<?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-18005716</id><updated>2011-12-13T19:59:28.959-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life - As it is</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>KRIShna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18005716.post-5545078332840319424</id><published>2007-06-27T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T13:23:43.265-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Life Is so Uncertain;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;InYears,Days or moments;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things Life wound Garentee are few;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But may be or surely I would remember you .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18005716-5545078332840319424?l=fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/feeds/5545078332840319424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18005716&amp;postID=5545078332840319424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/5545078332840319424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/5545078332840319424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/2007/06/life-is-so-uncertain-inyearsdays-or.html' title=''/><author><name>KRIShna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18005716.post-114246764641525687</id><published>2006-03-15T16:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T16:07:26.433-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Never  Judge People By Their Appearance&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lady in a faded grey dress and her husband, dressed in a homespun! suit, stepped off the train in Boston and walk timidly without an appointment into the Harvard University President's outer office. The secretary could tell in a moment that such backwoods, country hicks had no business at Harvard and probably didn't even deserve to be in Harvard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We want to see the President," the man said softly. "He'll be busy all day," the secretary snapped. "We'll wait," the lady replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For hours the secretary ignored them, hoping that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away. They didn't and the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president." Maybe if you see them for a few minutes, they'll leave," she said to him.&lt;br /&gt;The President, stern faced and with dignity, strutted toward the couple.&lt;br /&gt;The lady told him, "We had a son who attended Harvard for one year. He loved Harvard. He was happy here. But about a year ago, he was accidentally killed. My husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him, somewhere on campus."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president wasn't touched.... He was shocked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Madam," he said, gruffly, "we can't put up a statue for every person who attended Harvard and died. If we did, this place would look like a cemetery."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, no," the lady explained quickly. "We don't want to erect a statue. We thought we would like to give a building to Harvard."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president rolled his eyes. He glanced at the gingham dress and homespun suit, and then exclaimed, "A building! Do you have any earthly idea how much a building costs? We have over seven and a half million dollars in the physical buildings here at Harvard."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a moment the lady was silent.&lt;br /&gt;The president was pleased. Maybe he! could get rid of them now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady turned to her husband and said quietly, "Is that all it costs to start a university? Why don't we just start our own?"&lt;br /&gt;Her husband nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president's face wilted in confusion and bewilderment. Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford got up and walked away, traveling to Palo Alto, California where they established the University that bears their name, Stanford University, a memorial to a son that Harvard no longer cared about.&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time we judge people by their outer appearance, which can be misleading. And in this impression only we tend to treat people badly by thinking they can do nothing for us thus we tend to loose our potential good friends, employees or&lt;br /&gt;customers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18005716-114246764641525687?l=fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/feeds/114246764641525687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18005716&amp;postID=114246764641525687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/114246764641525687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/114246764641525687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/2006/03/never-judge-people-by-their-appearance.html' title=''/><author><name>KRIShna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18005716.post-113692624518676554</id><published>2006-01-10T12:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T12:50:45.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Today we have higher buildings and wider highways, but shorter temperaments and narrower points of view.&lt;br /&gt;We spend more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses, but smaller families. We have more compromises, but less time. We have more knowledge, but less judgement. We have more medicines, but less health.&lt;br /&gt;We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk much, we love only a little, and we hate too much.