<?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-3653567789709016478</id><updated>2012-01-22T05:46:33.441-08:00</updated><category term='Random'/><category term='Mr. J'/><category term='Postdoc life'/><category term='People'/><category term='Tag'/><category term='Sick'/><category term='Internet'/><category term='Technology'/><category term='Travel'/><category term='Family'/><category term='Moments'/><category term='Friends'/><category term='Reel life'/><category term='Men-women'/><category term='Malpractice'/><category term='Comedy'/><category term='Love relationship etc.'/><category term='Grad life'/><category term='Social issues'/><title type='text'>Brain dump</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>74</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-2838890513384716249</id><published>2011-08-08T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T18:56:18.281-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Postdoc life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reel life'/><title type='text'>P wants to play :(</title><content type='html'>I completed my third year as postdoc last month. Everyone including my conscience tells me I need to wrap up my work here and find a 'real job' within the next year. This means I need to:&lt;div&gt;- Round up all lab work meaningfully.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Publish, publish, publish. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Start applying for jobs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Prepare application package which includes &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;	&lt;/span&gt;- updating CV&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;	&lt;/span&gt;- coming up with a research proposal&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;	&lt;/span&gt;- coming up with course ideas for teaching jobs&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;	&lt;/span&gt;- writing up my teaching philosophy &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;	&lt;/span&gt;- and maybe thinking of finding some funding options for future too&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Prepare for the interview process.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And all I want to do is:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Go to India and visit my friends and family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Go on a long vacation somewhere nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Do something fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Read lots of non-work stuff.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the movies like &lt;i&gt;Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara&lt;/i&gt; tells you to live life and all that, they forget to emphasize the fact that these guys could do all that fun stuff only because they had some really nice jobs to pay for those expensive activities!!! Bah!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-2838890513384716249?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2838890513384716249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=2838890513384716249&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2838890513384716249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2838890513384716249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2011/08/p-wants-to-play.html' title='P wants to play :('/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-5201724487145681339</id><published>2011-06-06T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T17:42:56.096-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Malpractice'/><title type='text'>Life has been busy...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;When life is busy, there's little time to think.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When there's little time to think, there's less time to feel sad/worried/angry and all other such emotions that need venting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hence, no blogging for long time :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Health complications feared in last post was not true. Thankfully! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can now reveal the details of the story...it is quite a story..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had to go for physical checkup for immigration requirements. I could not use my personal physician as per rules. I had to go to someone the immigration people have listed on their website...mostly very poorly rated doctors. I picked one based on proximity...it's just some routine tests..how bad can it be, right? WRONG. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The doctor was listed as dermatologist/general physician. When I reached his clinic, it was more of a beauty clinic with ads of botox, laser hair removal and such! Anyways, the doctor never showed up. His assistants did all the tests and immunization routine (which was little odd but fine with me). Then they kept delaying my reports for weeks. Finally, the doctor's receptionist-cum-assistant told me I have an infectious STD and I need to go see a specialist!!!!! That was when I blogged last. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the initial shock I started searching the net. Thanks to my biology background I know I can't possibly have that disease (I am a very faithful girl and I trust my husband too). Thanks to the internet for providing some quick info about the specifics of the disease, and thanks again to my biology education for teaching me how to read lab reports, I realized that my lab report was actually a false positive due to some generic antibodies. The same report clearly showed that the lab has done two more confirmatory test after that to find out I am fine. My personal physician confirmed my findings. Turns out the doctor's receptionist-cum-assistant did not know how to read anything outside what she is used to seeing (a false positive happens 1 in hundreds). She didn't even bother to show the report to her superiors and the superiors didn't even bother to check the report, before telling someone that they have a bad disease!! When I called them back, their attitude was 'oops we missed that'..no real apology..nothing to make it better. On the contrary, it took 2 weeks and several bugging phone calls for them to write a simple fill-in-the-blanks report, that too an incorrect one!! When I got the report, it said that I have history of chicken pox instead of saying I got vaccinated for that disease from them!!!!!!! So I had to go back and make them write one more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Phew! I am glad I don't have to deal with such 'doctors' on regular basis. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyhoo...life is craziness free for now and as mentioned above has been busy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what's keeping me busy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No I'm not expecting :p&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Just started getting better results with my experiments (&lt;a href="http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2010/09/stuck.html"&gt;ref previous&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/can-some-new-directions-come-out-of-my.html"&gt;frustrated posts&lt;/a&gt;). So busy making sense of those results and planning and executing follow-up experiments.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Went to Florida on a short work trip, but managed to meet up &lt;a href="http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2011/02/on-finding-one-and-keeping-him-there.html"&gt;K and her new husband&lt;/a&gt;. She seemed quite happy and I don't think I need to worry for her anymore :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Also have been busy with some home improvement/ home decoration type of work. My brother-in-law and his family are visiting us in a week. First visitors from anyone from J's family. So time to start acting like 'grown up married people' and make our house look like one where 'grown up married people' live and entertain guests :p  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3653567789709016478-5201724487145681339?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/5201724487145681339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=5201724487145681339&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/5201724487145681339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/5201724487145681339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2011/06/life-has-been-busy.html' title='Life has been busy...'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-7646272460804158615</id><published>2011-02-23T14:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T14:25:58.097-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sick'/><title type='text'>To health..</title><content type='html'>I don't want any more sickness, new diseases or any kind of health complications. &lt;div&gt;PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-7646272460804158615?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/7646272460804158615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=7646272460804158615&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7646272460804158615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7646272460804158615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2011/02/to-health.html' title='To health..'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-5737365540802046154</id><published>2011-02-16T20:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T20:59:00.707-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><title type='text'>On finding THE ONE and keeping him there</title><content type='html'>No this is not a Valentine's Day post. This is about one of my closest friend who is getting married next month. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Among all my girl friends, K would definitely score the highest in any 'good wife, daughter/sister-in-law' test. She would also score the highest in being girly, romantic, caring, motherly and all such things. In short, she is the Charlotte York of our group. She has been looking for the perfect ONE since high school days, but unfortunately she has only met with severe heartbreaks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her high school sweetheart cut all communications with her one fine day..the day after she did not qualify for med school. She didn't even know what happened until she met a common friend who informed her of her own break-up. The guy apparently can only have a doctor wife..hence, the unannounced break-up!! (Even if I can somehow understand the shallowness..he was very young after all..I do not understand how can someone be so coward to just disappear from a relationship?). She kept hoping that he will come back to her one day, but he didn't. He married his med-school classmate after becoming doctors. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;K finally started living normally after 6 years of mourning. Then she fell for another guy in her grad school. Their relationship was all nice and good, but this guy could not stand up against his mother's unfair hatred against love marriage of any kind (why does a guy get into a relationship in the first place if he knows his mother will never approve and he knows he cannot go against her? His mother had cut all contact with her own daughter because she married a man of her own choice..so he should DEFINITELY KNOW what his mother is like..but he must be in denial). He just wanted to keep waiting silently until his mother agrees to their relationship. K very graciously removed herself from the relationship saying that she does not want to be the reason for mother-son split, but she kept hoping for him to grow a backbone so that they can be together again....until he sent her his wedding invitation (they decided to remain friends, you see!). