better way to propose). She stared at me for a moment and then burst out laughing. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Naveen, don’t play! Be serious in life!.”&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;She had thought that I was making fun of her as usual. Oops, what was I supposed to do? How could I prove that I was serious? I just smiled at her and turned my face away from hers. Till date she never understood that I proposed her. Oops, I have paid the price of being funny all times but have never managed to become really serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;PS:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; X, if you are reading this, just ignore this. I know it is too late now :)&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/17815799-113710242708466909?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113710242708466909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113710242708466909' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113710242708466909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113710242708466909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/be-serious-being-playful-and-funny-has.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113700402824136682</id><published>2006-01-11T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T11:27:08.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Brother.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Brother.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Brothers are cool!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Date:&lt;/strong&gt; January 7th 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Time:&lt;/strong&gt; 6:30 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Place:&lt;/strong&gt; Fashion Place Mall&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Characters:&lt;/strong&gt; My friend, his friend and Me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Situation:&lt;/strong&gt; My friend’s friend was returning back to India. He wanted to buy some gifts for his family and for himself. So my friend and I joined him in his shopping spree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Friend:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Why not buy some nice perfume for your sister?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;His Friend:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Sure. She would love me for that!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Friend:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Cool! come on let me show you something good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;em&gt;We two follow him in perfect silence&lt;/em&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Friend:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Ok, here we go. See this blue one? Check it out..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;His Friend:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Wow! This is amazing stuff. Jasmine perfume…though this seems to be pretty expensive, I’m gonna buy it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Friend:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Good choice man. See how many boys are gonna flock around your sis if she starts applying this!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;em&gt;I stared at my friend. Gosh! Why did you say that??&lt;/em&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;em&gt;His friend was startled for a moment ..of course, he would be!&lt;/em&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;His Friend:&lt;/strong&gt; Don’t ya think this is way too much expensive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Friend:&lt;/strong&gt; But you liked it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;His Friend:&lt;/strong&gt; I don’t think my sister will like perfumes, lets look for something else..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;em&gt;He leaves the place swiftly and we run to catch up with him&lt;/em&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We brothers are cool! Aren’t we?? We gift such romantic gifts to our girl friends but when it comes to our own sisters, we back track. Does this mean, we care about our sisters more than our girl friends? Huh? No Idea!!&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/17815799-113700402824136682?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113700402824136682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113700402824136682' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113700402824136682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113700402824136682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/brothers-are-cool-date-january-7th.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113683941562235958</id><published>2006-01-09T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-09T13:43:35.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/CellPhone.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/CellPhone.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Cell phones – A new cause of concern!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve always been pondering if the invention of the mobile phone is actually a boon or a bane to the human society. Though the cell phones have enabled the phrase, ‘Kar Lo Duniya Mutti Mein’, there are actually many flipsides to it. A couple of years back people made frivolous objections to the cell phones stating that the radio waves were detrimental to the brain cells. There are still researches going on in this direction to prove/disapprove this thesis. Even amidst these quibbles the number of cell phone users is growing day by day. I recently read a statistics that said nearly 99.8 % of people in Malaysia use mobile phones. 65 % (and still growing) of the Indians are cell phone subscribers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Given these state of affairs, an interesting &lt;a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/msid-1361497,curpg-1.cms"&gt;article&lt;/a&gt; caught my eyes today. According to this article, usage of mobile phones might hurt family relationships. This seems perfectly logical to me because I’ve been prone to this. My cell phone has made be so much accessible that I’ve got official calls at midnights and weekends. I’m sure many of you would empathize with me on this. This article also states that women are doubly impacted by the cell phone because they not only get official calls when they are not working but they also get calls about their family problems when they are out at work. This not only reduces their productivity but also becomes a cause for mental stresses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess it’s high time for us now to decide how we make use of the latest electronic gadgets. Are we going to rule technology or are we going to let it rule us? Sounds like the theme of a Steven Spielberg’s movie, huh?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113683941562235958?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113683941562235958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113683941562235958' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113683941562235958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113683941562235958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/cell-phones-new-cause-of-concern-ive.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113683924438085083</id><published>2006-01-09T13:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-09T13:40:44.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Life ho tho aisee!! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude, why do you seem to be so much uninterested? What else do you want bro?? :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/400/photo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113683924438085083?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113683924438085083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113683924438085083' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113683924438085083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113683924438085083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/life-ho-tho-aisee-dude-why-do-you-seem.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113656858819831243</id><published>2006-01-06T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T10:30:39.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Bandit Queen Outside and Cleopatra Inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Places that we visit are unique in their own. I was reading &lt;a href="http://vivantunevie.blogspot.com/2006/01/bus-chimp-part-2.html"&gt;Shikha’s ‘Bus Chimp – 2’&lt;/a&gt; post. It reminded me of an incident that took place when I was in Pune last year. My company has operations nearly in all the major cities in India. Last year, I got an opportunity to travel to the Pune office to conduct a training. The Pune office is located in Hinjewadi. Since there was only one direct flight (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;this is a misnomer, the flight has a &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/CoveredFaces.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/CoveredFaces.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;stoppage in Bangalore!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) to Pune from Chennai, I was booked in a Mumbai flight. They had arranged for a cab to take me from the Mumbai airport to Pune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we reached Pune, it was close to mid-day. I’ve heard that Pune is a beautiful city known for its pleasant weather and sweet girls (!). So the next day on my way to the office I was hoping to enjoy the pleasantries of the city. But to my dismay, I found that nearly all the girls who were driving 2 wheelers had covered their faces entirely. All I could see were their eyes (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and many of them were magnanimous enough to cover their eyes with sun glasses!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). I was wondering what could be the reason for this – Fashion? Eve teasing? – are girls trying to avoid the lecherous looks of men? I had no clue and decided to clarify this with my friends at the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was supposed to meet a manager at the office. But since he was scheduled to be in a meeting he had asked a girl from his team to help me. I would say Pune office looked sluggish when compared to the Chennai office in the mornings. This girl who was supposed to receive me hadn’t arrived till 9:30 AM and I had to wait for her in the lobby. Then she came, I thought it was &lt;em&gt;Benazir Bhutto&lt;/em&gt;! She was wearing a jeans trousers and a denim jacket. She had covered her face with what I thought was her duppatta. Then I realized, girls don’t wear duppattas with jeans :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She identified me and after the mutual greetings, she took me in to the office (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;her face was still covered!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). She showed me a seat near hers and helped me with the user id and the password to boot up the system. After every thing was set for me, she went to her seat and started taking off her facial paraphernalia. I was curious to see her face. She had Bandit Queen’s look outside and Cleopatra’s look inside. She smiled at me and after she was done with her chore, I saw a 22 or perhaps 23 year old girl in her. I could not help myself from asking her, why girls were covering their faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her answer was plain and simple – &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;protect their faces from pollution! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;If Pune is supposed to be polluted, what about Chennai?? I'm still wondering!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113656858819831243?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113656858819831243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113656858819831243' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113656858819831243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113656858819831243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/bandit-queen-outside-and-cleopatra.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113648568152280387</id><published>2006-01-05T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-05T11:28:01.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Tu Bin Bataye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;….this song from Rang De Basanti is currently running in loops in my playlist. Wow! What a fantastic song! The lyric is great - subtle and soothing. The tempo is amazing and Madhushree has maintained it throughout the song. There is no assemblage of too many instruments and that makes the song pleasant and sweet – a treat for people who adore easy-listening. Naresh Iyer who has given the male voice has done a marvelous job too. Kudos to A.R. Rehman. He makes a deadly combination with Aamir – Why not? Geniuses collaborate to produce some sensational results.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tu bin bataye mujhe le chal kaheen&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;jahan tu muskuraye meri manzil wahin &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hmm..sounds lovely and still lingers in my mind. I guess repeated hearing of this song would make a romantically challenged person like me to become a poet :)&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/17815799-113648568152280387?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113648568152280387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113648568152280387' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113648568152280387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113648568152280387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/tu-bin-bataye.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113640946056089957</id><published>2006-01-04T14:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T14:33:32.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Making faces outta words!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m answering the prayers of my very good friend &lt;a href="http://rickyunleashed.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ricky&lt;/a&gt;. He had been for quite a while pestering me to post a snap of mine. I was snubbing his request for a long time. Then, suddenly I started to ponder over the idea of visualizing the face of a person from his/her writings. Going back in to the past, we used to have a course called ‘Engineering Design’ in our B.Tech curriculum. It was one of the courses that I enjoyed doing the most. We would be required to draw the 2D side, top and the front views of a 3D object (generally a machine part) and the vice versa i.e. drawing the 3D image from the given side, top and front views. We had problems initially visualizing a 3D object but as we attended more classes, we became adept in doing so. I still try to rip apart objects in different views in my mind. It gives me a satisfaction that I remember something that I had learnt in my college days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming back to the subject, I’ve heard that the human brain is the best television. But I still cannot believe if it would be 100% possible to imagine the face of a person from his writings. But to some degree, I firmly believe that it is very much possible to visualize the lifestyle, the person’s way of dressing and his/her attitude towards life from the way he/she writes. But unless we compare the visualized image with reality, there is no way we could validate the accuracy of our visualization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Under the pretext of the emotional trauma that &lt;a href="http://rickyunleashed.