&lt;br /&gt;We reached the moon and came back, but we find it troublesome to cross our own street and meet our neighbors. We have conquered the outer space, but not our inner space.&lt;br /&gt;We have higher income, but less morals… These are times with more liberty, but less joy… With much more food, but less nutrition…&lt;br /&gt;These are days in which two salaries come home, but divorces increase. These are times of finer houses, but more broken homes.&lt;br /&gt;That’s why I propose that as of today -- You do not keep anything for a special occasion, because every day that you live is a special occasion. Search for knowledge, read more, sit on your front porch and admire the view without paying attention to the needs. Pass more time with your family, eat your favorite food, visit the place you love. Life is a chain of moments of enjoyment; it isn’t only survival.&lt;br /&gt;Use your crystal goblets. Do not save your best perfume… use it every time you feel you want it. Take out from your vocabulary phrases like, "one of these days" and "someday". Let’s write that letter we thought of writing "one of these days…"&lt;br /&gt;Let’s tell our families and friends how much we love them. Never pass up a chance at adding laughter and joy to your life. Every day, hour, and minute are special… Because you never know if it will be your last…&lt;br /&gt;If you’re too busy to take some minutes to share this message with someone you love, and you tell yourself that you will share it "one of these days"… "one of these days" can be very far away, and you may not be there to see it… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18005716-113692624518676554?l=fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/feeds/113692624518676554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18005716&amp;postID=113692624518676554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113692624518676554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113692624518676554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/2006/01/today-we-have-higher-buildings-and.html' title=''/><author><name>KRIShna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18005716.post-113692613528833140</id><published>2006-01-10T12:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T12:48:55.306-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Love &amp; Marriage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's very short &amp; sweet.&lt;br /&gt;One day, john asked his Teacher, "What is love? How can I find it?"&lt;br /&gt;His teacher answered, "There is a vast wheat field in front. Walk forward without turning back, and pick only one stalk.&lt;br /&gt;If you find the most magnificent stalk, then you have found love."&lt;br /&gt;John walked forward, and before long, he returned with empty hands,having picked nothing.&lt;br /&gt;His teacher asked, "Why did you not pick any stalk?" john answered, "Because I could only pick once, and yet I&lt;br /&gt;could not turn back.I did find the most magnificent stalk, but did not know if there were any better ones ahead, so I did not pick it. As I walked further, the stalks that I saw were not as good as the earlier one, so I did not pick any in the end. His teacher then said, "And that is love."&lt;br /&gt;On another day, John asked his teacher, "What is marriage? How can I Find it?" His teacher answered, "There is a thriving forest in front. Walk forward without turning back, and chop down only one tree. If you find the tallest tree, then you have found marriage". john walked forward, and before long, He returned with a tree. The tree was not bad, and it was not tall either. It was only an&lt;br /&gt;ordinary tree, not the best but just a good tree. His teacher asked, "Why did you chop down such an ordinary tree?"&lt;br /&gt;john answered, "Because of my previous experience. I had walked through the field, but returned with empty hands. This time, I saw&lt;br /&gt;this tree, and I felt that it was the first good tree that I saw, so I chopped it down and brought it back. I did not want to miss the&lt;br /&gt;opportunity." His teacher then said, "And that is marriage.&lt;br /&gt;You see john , Love is the most beautiful thing to happen to a person, its an opportunity but you don't realize its worth when you have it but only when its gone like the field of stalks. Marriage like the tree you chopped, it's a compromise; you pick the first best thing you see and learn to live a happy life with it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18005716-113692613528833140?l=fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/feeds/113692613528833140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18005716&amp;postID=113692613528833140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113692613528833140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113692613528833140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/2006/01/love-you-pick-first-best-thing-you-see.html' title=''/><author><name>KRIShna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18005716.post-113609606860805082</id><published>2005-12-31T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-31T22:14:28.620-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Wishing You a Wonderful New Year !!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;AULD LANG SYNE&lt;br /&gt;The song, "Auld Lang Syne," playing in the background, is sung at the stroke of midnight in almost every English-speaking country in the world to bring in the new year. At least partially written by Robert Burns in the 1700's, it was first published in 1796 after Burns' death. Early variations of the song were sung prior to 1700 and inspired Burns to produce the modern rendition. An old Scotch tune, "Auld Lang Syne" literally means "old long ago," or simply, "the good old days." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Here is an old Scots version of Auld Lang Syne:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Should auld acquaintance be forgot&lt;br /&gt;And never brought to mind?&lt;br /&gt;Should auld acquaintance be forgot&lt;br /&gt;And days of auld lang syne?&lt;br /&gt;Chorus (repeated between stanzas):&lt;br /&gt;For auld lang syne, my dear,&lt;br /&gt;For auld lang syne&lt;br /&gt;We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet&lt;br /&gt;For auld lang syne.&lt;br /&gt;And surely ye'll be your pint stoop&lt;br /&gt;And surely I'll be mine&lt;br /&gt;And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet&lt;br /&gt;For auld lang syne.&lt;br /&gt;We twa hae run about the braes&lt;br /&gt;And pou'd the gowans fine&lt;br /&gt;But we've wander'd mony a weary foot&lt;br /&gt;Sin' auld lang syne.&lt;br /&gt;We twa hae paidl'd i' the burn&lt;br /&gt;Frae mornin' sun till dine&lt;br /&gt;But seas between us braid hae roared&lt;br /&gt;Sin' auld lang syne.&lt;br /&gt;And here's a hand, my trusty fiere&lt;br /&gt;And gi'e's a hand o' thine&lt;br /&gt;And we'll tak a right good willy waught&lt;br /&gt;For auld lang syne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The song recalls the days gone by and says we will always remember them. ``Should auld acquaintance be forgot?'' it asks. No, the chorus replies: ``For auld lang syne (for times gone by), we'll tak (drink) a cup o' kindness yet.''&lt;br /&gt;As for the other lyrics, Verse 2 refers to friends at separate places (or pubs), drinking to each other. Verses 3 and 4 talk about a long journey to find that friend, running ``about the braes'' (hillsides), and ``pou'd the gowans fine'' (pulled the pretty daisies), and getting tired doing so (``wander'd mony a weary fit,'' or ``a weary foot'' depending on the version). It continues with wading streams (``paidl'd in the burn''), from dusk until dinnertime, but even then, broad (``braid'') seas roar between them.&lt;br /&gt;But finally, in the last verse, the friends find each other. And they ``tak a right guid-willie waught'' (``drink a goodwill drink'') for times gone by.&lt;br /&gt;And even though people aren't sure what it means, it sounds sad and soothing at once, he says. ``It's a song about loss, but also about love -- a hope that you'll see the same people you love next year.''&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18005716-113609606860805082?l=fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/feeds/113609606860805082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18005716&amp;postID=113609606860805082' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113609606860805082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113609606860805082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/2005/12/wishing-you-wonderful-new-year-auld.html' title=''/><author><name>KRIShna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18005716.post-113587719636887546</id><published>2005-12-29T09:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T09:26:36.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What's your 4 minute mile?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer once observed: most people take the limits of their vision to be the limits of the world. A few do not. Join them. Profound point. The life you see this very moment isn't necessarily the life of your future. You might be viewing things through the eyes of your fears, limitations and false assumptions. Once you clean up the stained glass window you see the world through, guess what? A whole new set of possibilities appear. Remember, we see the world not as it is but as we are. That idea changed my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years ago, it was believed that no human being could ever break the 4 minute mile barrier. But after Roger Bannister broke it, many more replicated his feat within weeks. Why? Because he showed people what was possible. And then armed with that belief, people did the impossible&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your 4 minute mile? What bill of goods have you sold yourself as to what's impossible? What false assumptions are you making in terms of what you cannot have, do and be? Your thinking creates your reality. If you think something cannot occur in your life, then there's no way you will take the action required to make that goal a reality. Your impossibility thinking becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Your perceived limitations become the chains that keep you from the greatness you were meant to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18005716-113587719636887546?l=fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/feeds/113587719636887546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18005716&amp;postID=113587719636887546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113587719636887546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113587719636887546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/2005/12/whats-your-4-minute-mile-philosopher.html' title=''/><author><name>KRIShna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18005716.post-113587692827868830</id><published>2005-12-29T09:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T09:23:32.643-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Opportunity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The story is told of a young man who wished to marry the farmer's beautiful daughter. He went to the farmer to ask his permission. The farmer looked him over and responded, 'Son, go stand out in that field and I'm going to release three bulls, one at a time. If you can catch the tail of any one of the three bulls, you can marry my daughter.'