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She says she knew the first guy was academically over-ambitious and the second guy couldn't stand up for himself in any circumstances. She never thought these can end the relationships. We, her close friends, fear that she knowingly falls for guys with weak personalities. Somehow she wants to protect and take care of these people and thinks she could make them better people. In the end, they take care of themselves and leave her hanging high and dry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After about another 5 years of mourning, K met her current fiance. They had a pretty dramatic relationship over the last 3 years including one major break-up. We friends were (to be honest, still are) very skeptical about this guy too. He broke up with her abruptly over some fight, which is not that uncommon in relationships. The thing that bugged us most was that immediately after their split, he went and asked his family to look for a girl for him to marry, and even got engaged to some girl he barely knows. Then after few months he broke that engagement, came back to K and said he was just very angry and doing those things in anger. He said that he still loves K and wants to be with her again. I don't doubt his love, but for a 30+ year old guy he surely sounds scarily impulsive to me! We cautioned K strongly when she got back with him. She assured us that there's nothing to worry about. We certainly hope she is right this time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The wedding is next month. She is all giddy and happy, posting annoyingly mushy stuff on Facebook :) I can't help but be extremely happy for her. I just hope only good things happen for her from now on. She definitely got her share and more of tears and pain already. She deserves some uncomplicated happiness now. I have more hope in the guy's family than him actually. His sister and mother strongly supported K throughout the break-up phase and also helped in bringing them back together. So hopefully they will help in keeping him in right place for rest of the life too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was hoping I would be able to go home next month and attend the festivities, but good old immigration issues make it impossible..again! Anyways, she should be in US soon after the wedding. So I guess I can celebrate then.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sending all the best wishes your way darling K.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-5737365540802046154?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/5737365540802046154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=5737365540802046154&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/5737365540802046154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/5737365540802046154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2011/02/on-finding-one-and-keeping-him-there.html' title='On finding THE ONE and keeping him there'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-1788224054137091166</id><published>2011-02-13T11:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T11:55:22.451-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Technology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><title type='text'>You know technology has taken over your brain when...</title><content type='html'>...you are dreaming about something (real dream while sleeping at night), and you don't like the dream, and you imagine pressing the fast forward button on your TV remote, and the dream actually plays in fast forward mode.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happened to me last night!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-1788224054137091166?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/1788224054137091166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=1788224054137091166&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1788224054137091166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1788224054137091166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2011/02/you-know-technology-has-taken-over-your.html' title='You know technology has taken over your brain when...'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-1688732057121099586</id><published>2010-12-21T17:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-21T17:39:53.163-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Happy Holidays!</title><content type='html'>One more day of pretending to work and then E-L-E-V-E-N continuous days of mandatory and very happy holidays! :) Now only if the rain stops.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/TRFV5iTk7_I/AAAAAAAAAL0/igFdW-OISZo/s1600/christmas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 294px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/TRFV5iTk7_I/AAAAAAAAAL0/igFdW-OISZo/s400/christmas.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553314262474354674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-1688732057121099586?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/1688732057121099586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=1688732057121099586&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1688732057121099586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1688732057121099586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2010/12/happy-holidays.html' title='Happy Holidays!'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/TRFV5iTk7_I/AAAAAAAAAL0/igFdW-OISZo/s72-c/christmas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-9028887742148130977</id><published>2010-11-18T16:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T16:40:23.754-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sick'/><title type='text'>Lost all wisdom and totally bored now</title><content type='html'>I got all my wisdom teeth extracted on Monday, yes, all 4 of them gone for good. No more pain!!&lt;div&gt;I have been sitting at home this entire week, swollen and drugged, and I am soooooo bored. I finished all things saved on the DVR. Live TV is so lame during daytime. Looks like American channels assume that only weird people watch TV during daytime! How long can one surf the net randomly or watch youtube videos? I guess I can read a book, but don't really have any easy-read books around. It's hard to focus on serious stuff on all the painkillers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do stay-at-home people do keep themselves entertained? Need some easy ideas. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-9028887742148130977?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/9028887742148130977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=9028887742148130977&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/9028887742148130977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/9028887742148130977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2010/11/lost-all-wisdom-and-totally-bored-now.html' title='Lost all wisdom and totally bored now'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-4593984634928187270</id><published>2010-10-04T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T11:50:31.193-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Can some new directions come out of my haphazard thoughts?</title><content type='html'>I still don't have that Eureka moment. Did lots of reading in last few days. Have come up with a slightly different roundabout approach of solving my problem. Not the best solution, but hope these new experiments work and at least give me some direction. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I should start writing in the meantime. 2 years completed in this post-doc. Time to write down some real papers!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Time to start thinking of jobs hunts too!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The problem is that the current situation works little too well for me. Academically, my current project fits my interests and qualifications perfectly. Personally, the location of my job lets me have a regular life with J. The thought of changing the situation is not very motivating. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What if the job I like and manage to get takes me away from J? I don't want to do long distance relationship again. I have already done my share of that and more!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know J will move with me, if we have to. But it will be a shame to ask him to do so. Silicon Valley is the best place to be for any software engineer, and he has spent so much of his life establishing himself and forming connections here. How can I ask him to start all over again?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't like taking up just any job. I have spent a lot of time and energy on my career too. Will I find something I like here again? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Among all these uncertainties, Mrs. M has already mentioned the baby thing twice. Bah. How can I tell a relatively stranger elderly person that the way she looks at life is not the same way I look at it? I am only used to communicating with my mother who mostly understands me (after all she made me the way I am), or I can yell at her if she even remotely acts like Mrs. Bennet. Does anyone have any suggestions on communicating with mother-in-laws, without being rude? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-4593984634928187270?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4593984634928187270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=4593984634928187270&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4593984634928187270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4593984634928187270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2010/10/can-some-new-directions-come-out-of-my.html' title='Can some new directions come out of my haphazard thoughts?'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-164796805057594003</id><published>2010-09-22T00:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T12:36:44.173-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Postdoc life'/><title type='text'>Stuck</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Going in loops trying to solve the same basic problem. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Need an 'Eureka moment'. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BADLY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/TJpYTYEfvyI/AAAAAAAAALs/idmmKDSX1CI/s1600/clip_image002_003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/TJpYTYEfvyI/AAAAAAAAALs/idmmKDSX1CI/s400/clip_image002_003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519821383198031650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-164796805057594003?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/164796805057594003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=164796805057594003&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/164796805057594003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/164796805057594003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2010/09/stuck.html' title='Stuck'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/TJpYTYEfvyI/AAAAAAAAALs/idmmKDSX1CI/s72-c/clip_image002_003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-5773252132975549590</id><published>2010-08-13T13:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-13T13:15:50.392-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mr. J'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Postdoc life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Let me talk about some good times now..</title><content type='html'>Last 2 weeks have been so much fun that I am almost forgetting all my ailments and problematic co-workers mentioned in the last 2 posts. Here are some things I would probably remember forever from past few days:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. My first trip to Canada. It felt very foreign because I landed first in Montreal (Quebec) and everything was very different from US and even other parts of Canada. Language, people, architecture, street designs, food....everything was French or French-inspired. I so want to learn French now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Presenting my work at a great conference and listening to some great talks from some of the pioneers and upcoming stars in my field. It got even better when some of these people showed interest in my work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When Dr. R came by my poster I was totally star-stuck and I think I was acting somewhat goofy too :D But after all this is the guy whose book has been my main to-go book for last 5 years and this guy thought my work is cool!