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ricky&lt;/a&gt; should have undergone trying to visualize my face, I’m posting my picture below (&lt;em&gt;hey, Ricky - I'm just pulling your leg :)&lt;/em&gt;). Let’s see how many of you would have imagined such a face! I’ve always assumed that the cartoon in my profile resembled my actual countenance. Hope you guys concur with me too :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: I'm removing the snap..It's been long enough here :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113640946056089957?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113640946056089957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113640946056089957' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113640946056089957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113640946056089957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/making-faces-outta-words-im-answering.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113631396189832570</id><published>2006-01-03T11:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T11:46:01.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/DSC00693.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/DSC00693.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Of Excitements and Disappointments&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, all of you who have read my previous post would have known what I was doing for this New Year. The plan was grand and rapturous. Since we had very little time planning everything, we missed out to check out the mood of one important person, the Rain God. Gosh, southern California is supposed to be dry and warm. So we were lethargic and condoned to check the weather. We started off on time (30th, 6 PM) and reached LA earlier than we expected (31st, 5 AM). The hotel that we had booked did not allow us to do an early check-in. So we had to book another hotel for sleeping that morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, it all started one by one. It started raining cats and dogs in LA. We were barely able to get off the car. Imagine, how it would feel if you are not able to see anything in a place that you had visited with high hopes. We drove through Malibu and the drive was grotesque. I went agog when I saw the palatial houses built over the hillocks facing the Pacific Ocean. It’s a dream place to live-in and undoubtedly one of the costliest abodes in the whole earth. On the way, we saw a Hindu temple and decided to have a look at it. My friends had a good darshan and I had a good lunch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We returned back to check-in in the hotel that we had booked in earlier. To our dismay, we found that the place was wretched and run down. We were planning to go to a good club to enjoy the New Year party. As we were new to the place, we dint exactly know which club would be the best. So we decided to start off early and look out for the clubs. Adding to our woes, all the good clubs were booked for the night. We became a perfect case study for Murphy’s Law! But just to put a full stop to our cribbing, we ‘&lt;em&gt;sighted&lt;/em&gt;’ good chicks in party wears. Desi girls were predominant in the crowd. We were ogling at our ‘&lt;em&gt;very own&lt;/em&gt;’ girls clad in revealing wears. Wow, Indian damsels look like goddesses if they wear the right outfits. Then we had a very good dinner at a Thai restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad and disappointed with no place in a club, we decided to go to the beach to welcome the New Year somberly. The time was 11.40 PM and the countdown had already started for 2006. We reached the Redondo Beach at 11.50 PM and found out there were hardly two people apart from us. One lady was watching the ocean pensively and it was obvious from her looks that she was in no mood to party and was enjoying her solitude. Another one was taking her dog on a walk in the beach. So it was just five of us left in the beach to do whatever we wanted to greet the New Year. We just shouted “Happy New Year” on top of our voices and left the place with emptiness. We went to a liquor shop to get something to drink in our room and enjoy the New Year’s morning. Rum was the instant choice of my friends (they are connoisseurs of drinks!). We headed back to our ‘nice’ hotel room and my friends started enjoying their best thing of the day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/DSC00706.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/DSC00706.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The next morning was sunny and bright. I guess, the Gods wanted to show some mercy on the five poor souls. So we hurried up to the Huntington Beach which was 30 Mi away from LA. We had a nice time playing ball in the beach and taking some nice pictures! In all, we enjoyed the 3 hours that we spent on the beach. Had the rains still continued, our entire trip would have become meaningless. I played to my heart’s content in the beach. It had been more than 9 months since I’ve walked on the sandy shores of a beach! So it rejuvenated my spirits. We dropped off our initial plan to visit San Diego assuming that the weather would not be much different there. So we headed back and reached home at 4.30 AM on the 2nd. We were so tired that we slept till 12:00 PM. One of our friends was kind enough to treat us with lunch at their home. We had a great and sumptuous lunch. My body hasn’t yet coped up with the 1700 Mi drive and it is still begging for more rest. Here I’m sitting at my office trying to complete this post. But my brain goes off and on forcing me to take more than my usual time to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyways, it was a different kind of an experience altogether. We enjoyed each and everything that came on our way! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113631396189832570?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113631396189832570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113631396189832570' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113631396189832570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113631396189832570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2006/01/of-excitements-and-disappointments.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113589260993966173</id><published>2005-12-29T14:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T14:43:29.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/SanDiego.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/SanDiego.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;New Year by the Beach!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2005 dawned on me in the Besant Nagar beach, Chennai. Too many police men were deployed all over the place. They even asked us to breathe out to check if we were in high spirits! Given the fact that New Year revellers are known for drunken driving and other fun stuff, we were little surprised by these security measures. 2006 sunrise is not going to be very different either. We are driving to LA and San Diego tomorrow..Yay! We are planning to greet the New Year from the beautiful beaches of San Diego. I’m all excited because this is a last minute plan and I’m writing this post as soon as the plan got materialized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t think I would have time tomorrow to post anything. I would be busy with the last minute arrangements for the trip. So this is pretty much going to be my last post of the year. 2005 has been very good for me both in terms of my personal and professional life. I’m hoping 2006 would turn out even better!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, all ya guys have a happy and a prosperous New Year!! See you all next year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Auf wiedersehen!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113589260993966173?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113589260993966173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113589260993966173' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113589260993966173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113589260993966173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/new-year-by-beach-2005-dawned-on-me-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113579421994312612</id><published>2005-12-28T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T11:25:09.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;A good site!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I was surfing the internet to find out if I could find out something on personal growth. I found this site to be very good, it has comprehensive stuff related to personal growth, handling relationships, effective communication, leading a balanced life etc..Thought, you guys might also be interested in it, so I'm posting it here!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.coping.org/"&gt;http://www.coping.org/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113579421994312612?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113579421994312612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113579421994312612' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113579421994312612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113579421994312612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/good-site-today-i-was-surfing-internet.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113574120382501394</id><published>2005-12-27T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T20:40:03.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;I belong to Hufflepuff!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This time I've found an online quiz before &lt;a href="http://www.ritasays.blogspot.com"&gt;Rita&lt;/a&gt; did :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="FONT-SIZE: 8pt" align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thealmightyguru.com/reviews/harrypotter/docs/quiz-house.html"&gt;&lt;img title="Hufflepuff" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; WIDTH: 279px; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none; HEIGHT: 108px; height106px: " height="111" src="http://www.thealmightyguru.com/reviews/harrypotter/docs/quizzes/hp-Hufflepuff.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="FONT-SIZE: 8pt"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My in-depth results are:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="FONT-SIZE: 8pt"&gt;Hufflepuff - 13&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="FONT-SIZE: 8pt"&gt;Ravenclaw - 12&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="FONT-SIZE: 8pt"&gt;Gryffindor - 11&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="FONT-SIZE: 8pt"&gt;Slytherin - 7&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="FONT-SIZE: 8pt"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thealmightyguru.com/reviews/harrypotter/docs/quiz-house.html"&gt;Which Hogwarts house will you be sorted into?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113574120382501394?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113574120382501394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113574120382501394' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113574120382501394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113574120382501394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-belong-to-hufflepuff-this-time-ive.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113570950750658673</id><published>2005-12-27T11:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T11:54:11.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;From Casablanca to Munich&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It has been a weekend of movies for me. I watched the 1942 – Casablanca and the 2005 – Munich, an old and a new movie. Both of them were great in in their own accord. I had tried in vain to get hold of Casablanca when I was in Chennai. The moment I saw it here, I was ecstatic to the core. I’ve virtually seen all the movies &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/200px-Casablanca(1).4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/200px-Casablanca%281%29.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;pertaining to WW I and WW II. Casablanca was evading me for long and now it has been added to my list as well. The movie is about Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) who could help his ex-love, Ilse Lund (Ingrid Bergman) and her husband, Victor Laszlo (Paul Heinreid) escape from the clutches of the Nazis. But he detests Ilse because he feels she had ditched him for the sake of Victor and so he is reluctant to help them. The story thus revolves around the conflicts between Rick’s love and his virtue. The movie has some strong sentimental dialogues and some powerful political insinuations. In all, it is a great movie and has sure lived up to all the hype that has been surrounding it since the day it was released.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steven Spielberg – The name needs no introduction. Munich is his latest venture. &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/200px-Munich_1_Poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/200px-Munich_1_Poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The movie is based on the 1972 Munich massacre in which 11 Israeli athletes were murdered by the Palestinian rebels. Spielberg calls this movie a, “Historical Fiction” because his movie is based on the rumours that spread after the Munich incident that the then Prime Minister of Israel, Ms. Golda Meir had ordered the Israeli secret service agency, the Mossad to track down and decimate all the Black September (a unit of Palestinian fedayeen) terrorists who were behind the massacre. Protagonist Avner (Eric Bana) is the Mossad agent who leads a team of four, including the latest 007, Daniel Craig in this high profile mission. They have to locate 11 high profile PLO rebels and slay them. The story revolves around this. They travel all across Europe to track the rebels. Spielberg has not taken any side in this movie. He is neither in the side of the Israelis nor in the sides of the Palestinians. He portrays this succinctly in the climax when Avner understands that blood is not the solution for blood. After the disappointing movie, War of the Worlds, Spielberg has bounced back with the ‘must watch’ movie, ‘Munich’. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113570950750658673?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113570950750658673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113570950750658673' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113570950750658673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113570950750658673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/from-casablanca-to-munich-it-has-been.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113537137390471891</id><published>2005-12-23T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T13:56:13.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Park.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Park.