&lt;br /&gt;The young man stood in the pasture awaiting the first bull. The barn door opened and out ran the biggest, meanest-looking bull he had ever seen. He decided that one of the next bulls had to be a better choice than this one, so he ran over to the side and let the bull pass through the pasture out the back gate.&lt;br /&gt;The barn door opened again. Unbelievable. He had never seen anything so big and fierce in his life. It stood - pawing the ground, grunting, slinging slobber - as it eyed him. Whatever the next bull was like, it had to be a better choice than this one. He ran to the fence and let the bull pass through the pasture, out the back gate.&lt;br /&gt;The door opened a third time. A smile came across his face. This was the weakest, scrawniest little bull he had ever seen. This one was his bull. As the bull came running by, he positioned himself just right and jumped at just the exact moment. He grabbed... but the bull had no tail!&lt;br /&gt;Life is full of opportunities. Some will be easy to take advantage of, some will be difficult. But once we let them pass (often in hopes of something better), those opportunities may never again be available.&lt;br /&gt;May you take advantage of the doors God opens for you this day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18005716-113587692827868830?l=fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/feeds/113587692827868830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18005716&amp;postID=113587692827868830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113587692827868830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113587692827868830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/2005/12/opportunity-story-is-told-of-young-man.html' title=''/><author><name>KRIShna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18005716.post-113092794613035049</id><published>2005-11-02T02:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-04T04:17:34.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;"&gt;I'm the milk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;This is a good one from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gauravsabnis.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;http://www.gauravsabnis.blogspot.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt; by Gaurav.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm The Milk"&lt;br /&gt;Here's another anecdote that just came back to me in a flash of recollection. It happened earlier this year at the San Diego airport. I had taken the boarding pass for my flight to Minneapolis, and was waiting for security check in a queue.There were four security check counters. Three were identical, and one was slightly different. It was apparently for "thorough" security check, for which certain passengers were chosen by the security personnel. I was obviously one of them, on account of my brown skin. Now I have no problems with that. America suffered a massive terrorist attack at the hands of 19 air-travellers, with skin similar to mine. I can understand if they feel a bit worried about letting me get on a plane without a thorough security check. And hey, it's their country, so I'll play by their rules. After all, don't the tourists pay the "white-skin-tax" at every stage in India?I stood in the "thorough" queue, and looked at others standing in the queue. Most of the folks were either black or brown, but there were one or two white men as well. One such white man was standing behind me. He probably noticed me observing the composition fo the queue and said to me,"I'm the milk.""Beg your pardon?", I said, not sure if I heard him right. Did he just say he was the milk?"I'm the milk" he said and seeing the puzzled expression on my face, went on "The milk added to make sure this coffee doesn't seem too dark."The "thorough" checking, by the way, was not as thorough as I feared. Clearly I look less terrorist-like than &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2004/WORLD/asiapcf/07/14/india.us/"&gt;George Fernandes&lt;/a&gt;. I was not strip-searched or anything. My hand-luggage and laptop were carefully examined, and I was made to walk through an arch where half a dozen tiny tubes pumped air at me(!!). Besides that it was no different from a normal security check.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18005716-113092794613035049?l=fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/feeds/113092794613035049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18005716&amp;postID=113092794613035049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113092794613035049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/113092794613035049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/2005/11/im-milk-this-is-good-one-from-httpwww.html' title=''/><author><name>KRIShna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18005716.post-112981567664606500</id><published>2005-10-20T06:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-03T06:20:41.493-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Manipulations of the Mind..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As part of the numerous forwards I get everyday, today I happened to read one without deleting it.&lt;br /&gt;It was story of a schoolboy asking his teacher as to what 'love' &amp; 'marriage' was. It’s really a wonderful story.&lt;br /&gt;It tells that in love we doubt, hope or rather blindly believe that that the best is yet to arrive when we wait on the banks of the youth stream and the ‘birds’ flutter by. And finally we realize that the day is over and that all the birds are home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wish we had done the choice, wish we had decided on the one though not the best but the best of our life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now looking at it in another way, all this how our mind manipulates the situation. We expect the best for us always immaterial of how good or bad we are. But still there is something within us which sometimes acts either too good or either too bad. So you never really know the difference. Your desire for the best sometimes comes in the way of your desire to be the best.