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when Prof. M asked me a question after my talk, I didn't even know that it was 'The Prof. M'...the first person to give us the basics in my field in the 1990s. I even explained some basics to her in answer of her question as I would do for any regular audience! :D But she was really sweet and she came up to me after the talk, congratulated me on my work and gave some great input. I am still re-living that moment everyday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Meeting my old labmate and good friend U after 2 years, roaming around in Montreal, and having good pure girlie time. Rooming together, chatting till late hours, sharing fun and horror stories about our respective big fat crazy inter-state Indian weddings in the past year, our new families and of course our new 'husbands'. Sharing stories about our new labs and remembering our times at our old lab, discussing our other friends and of course, our good old advisor man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Meeting some other people from grad school, including one of my favorite prof. He was very formal back in grad school, but now he acted like a senior friend. Gave me a big hug, told me that he is happy to see I'm doing well (he even knew about my recent publications!), had silly conversations about facebook, tracking ex-es and such :) and then just before my talk when I was most nervous he came up to give me encouragement. Made me very happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. J joining me after the conference to go on our second mini-honeymoon. We never had time to go on a real honeymoon after our wedding. So we have recently started going on belated mini ones :) Fun times (including the numerous fights) exploring Montreal, Toronto and Niagara from the other side together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. The perfect last day of a perfect trip: Waking up to see sunrise over Niagara Falls from our 28th floor window. Few hours later, crossing a country border via road for the first time. Few more hours, and we get to see an aerial view of the Atlantic Ocean, entire Manhattan island including Empire State Building and Statue of Liberty. Late in the night the very same day, we see a more familiar aerial view...the Pacific Ocean, San Francisco city and the Golden Gate bridge. Finally coming back to own own comfy bed around midnight and falling asleep instantly :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, next day we had to get up and go back to work. :( But I am looking forward to the weekend. It is my birthday!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-5773252132975549590?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/5773252132975549590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=5773252132975549590&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/5773252132975549590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/5773252132975549590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2010/08/let-me-talk-about-some-good-times-now.html' title='Let me talk about some good times now..'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8609790410021411980</id><published>2010-06-09T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-09T19:52:55.148-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sick'/><title type='text'>My bad time continues...</title><content type='html'>If having weird work problems were not enough, my health is also suddenly failing me from all sides :(&lt;div&gt;- I have cough and cold since last week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- I keep having bad back pains. It got really worse when I stupidly tried to do some simple exercises. Now I have to go through physio therapy for next few weeks!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- My doctor also did a full physical check up on me. Turns out I have hypothyroidism, tendency of diabetes (both run in my family) and low Vit D!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am only 30. I don't want to feel like I am 60. Boo hoo hoo hoo000. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Only positive things I can think about right now are:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- I have been prescribed to spend more time outside, to soak up some Vit D enriched sunlight (=less of dark microscopy labs?) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Eating lots of fish is recommended (yes I am a Bengali and I love my fish)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Finally, maybe I can tell the Boss man my sob story highlighting the need for back rest and sunshine and get some 'work from home' days sanctioned.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmm..positive thinking really works! I already feel little less depressed :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3653567789709016478-8609790410021411980?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8609790410021411980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8609790410021411980&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8609790410021411980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8609790410021411980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-bad-time-continues.html' title='My bad time continues...'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-1821502883270384275</id><published>2010-06-07T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-09T19:21:23.105-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Postdoc life'/><title type='text'>Publication personalities</title><content type='html'>Based on my few years in science research, I can now divide other researchers in the following categories:&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Elites&lt;/b&gt;: They have novel ideas, they do (or hire people to do) high quality work to test these ideas, take their time to make it a powerful story and only when they are thoroughly convinced, they send these papers for publication. They usually prefer to publish only in high impact journals. Being at their position (they are usually reputed and established in their field by now), also aids in getting accepted in these high impact journals. They are idols for newbies like me (except when they are being little snobbish).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Quality lovers:&lt;/b&gt; They do good science (may not always be the cutting edge ones), they do it honestly and thoroughly, also take their time to make a convincing case. Their goal is to get these papers accepted in high impact journals. Some times they succeed, some times they have to be satisfied with medium level, but still respected journals. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Rapid communicators:&lt;/b&gt; They want to publish after every new experiment they do. They are usually not concerned much about the quality, but their research is honest. They do not mind settling for low impact journals. Some times they consciously search for low impact journals so that their paper gets accepted rapidly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Free riders:&lt;/b&gt; They want all the good things, but they don't like paying any price for it. They want to publish sensational papers (that maybe way out of their area of expertise) in high impact journals and they want to publish fast. They want others to do all the hard work and sometimes they take all the credit without acknowledging anyone who actually did the grind work. Some of their practices are borderline unethical. They are not ashamed of their ways. On the contrary they are very bossy with everyone around them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I believe I fall in the second group. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dream of becoming a member of the first group some day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am fine to co-exist with the third group.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I detest the fourth group, but I am stuck with one of them as an important collaborator for my project!!!!!! Luckily, my boss man is an almost-Elite and has been backing me up throughout. I am highly frustrated, seriously angry and want to hit someone real bad. Instead, I blog :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-1821502883270384275?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/1821502883270384275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=1821502883270384275&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1821502883270384275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1821502883270384275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2010/06/publication-personalities.html' title='Publication personalities'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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-3653567789709016478.post-2954446038411949273</id><published>2010-05-26T18:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T18:55:23.099-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Postdoc life'/><title type='text'>Power of positive thinking</title><content type='html'>"I double my salary by working* half of the time."&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;- A fellow postdoc, during one of our frequent discussions on the frustratingly low salaries we get in academics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*=working on the research project, as opposed to sitting in front of the computer pretending to work :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-2954446038411949273?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2954446038411949273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=2954446038411949273&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2954446038411949273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2954446038411949273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2010/05/power-of-positive-thinking.html' title='Power of positive thinking'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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-3653567789709016478.post-8683943216163071830</id><published>2010-03-28T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T19:42:42.415-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><title type='text'>It's official..I am old</title><content type='html'>Found my first gray hair today :(&lt;div&gt;Now the question is '&lt;i&gt;Chod diya jay ki maar diya jay?&lt;/i&gt;'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-8683943216163071830?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8683943216163071830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8683943216163071830&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8683943216163071830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8683943216163071830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2010/03/its-officiali-am-old.html' title='It&apos;s official..I am old'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8698776123991222040</id><published>2009-12-24T09:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-08-13T13:20:24.688-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mr. J'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Internet'/><title type='text'>Kahani kaafi filmy hai</title><content type='html'>Oct 1999&lt;br /&gt;My papa bought me my first computer as graduation gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime in 2001&lt;br /&gt;Initial excitement of new computer dies. I started looking for new things to try. I signed up for something called e-mail buddy (first transition from pen-friend, precursor of networking as well as matrimony sites). I received lots of 'wannabe friends' type mails from frustrated guys, but I also got a handful of nice real pen-friend style mails from guys and girls from different parts of India and even other countries (I am still friends with 5 of them and have met 2 till date).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;March 2002:&lt;br /&gt;I got the first e-mail from one of the above mentioned '2'. It was a simple mail showing interest in 'talking' and not dating. For some reason I found the simplicity interesting and honest and I replied. My reply was my still full of sarcasm. The response was a one liner but a complete check-mate one liner. I was super impressed. Regular exchange of e-mail starts, then starts chatting (ah, old yim days!). Within few months we were fast friends. We still didn't know each others' real name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;August 2003&lt;br /&gt;I moved to US. I had very few friends and no family in US at that time. My friendship with my anonymous e-mail buddy (AEB) became even stronger as he was also in another part of US. AEB helped me with buying calling cards, laptop and many such things that fresh-of-the-boat Indian students need help with. One day I gave my phone number to AEB because I desperately needed some advice (again to buy something online). AEB called. It was weird to talk for the first time. But then gradually we started calling regularly. It was fun to discover how much we had in common. By now we also knew each others' first name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;December 2003&lt;br /&gt;It was winter vacation and I had nowhere to go. AEB had forced vacation and was planning a Florida trip with friends. His friends canceled last minute and somehow jokingly it was decided that AEB will come and meet me in snowing Ohio!! For the first time we asked each others' full real names.