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Operation Majnu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian Police have started acting like Big Brothers off late. A couple of months back, a hotel in Chennai was stripped of its license to run the bar because of a dance party that was happening there. Many young couples were noticed drinking and making merry. I don’t want to comment on what was happening inside. But the way the police and the media handled the situation was mean. Posters of couples dancing and drinking were splashed all over the TVs and newspapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chennai incident is not the only one in which the police have shown their ugly faces. A couple of days back another such demean incident has taken place in Meerut. It is being code named as ‘Operation Majnu’, aimed at safeguarding innocent girls from lecherous men. Young boys and girls who were sitting in one of the city’s most popular parks have been roughed up by the police. Though many saffron groups including the Bajrang Dal and the VHP have backed up the police, it is a very disgraceful act by the police.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we speak about morality and discipline, is there not something also called as privacy? It is the parent’s duty to bring up their children and prevent them from falling in to decadence. It is certainly not the job of the police to look after people’s morality. Though there could have been some people who were using the park for amoral activities, there could also have been genuine cases that would have used the area for valid reasons. Now because of this incident, they also would have been shabbily treated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Police should not bring in fanaticism in their job. They could have achieved the same cause by some other diplomatic means. They could have inquired the couples politely and if they were found to be guilty, they could have arrested them and could have handled the situation legally. But for certain, this is not the way to handle such situations. This is just going to backfire on the police department and people are never going to understand that the police are ‘their friends’. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113537137390471891?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113537137390471891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113537137390471891' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113537137390471891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113537137390471891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/operation-majnu-indian-police-have.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113527417985591470</id><published>2005-12-22T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-22T10:59:49.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Missing Christmas&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/ChristmasMiss.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I’m going to miss all the fun this time. I can feel it after reading &lt;a href="http://lifesforwards.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-am-going-home-tomorrow.html"&gt;Ms. Rambling’s&lt;/a&gt; post. This is the first Christmas that I’m not home. It would be so much fun at home during this season. In the past, I would generally reach home on the 24th and would sleep the entire day. In the eve of Christmas, mom would start winding up her last minute preparation of the sweets and cakes. I would sit in the portico and watch my sister having fun with the crackers. I had lost my interest in crackers when I was in my 12th grade but my sister still loves them. Our neighborhood has a lot of Christians and so the whole area would be lit up with stars and Christmas trees. Adding to the beauty are the colors of the flower pots and the chakkars. The din caused by the crackers would lend a classy touch to the festivities. My dad would be asking me to fire some crackers with my sister. I would be having a hard time persuading him that I was not really into them. But it would be fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fero (our dog) hated the loud bursts of the crackers and would keep on barking. Poor soul, he would never understood that the noise was harmless. My sister used to decorate our house. She is so much adept in making things look good and colorful. The entire house would be glowing with multi-colored lamps. And the Christmas tree sitting up in portico would be brimming with pride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Christmas morning would start early at around 3.45 AM. The service at the church used to start at 4.00 AM and mom would have a hard time waking us up and getting us ready for the mass. I hated going out at that time of December. It would be so cold. I had to literally fight with mom to make her permit us to take the car to church. She would always want to go in the bikes. We have 2 bikes. Mom would want me to take her in my bike and would ask dad to take my sister with him in his bike. For some reason, she never wanted to go in the car to the church. May be, because the church was very close and she thought just the bikes would do. But for the past couple of years, I did not have to persuade mom hard for the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The service would complete at 6.30 AM and I would be waiting to go my bed again. My mom would allow me to sleep till 7.30 AM and then the real Christmas would start. I used to go to all our friend’s and neighbour’s places with sweets. It would be fun. In the meantime my sister would have again started her cracking fun, I mean, bursting crackers! She would invite all the kids from the neighbourhood and would be having a great time with them. Though I used to hate this initially, I had started to accept the kids lately. Just for a simple reason of not wanting to disappoint my sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We would be having a great lunch. Mutton Biryani, Chicken Kurma, payasam and what not?! Hmmm, my mouth is watering as I write these! By now, it would have been 3:00PM. Generally I travel back to Chennai (for my college or later work) on the same day. My bus would be at 6:30 PM. My mom, dad and sister would come to see me off. The wonderful time would have gone off in a jiffy!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know my mom would be missing me this time. I could have planned my vacations properly, so that I would have been at home this time. What a poor planner I’m? But anyways, all you have a merry Christmas and a prosperous 2006!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113527417985591470?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113527417985591470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113527417985591470' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113527417985591470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113527417985591470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/missing-christmas-im-going-to-miss-all.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113519885477885735</id><published>2005-12-21T13:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T14:00:54.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Balancing in Life!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think this is going to be another one of my philosophical posts, you are wrong! The title is just sarcastic. Two movies that I saw in the last couple of days tempted me to write this post. Those of you that do not see Tamil movies, you probably might not be able to get 100 % out of this post. But let me try to be more explanatory to you too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaru (meaning, the number ‘6’ in Tamil) and Thavamaai Thavamirunthu (meaning, after a great penance, like Tapasya in Hindi) are the two movies that I watched. Now let me review them one by one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Warning:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Spoilers below!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Aaru &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Aaru.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/Aaru.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starring Surya and Trisha – this movie has been directed by Hari – He is the one who directed the super hit movie ‘Saamy’. I obliged my friends’ requests to watch this movie for 2 reasons – Surya and Hari. For those of you who are not familiar with Surya, here is a brief description about him. Surya is the latest heart-throb of the Tamil cinema industry. He is known for his great acting and his brawny looks. He has acted in some fantastic movies like ‘Kaakha Kaakha’ and ‘Gajhini’. He is an actor with a great potential. Most of his recent movies have been blockbusters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now coming to the movie (henceforth denoted as 6!), 6 is a disaster. It is just another one of those typical ‘masala’ movies directed merely for commercial reasons. The story is mediocre. Surya is a thug who works for the villains, not knowing they are villains! His name is Arumugam and the abridged version is Aaru. Trisha is a smart girl who falls in love for him. You might wonder, then how could she be called smart? Now, that’s a million dollar question. She says, she likes him for his ferocious stunts. A bad reason to fall in love, at least I feel so. But I have heard people saying love is blind. So lets grant amnesty to her role. The villains use Surya for eradicating their political enemies. But our hero has an emotional attachment with the Villain’s sister. Don’t jump in to conclusions. Trisha is not the one. So he doesn’t know their intentions till the point when they kill his friends for a filthy political cause. The story is how he avenges his friends’ death. The music is very poor and there isn’t a single number that can be called OK. In all, the movie is a total failure. It kept me guessing why on earth did Surya sign up for it? Well, he needs to be a little cautious while choosing his films.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Thavam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 111px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 101px" height="107" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/400/Thavam.jpg" width="111" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thavamaai Thavamirunthu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starring Cheran and Padmapriya – This movie has been directed by Cheran himself. Cheran is the one who gave the huge blockbuster of 2004 – Autograph. He has lived up to the expectations in this movie. The story is family oriented and has taken in to account the anecdotes that happen in our day to day lives. It is all about a father who raises his two sons among all his poverty. He works hard to educate them. The later part of the movie elucidates how the sons treat him in return. Cheran plays the role of the younger son Ramalingam and the elder son is Ramanathan. Rajkiran plays the father role. He runs a printing press which only serves him to take care of the basic needs of his family. But with good will that his sons should not endure what he is going through in his life, he takes heavy loans to educate them. The elder one gets a polytechnic degree and the younger one gets an engineering degree. The elder one gets a job in a mill and is getting married. His wife doesn’t like him repaying all his father’s loans, so she pesters him and separates him from his family. This comes as a mighty blow to the father. Cheran (the younger son) who is in college falls in love with his classmate Padmapriya. There comes a situation in their lives, when they have sex. She becomes pregnant and Cheran doesn’t have the guts to tell this to his father. So they both elope to Chennai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They suffer in Chennai without a job. In the meantime, Padmapriya gives birth to a girl. Knowing this from one of Cheran’s college friends, his father comes to meet them. Cheran pleads guilty and asks for pardon. They decide to live with their families again. Now, Cheran and Padmapriya get jobs in Chennai and they become well off. They bring Cheran’s father and mother to stay with them and want to keep them happy till the end of their days. After a few years of happiness, his mother dies off peacefully. His father wants to go back to his village and live alone for sometime. In the meantime, the elder son who is not economically settled in his life, comes to his father and asks him to give the house to him. He blames his father for making him a diploma holder while making his brother an Engineer. He accuses his father for being partial.The old man is heart broken on hearing this and he dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end, Cheran assures to help his brother and they decide to keep their father’s house as his memorabilia. They feel sorry for their misgivings in life and they understand what their father had done to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the story might not seem to be superior, it is the screen play that steals the show. The actors have lived as the characters. The background music is phenomenal. I’m sure everyone who can empathize with this story would shed a drop of tear in a few scenes. This movie has been targeted to people who leave their parents suffering for their selfish reasons. But for everyone, this movie is worth watching.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you must have understood the meaning of my title. I watched a horrible movie and it’s effect was balanced by another very good movie! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113519885477885735?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113519885477885735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113519885477885735' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113519885477885735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113519885477885735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/balancing-in-life-if-you-think-this-is.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113510343340650870</id><published>2005-12-20T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-20T11:34:40.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/winter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/winter.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;A cold winter morning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The alarm goes off. I look at the time – 7:00 AM. I know it is time to get up but I decide another 5 minutes of sleep wouldn’t be that detrimental. So I return back to the place where I left. I’m holding her hands tight and we are walking in the side walks covered with snow. Each and everytime her legs slip in the snow, I hold her harder. The warmth of her palms assauges the pain caused by the snow. Slyly, inside my heart, I pray for her legs to slither. She looks into my eyes mischeviously everytime she stumbles. We walk across the road side park. All the trees look stark naked without a single leaf. White patches of snow hang here and there in the barren branches of the trees. We see a wooden bench half covered with snow. I look at her and she cannot hide her smile. We walk towards the bench. Thud! Ohh, “what was that ?”. I open my eyes only to see my messed up bedroom. No signs of the wooden bench and no trace of her. Gosh, another dream!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at the clock and oh! my God – It is 8.20 AM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate who was sleeping in the other room had woken up suddenly and had run to the bathroom, ending up with the thud. I had to be at the office at 8:00 AM. What shall I do? I ran to the bathroom, did everything for the formality sake, pulled on my sweat shirt, tying my shoe laces with one hand, I snatched my jacket from the coat hanger and dashed off in the snow towards the office. What a royal messup?!