&lt;br /&gt;when she/he is not interested in you , the mind manipulates it as a sacrifice for your aim in life or something of that sort .This would also help you later writing and telling people how you could have had all the joys of life if only you had confessed.&lt;br /&gt;This also helps you believe that the person always had something in for your and that you never told each other that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3493/1103/1600/11008369363.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3493/1103/320/11008369363.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And incase you end up with a Love life you have much wonderful reasons and excuses. Now you have the reasons for all the good and bad in life. You become or at least end up acting very good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this is a bit bitter.I never deny that there are stuffs like ' untold love’, 'confessions through eyes' and things like that. Well leaving the &lt;strong&gt;‘Life as it is’&lt;/strong&gt; , I stop here and let you read the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pleases go through -It's very short &amp; sweet. One day, john asked his&lt;br /&gt;teacher, "What is love? How can I find it?"&lt;br /&gt;His teacher answered, "There is a vast wheat field in front. Walk&lt;br /&gt;forward without turning back, and pick only one stalk.&lt;br /&gt;If you find the most magnificent stalk, then you have found love."&lt;br /&gt;John walked forward, and before long, he returned with empty hands,&lt;br /&gt;having&lt;br /&gt;picked nothing. His teacher asked, "Why did you not pick any&lt;br /&gt;stalk?" john answered, "Because I could only pick once, and yet I&lt;br /&gt;could not turn back.&lt;br /&gt;I did find the most magnificent stalk, but did not know if there&lt;br /&gt;were any better ones ahead, so I did not pick it. As I walked&lt;br /&gt;further, the stalks&lt;br /&gt;that I saw were not as good as the earlier one, so I did not pick any&lt;br /&gt;in the end. His teacher then said, "And that is love."&lt;br /&gt;On another day, John asked his teacher, "What is marriage? How can I&lt;br /&gt;Find it?" His teacher answered, "There is a thriving forest in&lt;br /&gt;front. Walk forward without turning back, and chop down only one&lt;br /&gt;tree. If you find the tallest tree, then you have found marriage".&lt;br /&gt;john walked forward, and before long, He returned with a tree. The&lt;br /&gt;tree was not bad, and it was not tall either. It was only an&lt;br /&gt;ordinary tree, not the best but just a good tree.&lt;br /&gt;His teacher asked, "Why did you chop down such an ordinary tree?"&lt;br /&gt;john answered, "Because of my previous experience. I had walked&lt;br /&gt;through the field, but returned with empty hands. This time, I saw&lt;br /&gt;this tree, and I felt that it was the first good tree that I saw, so&lt;br /&gt;I chopped it down and brought it back. I did not want to miss the&lt;br /&gt;opportunity." His teacher then said, "And that is marriage.&lt;br /&gt;You see john , Love is the most beautiful thing to happen to a&lt;br /&gt;person, its an opportunity but you don't realize its worth when you&lt;br /&gt;have it but only when its gone like the field of stalks. Marriage&lt;br /&gt;like the tree you chopped, it's a compromise; you pick the first&lt;br /&gt;best thing you see and learn to live a happy life with it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18005716-112981567664606500?l=fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/feeds/112981567664606500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18005716&amp;postID=112981567664606500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/112981567664606500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/112981567664606500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/2005/10/manipulations-of-mind.html' title=''/><author><name>KRIShna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18005716.post-112966107391469553</id><published>2005-10-18T11:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T11:47:36.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;God ! Not another Blog ...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3493/1103/200/ape-fingers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Hey ! let me try being different.Actually I tried once earlier , which also was my first.It was a collection of some of my "hey ! it pisses me off" , " loneliness know me by name "- kind of poems. Which was more to satisfy my desperation ( &lt;em&gt;Now don't picture me a Psycho&lt;/em&gt;) than people to read .Hey ! yet you can give it a try, at your own risk &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.life-day1.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;www.life-day1.blogspot.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt; .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now lets see what the chemistry between the fingers and the keyboard would be this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18005716-112966107391469553?l=fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/feeds/112966107391469553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18005716&amp;postID=112966107391469553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/112966107391469553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18005716/posts/default/112966107391469553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fingersandthekeyboard.blogspot.com/2005/10/god-not-another-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>KRIShna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