&lt;br /&gt;I thought my parents will kill me. But surprisingly they said ok [I guess they trust me more than I think they should :) ]. I was prepared with knives in my cupboards in case a weirdo turns up.&lt;br /&gt;AEB showed up. After a few awkward minutes it seemed like we were meeting some old-time friend. He stayed in a hotel in town for few days and kept visiting me everyday. Before he left for home, we more or less confessed how much we like each others' company :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jan 2004-July 2005&lt;br /&gt;'Confession of likeness' turned into 'let's give this relationship a try' that then turned into 'looks like this might work, we need to tell parents'. All this while living 2000 miles apart, with occasional weekend trips across the country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;July 2005&lt;br /&gt;Parents were notified and luckily they seemed more than happy. However, long-distance relationship continued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;August 2008&lt;br /&gt;I finally finished grad school and moved to the other side of the country. Parents were really excited and demand instant wedding. I still needed a new visa to visit India. So parents' are snubbed every time marriage is mentioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;July 2009&lt;br /&gt;My petition for new visa gets approved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;December 25th, 2009, 12.20am (Indian-Standard Time)&lt;br /&gt;I am sitting in my parents' house in India, in front of the same very first computer, blogging with hands full of mehendi. In 5 hours, I leave for another part of India. In 2 days, I get married to my anonymous e-mail buddy, my best friend, my boyfriend, my fiance and my soon-to-be husband........&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Note: This is the 100% honest version of this story and only J and I knew this version, until right now. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-8698776123991222040?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8698776123991222040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8698776123991222040&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8698776123991222040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8698776123991222040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2009/12/kahani-kaafi-filmy-hai.html' title='Kahani kaafi filmy hai'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-1867545479204039164</id><published>2009-05-29T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T20:22:06.687-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tag'/><title type='text'>Staycation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I am taking couple of days off from work this week. Nothing special. I haven't had a proper vacation since Dec 2007, I didn't get to take a proper break between finishing my PhD and starting my postdoc, and I didn't take any days off since then either. I had to work from home even during the mandatory winter break. So I am really exhausted. I would like to take a month off and go home, but can't do that because of visa issues :( I wanted to go for a vacation within US, but J can't take time off right now. This week things were little less hectic at work. So I decided to take it easy and use couple of my earned leave days that will become invalid in 2 months and just do nothing :D My labmate told me that it's called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Staycation"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;staycation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;So for the past 2 days I am having a perfect staycation. I am getting up late, sitting on my couch most of the day, checking my work mail only twice a day and responding to only urgent stuff, doing very little work related stuff, watching lots of TV, surfing the net all day with no particular goal, and even taking afternoon nap :D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I am really bored now and want to do something more productive. I hope I can do something fun over the weekend. For now, I'll start with doing a loooooong tag that has been making rounds on facebook and blogger :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;1. Last beverage – Thai Iced tea – last night with dinner. I don’t usually drink morning coffee or tea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;2. Last phone call- Mom - again last night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;3. Last text message – Can’t remember. I rarely use text messaging  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;4. Last song you listened to – Bruises-by Chairlift  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;5. Last time you cried – Around two weeks ago. I cry all the time :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;HAVE YOU EVER.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;6. Dated someone twice? – No  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;7. Been cheated on? – I hope not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;8. Cried yourself to sleep? – Many times. Told you, I am a cry baby :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;9. Lost someone special? – Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;10. Been depressed? – Not seriously depressed, just the regular sad phases that most people go through at some or other points in their lives. I bounce back pretty quick though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;11. Seen ghosts – No :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;12. Black &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;13. Grey &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;14. Blue   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;(yeah I’m quite boring)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;THIS YEAR HAVE YOU.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;15. Made new friends – It takes me a long time to call anyone ‘friend’ but yes, I made new acquaintances.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;16. Fallen out of love – No and hope I don’t :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;17. Laughed until you cried – Not really :)  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;18. Met someone who changed you – It’s impossible to change a perfect person :p&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;19. Found out who your true friends were – I think I already know. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;20. Found out someone was talking about you – Yes, but nothing bad. Just two common friends talking about others in the group.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;21. Kissed anyone on your friend's list – Yeah. My boyfriend is on my friends’ list you see.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;22. How many people on your friends list do you know in real life – I don’t add strangers, although there are few people whom I haven’t met in person, like J’s family members and some friends’ friends whom I have some good reason to interact with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;23. How many kids do you want to have – Maximum one. The world population is too high already. Besides, I am too lazy to take care of anyone. Taking proper care and giving right guidance to even one kid sounds like a huge responsibility to me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;24. Do you have any pets – No. As I said, I’m too lazy and afraid of taking responsibility of another life. I can’t even keep all my plants alive!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;25. Do you want to change your name – Not really. I will loose my identity if I do so now. Besides, it’s pretty uncommon, which I like and it has a nice sentimental story attached. But if I can go back in time when my dad chose my name, I would ask him to think of a shorter and universal name :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;26. What did you do for your last birthday – Went to work. No one at work knew it was my birthday as I had joined 2 weeks ago and I don’t like to announce my own birthday. Evening was good as J brought me flowers (for the first time!!..faintly hoping not for the last time) and a chocolate cake and then took me out for dinner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;27. What time did you wake up today – 9.30 am. As I mentioned I am taking the day off from work. So there was no need to get up early :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;28. What were you doing at midnight last night – Watching Jay Leno.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;29. Name something you CANNOT wait for – Get my new visa and go home. Haven’t gone home for 3 years and haven’t seen my parents for 1.5 years!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;30. Last time you saw your father – Nov 8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; 2007, when my parents were going back to India after spending two wonderful months with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;31. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life – I think I am quite fortunate for having a pretty decent life. The only thing that will make it perfect is if I had control over each and every aspect of it :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;32. What are you listening to right now – Sound of the ticking wall clock.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;33. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom – I can think of two right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;34. What's getting on your nerves right now? Waiting for my new visa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;36. Whats your real name – Can’t tell here :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;37. Relationship Status – In a relationship. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;38. Zodiac sign – Leo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;39. Male or female – Female  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;40. Natural Hair color? – Black.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;41. Hair color now – I don’t color my hair. Main reason, I am usually too lazy to spend time on looking good. Secondly, the amount of ammonia and peroxide in those colors make me very nervous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;42. Pet Peeve – Irresponsible people, ever-complaining-ever-unhappy people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;43. Need Glasses- Surprisingly no, even after spending most of my open-eye times reading, or peeping through microscope lenses in dark rooms or staring at a computer or TV screen :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;44. Long or short – I need a more specific question than that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;45. Height – 5’ 3”  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;46. Do you have a crush on someone – I think I am too old to have romantic crushes. Now I only admire fine men if I rarely see one :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;47. What do you like about yourself? – Hmmm where do I start…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;48. Piercings – Ears..that’s it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;49. Tattoos – No thank you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;50. Righty or lefty – Righty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;FIRSTS.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;51. First surgery – None so far, thankfully. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;52. First piercing – Ears. I must be 2-3 years old. I hardly remember anything about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;53. First tattoo – Never.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;54. First best friend – I don’t remember. We moved from one place to another too often when I was a kid and I can’t remember the friends I made between ages 1-5. The only friend from that age who is still a very good friend is a guy who lived next door to my grandma’s house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;55. First sport you joined – I was never too fond of sports. My earliest memory of being part of any sports would be playing cricket and badminton in the colony when I was 6-8 years old.