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I’m just not the only one suffering from over sleeping. It is hard to generate the will power to getup from the bed when we are cozyly snuggling inside the warmth of a comforter on a snowy, winter morning! My guilty feeling left me when one of my co-workers told me that she faced similar problems in the mornings. It is always soothing to have an accomplice!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113510343340650870?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113510343340650870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113510343340650870' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113510343340650870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113510343340650870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/cold-winter-morning-alarm-goes-off.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113501229789083295</id><published>2005-12-19T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T10:44:53.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Pra.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Pra.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Our Existence - ??&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It is appalling to read &lt;a href="http://ia.rediff.com/money/2005/dec/19msg.htm?q=bp&amp;file=.htm"&gt;such news&lt;/a&gt;. A 24 year old working girl has been raped and brutally murdered. This incident makes me cringe. Is this the other side of the coin? When we boast that our IT and the BPO industry is booming, do we ever think of such fallouts? The government brags of the infrastructure and the economic subsidies that it lends to foster such IT and BPO companies. But, Is it not an important duty of the government to protect its citizens? The companies also seem to be derelict of their duties. Is it enough if they just provide transportation facilities to their employees? Is that really all? I know, it is not feasible to provide z-class security to their employees, but can’t they not frame some flawless and stringent security policies? Hire cab services who have a good reputation in the travel industry, never allow a girl to go alone in a cab at nights - send them in groups, never encourage the employees to leave in the wee hours of night and the likes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this would be the first and the last incident of this kind. The floods and the stampede in Chennai and now this one in Bangalore, makes me really feel, we are crossing a bad patch of our times. It seems that we need to be extra cautious or our survival would become questionable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Photo Courtesy - &lt;a href="http://www.ndtv.com"&gt;NDTV&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113501229789083295?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113501229789083295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113501229789083295' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113501229789083295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113501229789083295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/our-existence-it-is-appalling-to-read.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113500896818276097</id><published>2005-12-19T09:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T09:16:08.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Just for Fun!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Equation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Glance = 1 Smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Smile = 1 Meeting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Meeting = 1 Kiss&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Kisses = 1 Proposal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Proposal = 1 Marriage -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that 1 Bloody marriage has 77777 problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So beware of glance!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;Plan For Future:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teacher asks children, what do u wish 2 do in future?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ram: I want 2 be a pilot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vinod: I want 2 be a doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deepa: I want 2 be a good mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ravi: I want 2 help Deepa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;Exams:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exams are like GIRL FRIENDS;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1,Too Many Questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2,Difficult to Understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3,More Explanation is Needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4,Result is always FAIL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;Liar:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man is dying of Cancer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His son asked him, "Dad, why do you keep telling people you are dying of AIDS?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer: "So when I'm dead no one will dare touch your mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;Delivered:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sardar sent a SMS to his pregnant wife. Two seconds later a report came to his phone and he started dancing. The report said, "DELIVERED".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;Three Feelings:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the difference between stress, tension and panic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stress is when wife is pregnant,&lt;br /&gt;Tension is when girlfriend is pregnant, and&lt;br /&gt;Panic is when both are pregnant.&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/17815799-113500896818276097?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113500896818276097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113500896818276097' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113500896818276097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113500896818276097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/just-for-fun-equation-7-glance-1-smile.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113475936302922781</id><published>2005-12-16T11:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T11:56:03.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Happy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Happy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Cornucopia of Joy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has given me so many great days to cherish. Yesterday and today are a couple of them. I was feeling a little dejected few days back. Hypengyophobia (&lt;em&gt;Fear of responsibilities&lt;/em&gt;) induced by geroscophobia (&lt;em&gt;Fear of growing old&lt;/em&gt;) could be the ratiocination of my pensiveness. And today is the D- Day, actually my B-Day, the day that was responsible for the eruption of the above listed phobias! But yesterday (&lt;em&gt;my B’day in India&lt;/em&gt;) and today (&lt;em&gt;my B’day in the States&lt;/em&gt;) have been so good that all my bugaboos have been wiped off from the face of earth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The joyous moments in chronological order,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My mom and dad called me up first at 11:45 PM yesterday to wish me!&lt;br /&gt;2. Then my sweet sister called me up to convey her wishes!&lt;br /&gt;3. My friends here had arranged for a party at 12:00 AM midnight!&lt;br /&gt;4. After the cake cutting part, came the most joyous moment of the day. One of my friends had been to India in October on his vacation. My sister had given him a package and had asked him to give that to me as a surprise on my B’day party. I never knew about this and when he handed it over to me yesterday, I was so much elated that I cannot explain my feelings here in words! It had a beautiful Van Heusen shirt and a Levis jean. My favourite brands in my favourite colors! Whoa, my sister is very adorable!&lt;br /&gt;5. The B’day card that my friends gave me was very cute and sweet!&lt;br /&gt;6. At 12:30 AM, my best friends A and J called up to wish me!&lt;br /&gt;7. While I was on the line with them, one of my other great friend R was trying in vain to reach me and had left me a voice mail wish in frustration!&lt;br /&gt;8. Today morning at 6:30 AM, S called up to wish me and wake me up!&lt;br /&gt;9. As soon as I entered my office at 8.45 AM, A called up and unfortunately the signal was so weak that I could not speak to him properly :(&lt;br /&gt;10. When I opened my mail box, I was shocked to see it flooded with wishes from my collegues in the US and India.&lt;br /&gt;11. Out of the umpteen mails, the mail from D is very special because it has been close to a year now since I spoke to her. She was (and still is!) one of my best friends at college!&lt;br /&gt;12. We have great plans for the evening, dinner at a good restaurant and may be a movie, if time and weather permit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are exactly the reasons why I love B’days!! I’m very thankful to God for making my days filled with joy and happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113475936302922781?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113475936302922781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113475936302922781' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113475936302922781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113475936302922781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/cornucopia-of-joy-life-has-given-me-so.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113466964793875477</id><published>2005-12-15T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T11:00:48.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Suggest.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Suggest.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;To the Alma Mater – &lt;em&gt;With Love&lt;/em&gt;!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One can never deny the fact that the school/college that he/she attended has played a vital role in what he/she has become in life today. But not many of us give a thought about this. There are cases where people never even thing about their colleges after they pass out. Is this the way to pay back for whatever we have got from our Alma Mater? One of my college’s alumni donated Rs. 1 Crore for building a research laboratory. Another senior of mine requited by instrumenting an award for the best out-going student every year. These are just a few examples. I myself have received 8 awards instrumented by the alumni of my department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m writing this post after reading &lt;a href="http://ia.rediff.com/news/2005/dec/15suman.htm?q=np&amp;amp;file=.htm"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; article. Mr. Victor Menezes, an alumni of the IIT – Bombay has donated $1.5 Million to his Alma Mater. In all he has pledged $3 Million to the institute. I liked his quote, “IIT gave me priceless education – and this is a small way to say thank you”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since all of us are beholden to the institutions that educated us, this is an ingenuous way of paying back. And more importantly such acts would improve the quality of education in India. We can provide world class infrastructure in our educational institutions with this lucre, there by producing a number of Intellects. Whats your say on this?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113466964793875477?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113466964793875477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113466964793875477' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113466964793875477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113466964793875477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/to-alma-mater-with-love-one-can-never.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113458883029112158</id><published>2005-12-14T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T14:00:39.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Phone.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Phone.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;A Couple of Calls and a Couple of Days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh true! A couple of calls and a couple of days would be enough to remind me that time is elapsing quickly. Yesterday I made 2 phone calls and the gist of the conversations follows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Call #1 - To my friend:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hey man, no calls for a long time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He: Sorry bro, I was held up with something important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: You kidding? What could be those important stuff?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He: (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Blushing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) You know what? I’m getting married!! (&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I could see all his teeth over the phone!&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hey, are you teasing? Come on lets get serious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He: No Naveen, I’m serious, my parents had seen this girl for me and were just waiting for me to get back to India. And now since I’m back, yesterday, we went to the girl’s house, had some talk and the marriage is fixed to be held on June 8th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: God! Whats the hurry man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He: I’m not a kid as you are! I’m 27 now and I feel this is the right time to marry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Dude, I’m no kid. Ok? I’m 24 riding on 25!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He: Oops, I can never imagine you to be 24! (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I could hear him chuckling!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) By the way, when are you planning to come back to India?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Oops, Am I getting old too!!??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) mmm..? I don’t know as of now! But I sure would like to attend your marriage. But lets see!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He: …&lt;br /&gt;Me: …&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;We chatted about few other things before I held up, but before that he had insinuated that I was getting old!&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Call #2 - To my Sis:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hey S, how are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She: Hey Naveen, I’m fine and what stopped you from calling me all this long?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: mmm…(&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;should frame something ASAP!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)..work..yeah, I had lots of work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She: Ok..whatever..I have lots of work too..appraisals are around the corner and I’m expecting a promotion this year..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;My sister is 2 years younger to me and she works for a big MNC in India. She joined the company last year. Whenever I think of her, I see her as a small kid and now when she told me this, I was surprised to see how 1 year had passed so swiftly!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well, Good ..best of luck!&lt;br /&gt;She: …&lt;br /&gt;Me: … &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/25.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/25.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In a couple of days:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, its time for me to change something in my profile. Not the pic this time but my age! Yay! I’ll be 25 in 2 days! I feel happy and sad at the same time. I’m happy because for me a birthday means lots of gifts and parties!! But on the other hand, I’m unhappy because I’m getting old. I’m sure my fun-filled, care-free life would soon be turning up in to a responsibility loaded one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Can’t time wait for some more time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&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/17815799-113458883029112158?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113458883029112158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113458883029112158' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113458883029112158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113458883029112158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/couple-of-calls-and-couple-of-days-ohh.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113449582294780571</id><published>2005-12-13T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T10:47:25.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Ladies and Gentlemen...now presenting Indian Democracy!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/400/Sucks.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How could our politicians be so mean? We work hard and earn for our lives, more than that we stand in the sun and rain on the election day to vote for our representatives. And these guys, went to the parliament all these days to sleep and now they have started demanding our hard earned money to open their bloody mouths there! Well, we elected them and now we are paying for it. What on earth is this? God damned Democracy?? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Photo courtesy - &lt;a href="http://www.hindu.com"&gt;The Hindu&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113449582294780571?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113449582294780571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113449582294780571' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113449582294780571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113449582294780571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/ladies-and-gentlemen.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113440902494802098</id><published>2005-12-12T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-12T13:35:58.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/dance.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/dance.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Two days and Two lessons!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well, everyone walks out of work on a Friday with an excitement about the forth-coming weekend. I’m no exception to this. This weekend started with the same feeling but turned out to be quite different from others. It gave me mixed feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;#Friday Night&lt;/strong&gt; – For the first time in my life and after my 10 months of stay in the US, I went to a strip club. It was not that I was desperate to go there but my friends had planned for it and I did not want to play the spoil sport.I know, in winter people do not prefer to indulge in outdoor activities like hiking and horse riding but instead they flock these kind of bars. So I was not surprised to see that the place was crowded when we entered. It was exciting to watch the naked girls dancing for the first few minutes. But I started feeling bored after that. My friends were enjoying a game of pool and were getting drunk. But since I do not booze, I felt left alone and was getting bored to death. Then, I started observing the dancers. Though they seemed to be smiling, I could sense an irritation in their eyes. There were men and women seated around them, waving dollar bills and enjoying the dance amorously. The dance was more like circus, the dancers were dancing on a pole and were flexing like rubber. I could feel the physical pain they were enduring. I just wanted to know how they felt for doing such a job. There were bouncers all over the place preventing people from approaching the dancers. So there was no way I could reach a dancer. So I decided to speak to a bar tender. She was very pretty and should not be aging more than 20 years. I ordered a Coke for me and started a dialogue with her. She told me that she aspired to become an actress oneday and she was saving money by working in the bar. She exuded her wrath towards the people who thronged the place. I was shocked when she told me this, “Just because they have money, they cannot buy us”. I asked a question to myself, Are we not to be blamed for encouraging such abominable things in the society, be it developed or developing? I’ve decided never to go to such places again where people are treated like animals just for a fist full of dollars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;#Saturday Afternoon&lt;/strong&gt; – Got hold of the ‘Salaam Namaste’ DVD after a long hunt. It was a nice movie but meant only for sheer entertainment. We should not be taking anything out of it. The concept of “living together” is debatable and the opinion about it differs from person to person. But personally, I’m not for it especially in a society like ours’. Its fine if the girl and boy live together for sometime and then they get married. But just think the other way. What will happen if they decided to break? Are there enough men in the society who are ready to accept this girl who has ‘lived’ with another guy or are there enough magnanimous women who can accept this guy after this? I don’t think so. I have seen cases where people love someone and are forced to marry someone else. I can understand how they feel hurt. If just love can bring this unhappiness, would ‘living together’ not bring more if not less?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the lessons that this weekend taught me,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Don’t encourage flesh trade in the society&lt;br /&gt;2. Don’t try to be too much radical in life and bring unhappiness at the end!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113440902494802098?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113440902494802098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113440902494802098' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113440902494802098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113440902494802098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/two-days-and-two-lessonswell-everyone.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113414681848946132</id><published>2005-12-09T09:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T09:46:58.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Friday Freak!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm turning out to be a Friday freak, apparently for no reasons! I have a meeting in another 10 minutes and I dont want to be late for that. I just wanted to post something before I left for the weekend, again apparently with no sense :). All you have a great weekend and if you have already come back to work after the weekend, I hope you had another great weekend!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113414681848946132?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113414681848946132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113414681848946132' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113414681848946132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113414681848946132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/friday-freak-im-turning-out-to-be.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113407725761282251</id><published>2005-12-08T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T15:26:59.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/MyCollege.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/MyCollege.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Those were the best days of my life!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The heading might sound as if I'm going to review Bryan Adam's Summer of '69! But in fact, I'm posting the reminiscences of the best days of my life. 1998 - 2002 was the eon that enveloped most of my cherishable days. I was at college then. My college is one of the best colleges and if somebody asked me where I was studying, I was elated to divulge it's name. No wonder my mates shared the same feeling as I did. Now trying to be pertinent to the post, I'm listing down the best things that happened to me during that golden era (exaggerated !!),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;My first hostel life&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - Wow man, what a life? We called our hostel &lt;em&gt;'Home away from Home'&lt;/em&gt;. Guys from all across the country were there. The only commonality in the beginning was that all of us had a 1, 2 0r a 3 digit overall TNPCEE rank. The first day of my hostel life flew by just asking each other about their cut-off marks and their ranks(even before asking the names!). Only later in life we understood that just not education and marks that maketh a man. But, we were young then, so pardonable :). The college was celebrating its 50th anniversary when we joined. The alumni list made us quiver with an unexplainable sensation. The hostel was always throbbing with life. The first few nights were thrilling. Every night someone would be ragged by the seniors and they would narrate their experiences to us. Everybody would be shivering not knowing when their turns would be. Some questions that were asked to us during ragging sessions were too much intellectual in the fields ranging from &lt;em&gt;Rocket Science&lt;/em&gt; to &lt;em&gt;S**.&lt;/em&gt; Man, we were having the time of our lives! The food in the mess was excellent and I have never heard anybody cribbing about it (But ofcourse we hated the breakfasts!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. &lt;u&gt;My first best friends list&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - I studied in seven different schools in seven different places and so I dint get good opportunities to make good best friends at school. But my hostel life gave me a good arena to pick and choose the best guys and make them my best friends. &lt;em&gt;AK, SP, RP, RS, Ms. D, Ms. J, Ms. SS&lt;/em&gt; and the list is endless. I cannot rate anybody whom I met after college better than these guys. They are the BEST!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;My first movie in a theatre&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - My mom never liked (likes!) me watching movies. So I have never been to a theatre in my school days. It was in my first semester at college that I went to a theatre (Devi theatre, Chennai) to watch a movie!! It was a different experience because all my friends who came with me that day explained me how to take a ticket in a theatre and kind of stuff (weird !) but it was fun. I cherish that experience till date.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. &lt;u&gt;My first computer class&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - When I touched the computer for the first time in the lab, something bode me that I was going to dwell in it for life.Hmm..how true that was! Most of my mates were from the computer science group in school, so they didnt have much of an issue with the idiot box. But, I tell you, I had to really struggle to make the head and tail out of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. &lt;u&gt;My first job&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - Final year rocked! It was placement time, being one of the toppers in the class, I was pretty much sure that I would make it in one or the other company. I had a good GRE and a GMAT score and so I was basically care free at that point in time. All we had to do was to wait till 4.00 PM for the classes to end and break to the mess for a cup of coffee and instantaneously decide on what to do in the evening. We did all freaking things, like walking on the railway tracks(balancing on the track is fun!) , going to the airport and sitting there watching planes land and takeoff wondering when we would be getting a chance to board one and all kind of immature things! I never wanted to join a software company. I used to make fun of my seniors who joined such companies. But when it was my turn, I literally had no options other than attending the interview of the company that I'm working for now. I got through my first interview with ease. It dint even last for 7 minutes! So I had a job in my seventh semester. If you think 7th was fun, hold on, 8th was much more fun. All I had to do was to attend classes for 8 credits (Out of which 4 was for my project) and enjoy the remaining time..Yay!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now it seems everything happened in a jiffy. Huh! see, I'm sitting here and dreaming about my past. Looks like 4 years passed away in 4 minutes. But I'm sure, I would be carrying all these moments till I die!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113407725761282251?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113407725761282251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113407725761282251' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113407725761282251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113407725761282251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/those-were-best-days-of-my-life.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113397552512706722</id><published>2005-12-07T09:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T10:12:05.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/CarSki.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/CarSki.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Car Skiing :)&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Yesterday, the snow was very heavy. The roads were covered with snow - ankle high. They appeared to be covered by clean white impeccable blankets and looked perfectly as skiing tracks. The traffic was very slow and was moving at snail's pace. We were feeling bored because there was not nothing much to do indoors. So we decided to brave the snow. The car that I drive here is a sedan and it is not equipped with a 4X4 drive. It is certainly not the type meant to be driven on such snowy conditions. But we decided to go for it for thrill sake. The moment I pulled the car outside the garage, I could feel the wheels slipping. Gosh, I knew it was not going to be good. But my friends insisted that we should drive atleast 5 Miles in such conditions. The reason they gave me was funny - snow assessment! The moment I came out of the apartment complex and hit the road, I felt that the wheels were slipping so much, that there was no traction with the road. We drove at 25 MPH (my lowest speed on those roads till date!) slipping and skidding. It was more like skiing than driving. Somehow, we managed to come home. Everybody was silent for the first few minutes because we were dumbstruck by the adventure and the numbness caused by the snow! In all, it was fun ! yay!! I dint tell this to my mom, I know she would be very much worried. And hey, you guys don't tell this to her too..:) Ok?