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;56. First pet – I got two gold fishes as gift once. Do they count as pet?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;57. First vacation – That would be a trip to parts of Tamil Nadu when I was about a year old. No, I do not have any memories of that vacation. I know because my parents have an album full of photographs from the trip and my mom still tells stories about what I was doing when we went to so and so places :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;59. First crush- S. Age 13. I think I mentioned about him in a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/06/secret-life-of-p.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;earlier tag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;60. First alcoholic drink – I think it was Irish-cream. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;RIGHT NOW.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;61. Eating – Nothing.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;62. Wearing – Navy blue gym pants and sky-blue t-shirt with my grad school’s name on it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;63. I'm about to – Eat lunch.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;64. Speaking to – No one. I am alone at home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;65. Waiting to – Nothing. I have no rush, no plans today. Perfect staycation day :)  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;YOUR FUTURE.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;66. Want kids? – I thought I wanted to, but I am getting unsure the more I think about it. Out of 4 of my closest girl-friends, N and L are single, D is married but fighting with parents and in-laws about why they don't want kids anytime soon, and M, who is married with a kid tells me never to get married and have kids because she feels trapped! Having such friends don’t help much :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;67. Want to get married? – I think so. Even though I keep getting cold-feet every now and then, I guess I want our families to be more comfortable with our relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;68. Careers in mind? – I already have a career. Now the only choice left is Academics or Industry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;WHICH IS BETTER WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;69. Lips or eyes – Eyes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;70. Hugs or kisses – Hugs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;71. Shorter or taller- Taller than me, but not so tall that I feel like a dwarf next to him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;72. Older or Younger – Older &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;73. Romantic or spontaneous – Spontaneous &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;74. Nice stomach or nice arms – Nice stomach.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;75. Tattoos or piercings- Preferably none. A tiny ear stud at max, if someone can carry it properly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;76. Sensitive or loud- Sensitive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;77. Hook-up or relationship – Relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;78. Trouble maker or hesitant- Trouble maker.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;HAVE YOU EVER.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;79. Kissed a stranger – No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;80. Drank hard liquor - Yes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;81. Lost glasses/contacts – I don’t have any to loose. I almost lost my sun-glass few weeks ago in a fitting room. Fortunately remembered about it before leaving the store, and the dressing room lady still had them. From the look on her face, it looked like she was hoping to keep it for herself and was sad that I came back for it. The fact that she never made a lost-and-found announcement for half an hour supports my belief.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;82. Sex on first date – No &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;83. Broken someones heart – I have said no to few guys. They seemed sad at that time, but don’t think anyone was seriously heart-broken. Most of them are married now and still friends, except one guy. He stopped all communication with me once he decided to get married. Most kiddish for a 28 year old, won’t you say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;84. Had your own heart broken – No, unless you count teenage crushes that never became anything more :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;85. Been arrested?- No. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;86. Turned someone down – Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;87. Cried when someone died – Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;88. Got someone into trouble intentionally – No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;DO YOU BELIEVE IN.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;89. Yourself – Very much, but not unrealistically. I am mostly aware of my capabilities and incapabilities.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;90. Miracles – Not really. I believe what we call as a miracle is just an event that has low statistical possibility of happening. But if it happens, then there must be a logical explanation to it. Maybe we still don’t have all the tools to explain it yet, but there has to be a reason.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;91. Love at first sight – Surely not for me. It might work for others. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;92. Heaven – No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;93. Santa Claus – No :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;94. Kissing on the first date? - No &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;95. Angels – No. Selfless social workers come pretty close.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ANSWER TRUTHFULLY.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;96. Is there one person you want to be with right now? – I am actually enjoying my rare day alone. But yes, it would be great if I could be at home with my parents now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;97. Had more than one boyfriend/ girlfriend at one time? – No  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;98. Do you believe its possible to remain faithful forever? – I think so. You can’t feel happily in love everyday of your life, but that doesn’t mean you have to find comfort in other people whenever you are unhappy with your current partner. Commitment and being faithful needs much more determination that being in love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;99. What's the one thing you cannot live without? – Oxygen :p&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;100. Posting this as 100 truths? - No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 20.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS';font-size:180%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-1867545479204039164?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/1867545479204039164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=1867545479204039164&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1867545479204039164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1867545479204039164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2009/05/staycation.html' title='Staycation'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8525113787020744292</id><published>2009-05-21T13:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T13:43:02.124-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reel life'/><title type='text'>Yaaay for Kris Allen</title><content type='html'>Even though the judges (except Randy) and producers were heartless towards you (and unfairly partial towards Adam) throughout the season, we were not :) We rooted and voted for you and........YOU ARE THE NEXT AMERICAN IDOL!!!!!!!! Hope you believe in yourself little more now and come up with some amazing records soon. Congrats Kris!!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Looks like I am having really good musical times. Lot of my wishes have been coming true these days! :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since I was 15 years old, my favorite Indian singer has been Jagjit Singh. Attending his concert was one of the things I had on my 'must do before I die' list. For some or other reason I kept missing the opportunity to fulfill this wish...until May 2nd, 2009. Yes, I got to see him live in concert and in spite of his age and poor health, he still had the same amazing voice that my mom calls 'God's voice'. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night my AI wish also came true. J has been rooting for Kris from the Top-36 episode. I can't say I was going crazy for him like J has been, but he was among my top 3, until my other favorites left quite early in the competition. I never liked Adam or Danny. They might be great singers but their kind of music is not something I listen to. But most of the world around me seemed to be in love with Adam. So I was really not very hopeful last night. But....HE WON!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the happy musical times don't stop here. I am going to Coldplay concert in July!!!!!!!! Happy, happy, happy...I am one happy girl right now...at least if I don't think of anything other than music :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3653567789709016478-8525113787020744292?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8525113787020744292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8525113787020744292&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8525113787020744292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8525113787020744292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2009/05/yaaay-for-kris-allen.html' title='Yaaay for Kris Allen'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-5010375229669950587</id><published>2009-04-01T14:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T15:00:14.767-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Internet'/><title type='text'>Autopilot</title><content type='html'>I found &lt;a href="http://mail.google.com/mail/help/autopilot/index.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; gmail ad to be hilarious. Apart from the sample mails, the response to 'What happens if a sender and recipient both have Autopilot on?' in the side bar deserves special mention.&lt;div&gt;Good to see that google engineers still have some sense of humor :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-5010375229669950587?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/5010375229669950587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=5010375229669950587&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/5010375229669950587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/5010375229669950587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2009/04/autopilot.html' title='Autopilot'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8968566928293347531</id><published>2009-03-21T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T17:44:29.718-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Social issues'/><title type='text'>Ignorant or utopian?</title><content type='html'>Like many other people who believe in scientific reasoning, I was shocked and angry after hearing the &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7950671.stm"&gt;Pope's message in Africa&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7951839.stm"&gt;how to control AIDS&lt;/a&gt;. I kept thinking that how can a person whom a huge part of the world population considers their leader, can he be so ignorant to say that "condoms can be harmful rather than being useful in preventing the AIDS epidemic"?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then yesterday when I was sitting in the train and watching the sunset, I remembered the words of a very religious friend of mind who feels that god paints these beautif&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://nomadcom.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2007/02/sciencevsfaith.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 313px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/ScV4H8NmpHI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/zZW5fxaYO4s/s400/sciencevsfaith.