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;PS: &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;The car in the pic is not mine :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113397552512706722?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113397552512706722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113397552512706722' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113397552512706722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113397552512706722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/car-skiing-yesterday-snow-was-very_07.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113389299386380881</id><published>2005-12-06T11:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T11:16:35.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Swarming -- The Next Face of Battle&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In my free times, I have the habit of reading about the latest warfare strategies and the advances in the weapon systems. It is one area where technology is being relentlessly employed. As I was surfing the net, I came across this article. It is fascinating to know that 'swarming' which is said to be the next face of battle has been developed after observing the characteristic of ants! Here is an excerpt from one of the related articles,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;By John Arquilla and David Ronfeldt&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/320/swarm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This opinion article appeared in the Aviation Week &amp; Space Technology on September 29, 2003.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technological advances often give rise to new types of weapons, but the achievement of lasting breakthroughs in fighting power requires organizational and doctrinal innovation as well. Invention of the internal combustion engine more than a century ago, for example, led to the tank and airplane. Yet these weapons systems did not realize their potential until the 1930s, when the Germans concentrated their armor into panzer divisions and articulated a blitzkrieg doctrine that tightly coupled maneuver forces on the ground with attack aircraft above. Today, the U.S. military is fielding awesome new technologies, but it is still far from figuring out the right organizational structures and doctrines for best applying them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Advanced information technologies have revolutionized U.S. forces' abilities to communicate swiftly, monitor enemy movements in real-time, operate vehicles remotely -- on land, at sea, or in the air -- and guide weapons in a way that effectively decouples range from accuracy. Yet, only modest attempts at organizational and doctrinal innovation have been tried.&lt;br /&gt;The U.S. Air Force is experimenting organizationally by creating "composite" wings and tailored "air expeditionary forces" that mix different types of air platforms in the same tactical combat units. A concomitant new doctrinal emphasis on supporting advanced ground operations is bringing modern air power tantalizingly close, after so many decades, to realizing its fullest war-winning potential. The Marines have also engaged in field exercises in which the units of maneuver have been radically altered by creating autonomous units as small as eight-man squads. The Marines (not to mention special operations forces) understand that connectivity coupled with air mastery greatly empowers even the smallest combat formations.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the most part, though, the bulk of the U.S. military is still wedded to heavy ground divisions and aircraft carrier battle groups. Almost all the technological changes of the past two decades have been folded into the Pentagon's existing understanding of war, summed up in the doctrine of "AirLand Battle." This concept of operations -- originally intended for use against Russian forces if the Cold War ever got hot -- is but a small upgrade to the aforementioned World War II-era blitzkrieg doctrine. Indeed, Norman Schwarzkopf's "left hook" in the Iraqi desert in 1991 was a virtual clone of Erwin Rommel's panzer sweeps across the North African desert in 1941.&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, the world keeps moving into the age of networks. Networking means much the same for the military as it does in business and social-activist settings, not to mention among information-age terrorists and criminals: monitoring the environment more broadly with highly sophisticated sensors; expanding lateral information flows; forming and deploying small, agile, specialized teams; and devolving much (but not all) command authority downward. But it also has a doctrinal implication that these other types of actors are learning faster than the U.S. military: It's a good idea to become adept at "swarming." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Swarming is a seemingly amorphous but carefully structured, coordinated way to strike from all directions at a particular point or points, by means of a sustainable "pulsing" of force and/or fire, close-in as well as from stand-off positions. It will work best -- perhaps it will only work -- if it is designed mainly around the deployment of myriad small, dispersed, networked maneuver units. The aim is to coalesce rapidly and stealthily on a target, attack it, then dissever and redisperse, immediately ready to recombine for a new pulse. Unlike previous military practice, battle management is now mainly about "command and decontrol," as networked units all over the field of battle (or business, or activism, or terror and crime) coordinate and strike the adversary in fluid, flexible, nonlinear ways. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Early examples of swarming appeared with the great mounted armies of the 7th century Muslims and the 13th century Mongols, both of which mastered the technique of omnidirectional attack. In modern times, British fighter planes swarmed from dispersed airfields all over southeastern England to harry massed Luftwaffe formations during the Battle of Britain, while at sea German U-boats were widely distributed when scouting, then converged to attack allied convoys. What's different today is that advanced sensing, communication and weapons guidance technologies make swarming possible in any terrain, against any opponent, 24/7.&lt;br /&gt;While the American military remains officially wedded to AirLand Battle, its latest field campaigns exhibit the beginnings of a potential "BattleSwarm" doctrine. In Afghanistan in the fall of 2001, slightly more than 300 special forces soldiers, who were networked with each other and with various air-based attack assets, quickly toppled the Taliban. These same elites did it again in much of Iraq, striking all over the country from the outset, saving the oilfields in the south, knocking out the Scud Box in the west, coordinating with the Kurds in the north and securing the approaches to Baghdad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will the U.S. military build on these first steps toward developing a truly networked "swarm force"? To best counter the adversaries bedeviling us in Iraq and Afghanistan, and those we may confront in other terror-war theaters, it is advisable to innovate along these lines. Right now, many military leaders are attracted to the concept of "network-centric operations," a vision of wiring together all our sensors and shooters. In some circles, however, swarming is being viewed narrowly, as a specialty notion, associated mainly with the use of autonomous (i.e., artificial intelligence-driven) systems. But as a deeper vision emerges and fixations on technology ease, serious questions will be raised about how best to give network-centric concepts operational life through organizational and doctrinal innovation. When these systemic questions get some traction, it will become evident that swarming is a big part of the answer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;PS:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; If you are interested in reading more about this and other aviation advancements, you can follow this link, &lt;a href="http://www.sci.fi/~fta"&gt;http://www.sci.fi/~fta&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113389299386380881?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113389299386380881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113389299386380881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113389299386380881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113389299386380881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/swarming-next-face-of-battlein-my-free.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113380959514129033</id><published>2005-12-05T11:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-05T12:06:35.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;I love this!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/400/DSC00850.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took this snap a couple of months ago when there was no snow. A whole stretch in the mountains was covered with such beautiful flowers. But now, all I see is a snow clad mountain top devoid of anything colorful!! Hmmm, I see life the same way, colorful at times and barren the other times! It is left to us to how we take up the barren patches of life. But I know it is humanly impossible to deal with good and bad of life in the same way! Am I sounding too much philosophical ? Forgive me :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113380959514129033?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113380959514129033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113380959514129033' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113380959514129033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113380959514129033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-love-this-i-took-this-snap-couple-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113356173578042129</id><published>2005-12-02T15:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-02T16:05:04.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Gems.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Gems.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;If all men are gems..!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on a client call today. There were 4 ladies on this conference call. One of them was supposed to make the presentation. As she was giving the talk, a huge noise started off from her side of the phone and none of us were able to hear what she was saying. We interrupted her and informed that her voice was not audible because of the clamor. She was very apologetic and said that the hubbub was because of her husband who was cleaning their house with a vaccum cleaner. She held us for a moment and came back. The grating was gone. The best part of it was that her husband came in on the line and profusely apologised for the inconvenience that he had caused. I seriously doubt how many men would be magnanimous enough to help their wives in the house hold activities while they(the wives) are working. And, more importantly I dont know how plausible it would be to assume that these men would admit openly that they help their wives. I can assure that there are not so many of them around and for sure, this guy is a gem! Hmmm..I'm just wondering if all men(including myself) are like this, how would the women folk rejoice!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113356173578042129?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113356173578042129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113356173578042129' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113356173578042129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113356173578042129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/if-all-men-are-gems.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113346183488284018</id><published>2005-12-01T11:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-01T14:02:38.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/IBMR51.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="134" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/IBMR51.jpg" width="147" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Double Delight!!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received my new Dell Inspiron 6000 laptop today..yay!! It is doubly delighting because I already have an IBM Thinkpad R51. The difference is that the IBM belongs to my company and I can use it only for business purposes. But now I have a personal laptop to do whatever I feel like doing. Watching videos, chatting, burning DVD's and what not! I used my new one sparingly today and from whatever I did with that so far, I feel that IBM is far more superior than Dell. I don't mean that Dell is poor in quality or whatever. But, we have to admit nobody can beat IBM in the notebooks space. My Thinkpad is so sleek and professional that whenever I carry it to a customer's place, it flaunts business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Dell6000.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 178px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 131px" height="144" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Dell6000.jpg" width="178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On the other hand, my Dell is so cool and colorful that it exudes unlimited fun. The metallic silver color shines as if it is a piece of moon. The 15.4" display gives a home theatre effect. The ergonomic keyboard allievates the pain in the finger tips after continous typing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all, I have one notebook for business and another one for fun. It is now up to me, how I effectively use both of them! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113346183488284018?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113346183488284018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113346183488284018' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113346183488284018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113346183488284018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/12/double-delight-i-received-my-new-dell.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113337560338572332</id><published>2005-11-30T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T11:33:24.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Missing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 124px" height="138" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Missing.jpg" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Missing 'Someone'&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of late, I have started feeling as if I'm missing 'someone'. I'm not home sick but I speak with my mom and dad almost everyday. So I don't certainly miss them. Though missing someone is supposed to be a painful sensation, I feel a pang of ecstasy whenever I get this thought. I'm certainly not a romantic type and to be true, I've had no serious affairs till date. One was close to what could be called as 'serious' but then we broke up for some reasons (I'm glad, we did so!). I'm just guessing that this 'someone' could be my &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ms. Right&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; waiting for me in some far corner of this world. Oops, when I read the above lines, I feel as if I've copied them from Kajol's diary in DDLJ :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113337560338572332?