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315787012998341746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ul landscapes with his brush and colors. And this friend is actually a student of science. Then I suddenly realized that this whole Pope issue is not simple ignorance, it is actually a matter of belief. If someone believes that a disease is "god's punishment" and staying away from "sins" is the only foolproof way to not get sick, no wonder they will consider using protection to be a harmful thing. You see using protection gives freedom to do "sin" which means it will increase the chances of getting punished. Faith and belief does not need more logic than that. One just has to believe something in their heart and that becomes the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have nothing against religious people. Everyone has a right to choose what they want to believe and not believe. I just hope all his followers listen to every part of his suggestion. Those who stop using protection as per his instructions must also follow his suggestions of practicing abstinence, fidelity and heterosexuality. If they decide to follow only the first part, it is going to take a LOT of praying to cure a fatal disease like AIDS. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-8968566928293347531?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8968566928293347531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8968566928293347531&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8968566928293347531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8968566928293347531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2009/03/ignorant-or-utopian.html' title='Ignorant or utopian?'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/ScV4H8NmpHI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/zZW5fxaYO4s/s72-c/sciencevsfaith.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-4268318851655879601</id><published>2009-03-16T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T21:01:28.272-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Sad</title><content type='html'>My beloved macbook died on me last week without any notice :((&lt;div&gt;I have to change the broken hard disk and it should be new again, but unfortunately it will be too new. None of the data can be recovered unless I pay $1-2K!! Thankfully I have not been a total idiot and kept backup of the important stuff that I cannot live without and some more. But still there's so much more one accumulates in 5+ years. Maybe they are not important, maybe I would have never opened most of those files, but still can't get over the sadness of loosing them. Wish I had invested on an automatic backup device. Sigh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3653567789709016478-4268318851655879601?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4268318851655879601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=4268318851655879601&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4268318851655879601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4268318851655879601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2009/03/sad.html' title='Sad'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8109206369129099822</id><published>2009-01-30T14:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T15:00:23.139-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Comedy'/><title type='text'>Reasons for not wanting to be married</title><content type='html'>According to &lt;a href="http://j-walk.com/other/goodwife/images/goodwifeguide.gif"&gt;'The good wife's guide'&lt;/a&gt;, I will have to follow these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious  meal ready on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you  have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are  hungry when they get home and the prospect of a good meal is part of the warm  welcome needed. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he  arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking.  He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may  need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the  house just before your husband arrives. Run a dust-cloth over the tables. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;During the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for  him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and  order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering to his comfort will  provide you with immense personal satisfaction. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the  washer, dryer or vacuum. Encourage the children to be quiet. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Be happy to see him. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the  moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics  of conversation are more important than yours. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't greet him with complaints and problems. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't complain if he's late for dinner or even if he stays out all night.  Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through at work. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or lie him  down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing  and pleasant voice. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or  integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always  exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question  him. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A good wife always knows her place. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I surely cannot be one ever..or even close :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&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/3653567789709016478-8109206369129099822?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8109206369129099822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8109206369129099822&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8109206369129099822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8109206369129099822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2009/01/reasons-for-not-wanting-get-married.html' title='Reasons for not wanting to be married'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-6338371994799659550</id><published>2009-01-14T15:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T17:59:51.897-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Social issues'/><title type='text'>Replate</title><content type='html'>Just a little while back I was sitting outside and saw a homeless guy digging the nearby trash bins for leftover food. This made me immensely sad and guilty for being fortunate enough to have all the food I need to survive, and more.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks to my mom, I have always been against wasting food. She taught me to always take only the amount of food I really can eat. I sincerely follow that rule and try to make people around me do that too. But there are times when we are forced to buy in big portions and then have no other options except throwing away the leftovers in the trash. Today's incidence made me think if we could throw those leftovers in a way that the poor homeless people can get them without digging through the rotten trash cans. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I started looking up on the net. Some people suggested offering the food to a homeless person directly. This did not seem very practical to me. Firstly, I will probably not have enough time or motivation to look for a needy person at the time I have that extra food. And even if I do, the person I offer it to might feel insulted. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 297px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SW5vBTtSzYI/AAAAAAAAAJA/Tw4wcOejV1I/s320/replate_burrito-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291288680467713410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After some more searching I found this very simple yet very nice idea called '&lt;a href="http://www.replate.org/replate2.htm"&gt;Replate&lt;/a&gt;'. To replate is to place the unwanted leftovers on top of the trash can that has a lid or next to it if doesn't have a lid. It will be nicer if it can be kept wrapped in a paper bag, say the bag in which the food came in originally. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There can be many &lt;a href="http://www.replate.org/replate3.htm"&gt;critics and concerns&lt;/a&gt; about this practice. But until we find a better solution, this seems like a doable idea to me. If others agree with me, then from now on please remember to replate instead of throwing away those half eaten lunches.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-6338371994799659550?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/6338371994799659550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=6338371994799659550&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6338371994799659550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6338371994799659550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2009/01/replate.html' title='Replate'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SW5vBTtSzYI/AAAAAAAAAJA/Tw4wcOejV1I/s72-c/replate_burrito-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-922370644891252204</id><published>2009-01-12T19:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T19:33:48.507-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Postdoc life'/><title type='text'>And I need to breathe</title><content type='html'>It's only Monday night and I am already exhausted. I want to go to an &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oxygen_bar"&gt;oxygen bar&lt;/a&gt; and inhale some strawberry flavored oxygen :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best friend D suggested going to some random bar..the standard alcohol-serving type, getting seriously drunk and having an one-night stand with any random guy I meet in the bar. Who needs enemies when there are such friends around!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-922370644891252204?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/922370644891252204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=922370644891252204&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/922370644891252204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/922370644891252204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2009/01/and-i-need-to-breathe.html' title='And I need to breathe'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-254250412554366875</id><published>2009-01-09T10:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T10:58:46.052-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Postdoc life'/><title type='text'>Imagination is the key</title><content type='html'>"Imagination is more important than knowledge, for knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand."&lt;div&gt;--Albert Einstein.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I know why it is so difficult at times to do what I think should be easy to do. Imagination. That's what I need. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you sir for your great words of wisdom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/3653567789709016478-254250412554366875?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/254250412554366875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=254250412554366875&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/254250412554366875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/254250412554366875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2009/01/imagination-is-key.html' title='Imagination is the key'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-7925969100760401846</id><published>2008-12-31T09:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T09:11:12.514-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><title type='text'>Goodbye 2008</title><content type='html'>You have been especially good to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of most years, I feel that I had some good and bad times but nothing has really changed in my life. But you were different. I will remember you as that special year when I:&lt;br /&gt;Got my doctorate degree.&lt;br /&gt;Published my first two academic papers.&lt;br /&gt;Got my first post doc job.&lt;br /&gt;Moved to a new city.&lt;br /&gt;Started an almost real life with J.&lt;br /&gt;Started a new blog (and even managed to complete half-century just in time!)