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113337560338572332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113337560338572332' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113337560338572332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113337560338572332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/missing-someone-of-late-i-have-started.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113329261022531443</id><published>2005-11-29T12:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-29T14:09:47.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Angel%20Tree.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Angel%20Tree.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Angel Tree&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if this custom exists in India. We do give a lot of presents for the poor and the needy during christmas on behalf of our church but I haven't come across the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Angel Tree". &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;It is nothing more than an ordinary christmas tree in which a number of tags are hung up. These tags contain the names of the needy children and the items they need. All we have to do is to pick up a tag(s) from the tree and buy the items listed in the tag(s) and leave it near the christmas tree. These gifts would be handed over to the children listed on the tags. The Salvation Army of Utah is doing this in my office. It is a very simple gesture of charity. Don't you think so? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113329261022531443?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113329261022531443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113329261022531443' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113329261022531443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113329261022531443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/angel-tree-i-dont-know-if-this-custom.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113320074506137388</id><published>2005-11-28T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T10:59:05.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Its Monday after a long Holiday!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Every day seems to elucidate this adage to me, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Time and Tide wait for no man"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Well, I wouldn't bother too much, if the day was a working day. But if it were a holiday, I cannot explain how depressed I feel. I left home from work last Wednesday with a hearty feeling that I had 4 days of holidays. Now, I'm back to work and still trying to figure out how the 4 days flew by. I dont have any repercussions with the way I spent my holidays. They were fun. But, then the moment I feel that time is fast elapsing, I can feel butterflies fluttering inside my tummy! I feel like someone is trying to point out to me that I'm still not the same 22 year old immature kid who was straight out of college and was negotiating life as it came. My head spins, when I see that past is fading away from my memory and future is fast approaching and demanding some of my time to be pondered upon.  After a moment of silence, I understand that it is hightime to plan for my future. Higher studies, marriage and blah, blah. I love to lead a carefree life and these kind of thoughts keep coming every now and then and dampens my spirit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113320074506137388?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113320074506137388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113320074506137388' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113320074506137388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113320074506137388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/its-monday-after-long-holiday-every.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113319651373068532</id><published>2005-11-28T09:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T09:48:33.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;I'm ---&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle" bg style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 14pt; COLOR: blackfont-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Blogging Type is Artistic and Passionate&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#cccccc"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatsyourbloggingpersonalityquiz/artistic.jpg" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see your blog as the ultimate personal expression - and work hard to make it great.&lt;br /&gt;One moment you may be working on a new dramatic design for your blog...&lt;br /&gt;And the next, you're passionately writing about your pet causes.&lt;br /&gt;Your blog is very important - and you're careful about who you share it with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourbloggingpersonalityquiz/"&gt;What's Your Blogging Personality?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113319651373068532?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113319651373068532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113319651373068532' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113319651373068532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113319651373068532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/im-your-blogging-type-is-artistic-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113276601917235145</id><published>2005-11-23T09:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-23T10:13:39.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Snow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Snow.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Chillin' Out!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The winter here is getting harsher day by day. Weather forecast predicts snowfall from the next week. Though I'm elated to see the first snow, I should admit that it would be a nightmare walking to the office daily in snow. My lips are getting dried and I have to carry a chap stick always with me, as women carry lip sticks, to keep my lips moist! Its dreadful to go outside without wearing a jacket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The holidays have begun and none of our plans have materialized yet. Still haven't cancelled the car that I had booked for the weekend. I'm still hoping to beat the roads in the snow blizzard! Well, I'll keep you posted on my weekend activities, just peep in here once in a while to check for updates! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113276601917235145?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113276601917235145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113276601917235145' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113276601917235145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113276601917235145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/chillin-out-winter-here-is-getting.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113269129285665920</id><published>2005-11-22T13:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T13:28:13.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Newton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 196px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" height="133" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Newton.jpg" width="150" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Defying Gravity&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love.&lt;br /&gt;                                                                 ~ Albert Einstein&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113269129285665920?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113269129285665920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113269129285665920' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113269129285665920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113269129285665920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/defying-gravity-gravitation-is-not.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113268172758678228</id><published>2005-11-22T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T10:48:47.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Irony.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Irony.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Supreme Irony&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I read this &lt;a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/msid-1304317,curpg-1.cms"&gt;article &lt;/a&gt;that had something to do with outsourcing in the US, I felt satirical. My mind went blank for a second not knowing how to react. I wouldn't have bothered if such a bill was drafted by an American (I mean by birth). But the fact that it has been filed by an NRI whose parents would have obviously entered the US by such Visas infuriates me. I understand that the subject here is no more an Indian but an American but wouldn't such an act send wrong signals to the American public? I can empathize her feelings because she is now a American who was an Indian, who now has to survive in the US. But at large, I feel that Indians are debased by Indians themselves!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113268172758678228?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113268172758678228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113268172758678228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113268172758678228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113268172758678228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/supreme-irony-after-i-read-this.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113259322112063971</id><published>2005-11-21T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-21T10:13:41.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Sam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Sam.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;A Cinderella Story&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend had picked up this DVD last week. This movie was an underdog in my list of titles that I had as options to watch on sunday evening. I generally dont like to watch immature romance on movies. But, I just wanted to give it a try because the heroine (Hillary Duff) looked gorgeous on the DVD label. Well, I know, it is not always a very good idea to watch a movie just for the cast sake!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my surprise, from the first scene, the movie was very interesting and hilarious. Oh! man, I can't just stop mentioning about Sam Montgomery (Hillary). She was damn gorgeous and sexy. And ofcourse, Austin Ames (Chad Micheal Murray), the hero was smart and captivating. The plot was good but predictable. But what made the movie interesting was the youthful exuberance of the characters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldnt mind watching this flick one more time. If you hadnt already watched this one, I would recommend you to see it once! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113259322112063971?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113259322112063971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113259322112063971' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113259322112063971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113259322112063971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/cinderella-story-my-friend-had-picked.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113245305659190325</id><published>2005-11-19T19:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-19T19:17:36.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Absolutely Topicless&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Munching a green apple, I'm writing this post. I hate to boot up my laptop on a weekend. Gosh! there is no other go today. Was watching the re-telecast of the second ODI between India and SA till now, my eyes are aching and are pleading for some rest! One of my favourites, Westlife's 'Uptown Girl' is playing in the background. Music rejuvenates a bored-up soul..Isn't it? I feel a lot better now and planning to configure my new router. It has been pending for more than a week and my internet is going slow day by day, like my brain! Needs a boost up to 6MBPS! God willing, tomorrow I would be away from my comp :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113245305659190325?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113245305659190325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113245305659190325' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113245305659190325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113245305659190325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/absolutely-topicless-munching-green.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113233994644708739</id><published>2005-11-18T11:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-18T11:52:26.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/LA.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/LA.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Where to go?!!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm going bonkers the moment I think about the Thanks giving weekend. I have 4 days to kill! I can't imagine myself sitting idly inside my apartment. Being a travel freak, I want to make use of the holidays to the fullest extent. But, my wallet and the weather are curbing my options! It has started snowing in the east and in the north. I can't imagine myself shivering in the snow. There are only two possible travel plans, one is to fly east to Florida and enjoy the tropical weather in Miami and the other is to drive west to Los Angeles and San Diego and enjoy the beaches there. Option #1 is too expensive (a flight ticket is close to $900..!!) and option # 2 needs to be marketed to my friends, as most of us have already been to LA! But, the drive would be fun if we decide on option #2. I'm thinking of all ways on how to sell the idea of driving to my friends. I hope, I can get their buy-ins. If not, God, what am I going to do? Oops..dreadful!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113233994644708739?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113233994644708739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113233994644708739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113233994644708739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113233994644708739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/where-to-go-im-going-bonkers-moment-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113225568951123965</id><published>2005-11-17T12:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-17T15:45:32.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Adam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Adam.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Why women think 'Men are from Mars' ?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm going to stir the Hornet's Nest with this post. But, I have no other choice other than doing so. Off late, I have been reading a lot of posts that portray men as dictators with no soul. Well, I might not be able to paint the whole picture of this issue but I can always write what I personally feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've read about various instances where women are not given their proper rights and are treated as inferior by the men folk. These are omnipresent, i.e they happen in rural and urban areas, in educated and uneducated families and in rich and poor societies. So, if we can find out the number of men involved in such heinous acts, we can prove that a majority of men are not from Mars but are from Venus itself. With this assumption, I'm proceeding forward and to any of you, who do not agree with me on this theory, everything below is going to be Greek and Latin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont want to be beating around the bush for long. The first and foremost thing to be done is to list down the various problems that women folk face due to men,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Physical - Be it beaten up, sexually harassed, made to do hard labor etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mental - Curtailing their freedom, forcing something against their free will, curbing their rights to decision making etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Now, its time to figure out what kind of men are involved in such atrocities,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Uneducated men who have been brought up in a conservative environment and are in desolute conditions are forced to vent out their anger on their spouses. The main reason for such behaviour is the fact that they are so much downtrodden in the society, that they are left with no other choice but their sheepish counterparts to vent their emotions. The spouses in these cases are generally uneducated, jobless and are dependant on their husbands. This gives the man an edge to think that his woman is inferior to him and cannot live alone without his help. Considering the fact that India is a developing nation and more than half of its population are in the rural areas, we can assume that close to 7 % of the male population fall in to this category.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Immoral men who cannot afford a living by moral ways force women who are dependant on them or are helpless in to prostitution and other kind of flesh trades. Based on the fact that flesh trade is not so predominant in India as it does in other east Asian countries, we can assume that only 1 - 2 % of the male population in India fall in to this bucket.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Men who feel inferior to their spouse because of their spouses' education or by their social statuses. Since this is based on a character of a person, it is hard to come up with an accurate count of men falling in to this. But assuming 2 - 3 % in this category would be close to reality, I guess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Apart from these all other reasons would be very infinitesimal and can be ignored. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Now coming to the fun part of the game, Lets sum up the percentages of the different categories of men who illtreat women, we get a value close to 10 %. Now it means that out of every 10 men a woman meets, 1 is going to be a moron. This number might be alarming. You might be forced to think that out of the 10 male collegues whom you might work with, one is going to be of this kind!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Now wait, dont jump in to conclusions. This 10% might not be geographically distributed evenly. Out of this 10%, 7 % might be in rural areas and 3 % might be in urban areas. Assuming that most of us work in posh urban areas, you will find only 3 of this kind among the 100 men you meet. And more over there could be overlap between these three categories. So the final percentage is going to be lesser than 3% in urban areas. Thats not bad..is it? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;So, instead of blatantly blaming men in general to be abusing women, lets restrain ourselves and be warm with the other 97 men. After all, woman was created from the body of man and a man who is harming a woman without knowing this is ignorant. Lets work towards shooing the darkness from such people's heart by educating and explaining them the basics of human civilization!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113225568951123965?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113225568951123965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113225568951123965' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113225568951123965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113225568951123965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/why-women-think-men-are-from-mars-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113215987744777173</id><published>2005-11-16T09:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-16T21:00:43.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Ohh..Ye Poor Tax Payers!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I read a report from the Planning Commission a couple of days ago. I went berserk, the moment I did that. It was kind of a project financial analysis report. I was appalled to see that most of the government projects were delayed in periods ranging from 1 week to 24 years. The report also outlined that the government spends 46% more on these projects. In a nut shell, the government squanders the tax payers' money because of poor execution of such projects! I would attribute bribery, lethargic public servants, embezzlement of the politicians, unstable government and the public's lack of faith on the government machinery as the reasons for this execrable situation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;What are we, as tax payers going to do about this?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;PS:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; India lost the first ODI agianst South Africa, reason being the poor batting display of the top order Indian batsmen!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113215987744777173?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113215987744777173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113215987744777173' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113215987744777173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113215987744777173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/ohh.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113207212375600150</id><published>2005-11-15T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-16T22:05:30.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cricket Rocks!&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/rahul.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/rahul.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm looking forward to see if the Indian winning juggernaut would crush the formidable proteas. What makes me sad is the fact that I would not be able to witness the match from the stands. Had I been in Chennai, I would have made a sincere effort to watch the Chennai match 'live'. Huh! no point in cribbing now ! eh? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113207212375600150?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113207212375600150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113207212375600150' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113207212375600150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113207212375600150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/cricket-rocks-im-looking-forward-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113200753284774954</id><published>2005-11-14T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T15:33:00.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Money Vs Kisses&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;One person working in another town, wrote a letter to his wife: &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear Sweet Heart, I can't send my salary this month, so I am sending 100 kisses. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yours &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vicky&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;His wife replied back after some days to her husband: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dearest Hubby, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thanks for your 100 kisses, I am sending the expenses details. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1. Milk man was agreed on 2 kisses &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;2. Teacher agreed on 7 kisses &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;3. Our house owner is coming every day and taking two or three kisses of mine. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;4. Vegetable and food shop keeper was not agreeing with kisses only, so I have given some other items to him........... &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;5. Others 40 kisses &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Please don't worry for me, I have balance 35 kisses and I hope I can complete this month. Shall I plan same way for next month? Please advise?????????&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your Sweet Heart.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You know what to do with your salary. right? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;u&gt;PS:&lt;/u&gt; There is another serious post below..Do read it !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113200753284774954?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113200753284774954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113200753284774954' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113200753284774954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113200753284774954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/money-vs-kisses-one-person-working-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113198535942021274</id><published>2005-11-14T08:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T09:22:39.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/kush.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Tinsel Controversy!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I know people generally take sides in case there is some kind of a controversy. But, I want to take a neutral standpoint in this issue. Perhaps, because I dont have the exact details about this one to take a side.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The controversy was ignited when the tamil actress Kushboo made a comment, a month back. All, I could gather from the media was this. She had said that not all men can expect virgins to be their wives (tamil women). The women's wing of the PMK party had made a huge hungama out of this. There were state wide protests and more than 25 cases were filed against the actress all over the state. Remember, these were the same people who built a temple for the actress a decade ago:). A couple of days back, one of the courts have issued an arrest warrant against her, for not appearing in court.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/sushas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 148px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 165px" height="181" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/sushas.jpg" width="176" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;While all these dramas were going on, another actress Suhasini added fuel to this fire. She had supported Kushboo and had made some blatant comments about the PMK leaders. The PMK, a caste party is one of the few parties in the south that thrives on controversial publicities. So they are not the ones to go away with this without doing anything. They burned Suhasini's effigy all over the state and demanded her to ask for amnesty in public. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The film industry has also supported the PMK party and has reprimanded the actresses. The actresses are expected to ask for public pardon to escape the wrath of these politcal forces! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm not sure, who is right and who is wrong! Perhaps, you could throw some light :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113198535942021274?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113198535942021274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113198535942021274' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113198535942021274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113198535942021274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/tinsel-controversy-i-know-people.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113174489133862066</id><published>2005-11-11T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-11T14:34:51.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/1600/Taj.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Taj.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Romantic Nostalgia!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, while I was having my dinner, I happened to watch a song from the tamil movie, "Jeans". Aishwarya Rai was dancing eloquently before the Taj Mahal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, I got this weird thought. How would it feel like sitting alone before the Taj Mahal and recollecting all the faces of my childhood and college day crushes ? Would it hurt me ? Or would I feel romantically nostalgic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have made a resolution to do this one day, preferably before getting married..:) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113174489133862066?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113174489133862066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113174489133862066' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113174489133862066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113174489133862066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/romantic-nostalgia-yesterday-while-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17815799.post-113164462616910623</id><published>2005-11-10T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T10:43:46.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/1727/200/Marriage.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Does it work?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Whenever I get to speak informally with an American, the first question he/she asks me is about marriages in India. "Hey Naveen, I've heard that ya guys in India marry a girl/boy whom your parents decide. How does it work? Here even the marriages that happen after careful choosing of our partners are in jeopardy after a copla years! Whats the secret of your sustaining the marriage life for 30 - 40 years? " &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;I simply tell them, "We believe that it would work and the belief really makes it work" ! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Are there any specific things that make our arranged marriages work? Any thoughts?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17815799-113164462616910623?l=myinstincts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/feeds/113164462616910623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17815799&amp;postID=113164462616910623' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113164462616910623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17815799/posts/default/113164462616910623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myinstincts.blogspot.com/2005/11/does-it-workwhenever-i-get-to-speak.html' title=''/><author><name>Naveen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03299946716375418639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3351/me7kq.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