&lt;br /&gt;And last but not the least, witnessed a historical change in world politics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you have not been good to everyone around the world. Apart from the illnesses, heartaches and bad lucks, a lot of people lost their lives, loved ones, jobs, possessions, rights and faith this year due to senseless terrorism, wars, natural calamities, crashing economies and other such evils.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope the new year brings happy changes..and only happy changes..in my life, in every one's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome 2009!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-7925969100760401846?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/7925969100760401846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=7925969100760401846&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7925969100760401846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7925969100760401846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/12/goodbye-2008.html' title='Goodbye 2008'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-4860279725112897972</id><published>2008-12-28T13:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T13:20:08.829-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Blocked</title><content type='html'>Need to write 2 manuscripts, 1 abstract, 1 progress report.&lt;br /&gt;Can't make myself write a single word in spite of sitting at home and getting utterly bored.&lt;br /&gt;Thought will try to break the writer's block by blogging.&lt;br /&gt;Can't think of anything to write here either!&lt;br /&gt;What's wrong with me??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-4860279725112897972?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4860279725112897972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=4860279725112897972&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4860279725112897972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4860279725112897972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/12/blocked.html' title='Blocked'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-2466923416886206302</id><published>2008-11-08T15:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T17:02:47.470-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Social issues'/><title type='text'>Marriage: Shouldn't it be a happy subject?</title><content type='html'>Majority of Californian citizens voted in favor of banning gay marriage in the state. Protests and rallies are being held against this decision all over the state and media is having a field day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This whole issue brought up some random thoughts in my mind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one hand more and more heterosexual couples who have right to get married, do not care about getting married. And on the other hand, homosexual couples who want to, are not allowed to. It seems sadly funny that we always want what we can't have and don't want the things that we can have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like a hypocrisy too that the people who are banning gay-marriage are not banning pre-marital sex, adultery and divorce. Aren't these against the 'holy institution of marriage' as well?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't we live our lives on our own ideals and let others do the same? Is that so difficult to do or is it that we just love fighting against each other to keep our lives from getting peacefully boring? I think its the second one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-2466923416886206302?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2466923416886206302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=2466923416886206302&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2466923416886206302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2466923416886206302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/11/marriage-shouldnt-it-be-happy-subject.html' title='Marriage: Shouldn&apos;t it be a happy subject?'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-2689409507824360019</id><published>2008-11-04T20:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T21:06:23.975-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Social issues'/><title type='text'>Yay for President Obama!!!</title><content type='html'>..and yay to Ohio that finally turned blue..and of course to a very blue California. This year no one can make fun of me anymore as many did in 2004.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only one regret:&lt;br /&gt;Wish I could vote for him today :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to all the people who did..all over the country!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-2689409507824360019?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2689409507824360019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=2689409507824360019&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2689409507824360019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2689409507824360019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/11/yay-for-president-obama.html' title='Yay for President Obama!!!'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-6270018972754504267</id><published>2008-10-03T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T18:20:04.779-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men-women'/><title type='text'>Men will be men</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SObEEOUpmmI/AAAAAAAAAIA/XnpAuKLN3-k/s1600-h/flower"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SObEEOUpmmI/AAAAAAAAAIA/XnpAuKLN3-k/s320/flower" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253101592217492066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obama tells journalists that today is his 15th wedding anniversary, when its actually 16th.&lt;br /&gt;Ouch! Even the best of the lot can't be trusted when it comes to silly romantic things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least he bought a nice bouquet for his wife :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-6270018972754504267?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/6270018972754504267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=6270018972754504267&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6270018972754504267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6270018972754504267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/10/men-will-be-men.html' title='Men will be men'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SObEEOUpmmI/AAAAAAAAAIA/XnpAuKLN3-k/s72-c/flower' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-9140451128207323449</id><published>2008-09-29T18:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T18:36:53.561-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><title type='text'>Durga Puja and me</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I don’t believe in religion and their rituals. But anyone who has lived in Bengal or attended any Durga puja celebration even outside Bengal will know that these celebrations have very little to do with religion for most people. It is about taking time off from mundane daily life, dressing up, meeting friends and extended family, eating to heart’s content and so on. So being born a Bengali, Durga puja has been an integral part of my life. But with time my feelings towards this festival has changed again and again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;When I was a kid Durga puja meant lots of new clothes, no studies for 5 days and spending all these days in the Bengali Club of wherever we were living those days. My mom would dress me up early in the morning and then I was free to run around all day with the few Bengali friends I had in these places. It meant eating all kinds of good food and attending the cultural programs. The last part was kind of boring but since my mom always performed, so I was kind of proud to be given front row seats and all and stayed put for few hours without giving my parents any trouble. Overall it seemed to be really ‘special time’ and I used to eagerly wait for these few days of the year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Things changed as I grew up and by the time I was in high school and college, the ‘special time’ feeling was lost. In spite of living in Calcutta at that time, I had absolutely no interest in participating in the madness going around. I still got lots of new clothes but going shopping in the crowded stored seemed like a crazy idea and the only reason I went shopping is because my mom dragged me to the shops. Having no classes was fun especially in college when I got full one-month holiday!! During the 5 days of puja I would mostly sit at home watching tv or reading &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Puja barshikis &lt;/span&gt;(big fat compilation of brand new novels, short and long stories, poetry, articles etc. that the various publishing houses bring out at this time of the year). At night I would sit in my 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;rd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; floor balcony in my PJs, watching the mad crowd passing by. Joining them seemed like the stupidest thing to do, and only severe blackmails from my parents and close friends could occasionally make me go out for pandal-hopping or eating out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Then I moved to US to join grad school. Attending Indian functions was not at all on my mind when I was excitedly packing my bags before moving. But after 2 months of moving, it was Durga puja time. And suddenly I felt really sad that I was sitting in a class or lab and I can’t go shopping for new clothes, I can’t go out with friends for pandal hopping, I can’t eat all the junk street food. To my own surprise I was missing the crowd, the noise and the whole madness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I spent all day looking at online puja tours of the famous pujas in Calcutta, the same ones that I never bothered to go to when I was living there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Then some seniors in my university mentioned that they are driving down some 2 hours to attend the nearest puja the next weekend. Even before they could ask me, I was totally ready to go with them. Luckily I found two old salwar kameezes at the bottom of my suitcase. Got up early on a Saturday morning, wore one of the two clothes I found, rode with my friends all the way to the neighboring state and spent an ENTIRE DAY at that place. The most amazing part to me was that I was thoroughly enjoying the Americanized version of the well-known festival. All the ridiculously over-dressed people who changed clothes every few hours (as 5 days of puja was compressed into 1 day), one whole afternoon of Bengali cultural program with kids reciting Bengali poetry in American accent, the insane amount of food every few hours (again because of the compressed schedule) and even some of the religious rituals…everything seemed lovely, cute and fun. The ‘special time’ feeling was back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;But as the years passed everything seemed routine, predictable and boring. Every year I made sure to bring Indian clothes from home (even made others bring some the years when I couldn’t go home) and drove hours to attend the nearest ceremony, but all that seemed to be more because of not wanting to be counted as an outcast among the few good Bengali friends I had in the small town. I didn’t feel sad about being at work on the actual puja days or I didn’t spend time online watching the webcam tours anymore. The ‘special time’ feeling started to wear off again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Its that time of the year again. I moved 2 months ago to a new city. I don’t have any Bengali friends here. And suddenly once again I’m sad. This weekend I did google search and discovered that there are 4-5 pujas within 50 miles radius of my home throughout this month (one even on the actual dates instead of a compressed weekend version!), I have one suitcase packed with Indian clothes accumulated from last few years, but I have no Bengali friends to go with. And suddenly once again I feel sad. Since last two days I’m missing all the things I did in that 1-day compressed Americanized Durga Puja during my grad school days. Some famous Bengali band was performing in one of the puja venues here last night. I felt sad that I am not attending it even though I don’t even know a single song by them and I’m pretty sure I won’t care about them even if I knew one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;But I kept playing random Bengali songs on youtube all of Sunday morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I think this has somewhat scared J. He gave a feeble hint that he might be willing to go with me to one of these places next week. Poor J…he avoids such social functions much more than I do. He doesn’t even go to Onam celebrations in spite of the temptations of his favorite Malayali food! Let’s see what happens next weekend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Happy festive times everyone! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-9140451128207323449?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/9140451128207323449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=9140451128207323449&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/9140451128207323449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/9140451128207323449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/09/durga-puja-and-me.html' title='Durga Puja and me'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-4679639191983922082</id><published>2008-09-16T15:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T15:32:00.680-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><title type='text'>Demands and Expectations</title><content type='html'>A friend of mine broke-up with her bf couple of weeks ago. Another friend and I were talking about this sad situation today and this other friend said about the first girl "She was too demanding and expected too much from him. They were dating only for a year. One can't be demanding and expect their partner to give their 100% (will do anything and everything for you type of commitment) in such early stage of a relationship."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Does that mean one can be demanding and have higher expectations after few years of relationship? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I personally think one cannot. We do so just because we get more comfortable 'demanding' and 'expecting' things but I'm sure the effect is never good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do more experienced people say? In few years can I expect J to really stop reading slashdot when I am telling him about some very interesting piece of gossip?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-4679639191983922082?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4679639191983922082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=4679639191983922082&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4679639191983922082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4679639191983922082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/09/demands-and-expectations.html' title='Demands and Expectations'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-4754162987634829289</id><published>2008-09-12T17:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T18:25:22.336-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='People'/><title type='text'>Formula of success</title><content type='html'>A is an intelligent, hardworking person.&lt;br /&gt;B is equally intelligent and hardworking, if not more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A is very successful in life, personal and professional.&lt;br /&gt;B is not much so in either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A is a jolly person and always nice to everyone, even when others don't deserve niceness.&lt;br /&gt;B is always grumpy, even when others are nice to him/her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One would think that the reason of A's niceness is because of his/her successful life, whereas B is bitter because life has not been sweet to him/her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have a strong feeling, its the other way around. I think I agree with whoever said "Success is not the key to happiness, happiness is the key to success."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-4754162987634829289?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4754162987634829289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=4754162987634829289&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4754162987634829289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4754162987634829289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/09/formula-of-success.html' title='Formula of success'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-1110953162648831873</id><published>2008-08-26T19:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T20:05:02.929-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Postdoc life'/><title type='text'>Looking for parking in Berkeley?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SLS_3bWJ--I/AAAAAAAAAH4/ypTT1LwEtLk/s1600-h/Picture+084.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SLS_3bWJ--I/AAAAAAAAAH4/ypTT1LwEtLk/s400/Picture+084.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239023225493126114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                    &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(NL: Nobel Laureate)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get a Nobel Prize :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-1110953162648831873?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/1110953162648831873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=1110953162648831873&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1110953162648831873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1110953162648831873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/08/it-happens-only-in-berkeley.html' title='Looking for parking in Berkeley?'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SLS_3bWJ--I/AAAAAAAAAH4/ypTT1LwEtLk/s72-c/Picture+084.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-2758592756933363540</id><published>2008-08-07T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T17:58:22.253-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Postdoc life'/><title type='text'>Postdoc life begins..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SJuXu0Y7ouI/AAAAAAAAAHw/i4TcLaoEqsQ/s1600-h/scientist.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SJuXu0Y7ouI/AAAAAAAAAHw/i4TcLaoEqsQ/s400/scientist.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231942222713955042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is what the safety training people in my new job think of scientists and they are making very sure that I don't become one :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-2758592756933363540?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2758592756933363540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=2758592756933363540&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2758592756933363540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2758592756933363540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/08/getting-trained-to-be-scientist.html' title='Postdoc life begins..'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SJuXu0Y7ouI/AAAAAAAAAHw/i4TcLaoEqsQ/s72-c/scientist.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8873183213006572659</id><published>2008-07-28T11:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T11:00:01.873-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><title type='text'>New home</title><content type='html'>So after a real hectic move in a very short time I am finally in California!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a lot to be excited about. Being near J, new job, lovely weather, city life with public transport and actual restaurants. But the thing that I am most excited about is that there is a hindi movie theater just walking distance from my new home! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I can live here :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-8873183213006572659?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8873183213006572659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8873183213006572659&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8873183213006572659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8873183213006572659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/07/new-home.html' title='New home'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8951159734330694273</id><published>2008-07-16T10:48:00.009-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T12:19:49.922-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Social issues'/><title type='text'>The mother-in-law gene</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I went to lunch with my host family (a local American family who volunteers to help international students during their stay in this university). The family consists of an old lady (S), her daughters, son and daughter-in-law (V).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now S is a really nice person. She is extremely helpful, never judgmental or interfering, always politically correct, highly intellectual and well-read (knows much more about Indian history and current affairs than I do!) and an activist for social and environmental causes. In simple words, she is someone whom anyone can instantly respect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V was my fellow PhD student who completed her degree just couple of months ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During our lunch yesterday, I was amazed to see that S kept making V feel bad about the fact that she does not have a post doc offer and highlighting that I have one. I know how bad it feels when you don't have a job and people ask about it, let alone compare with someone else. I can only imagine how bad she felt when a family member was embarrassing her in front of an outsider. V just sat there quietly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not that S has reasons to be ashamed of V. V is very intelligent (she actually made me nervous with her knowledge during a class we took together and she even co-authors a paper in &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nature_%28journal%29"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nature&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;!!). Its just that she can afford to be picky about the job (she doesn't have to worry about visa issues) and so she is taking her time to find the best possible option.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing that made me angrier is when one of her daughters came back to town couple of years ago after resigning from her job, S was just too happy to have her back and even let her stay with her for many months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would think someone like S will be equally nice to her daughter and daughter-in-law, but I felt that the mother-in-law gene can get activated even in the nicest women. Sigh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-8951159734330694273?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8951159734330694273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8951159734330694273&amp;isPopup=true' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8951159734330694273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8951159734330694273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/07/mother-in-law-gene.html' title='The mother-in-law gene'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-2915913540398484141</id><published>2008-07-10T16:59:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T17:05:21.591-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>I got what I really wanted!</title><content type='html'>Five signatures on a sheet of paper that says I have a doctoral degree now. :D&lt;br /&gt;Yipppeee!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-2915913540398484141?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2915913540398484141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=2915913540398484141&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2915913540398484141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2915913540398484141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-got-what-i-really-wanted.html' title='I got what I really wanted!'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-1983234585050299143</id><published>2008-07-08T10:27:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T10:34:49.378-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men-women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reel life'/><title type='text'>Do you know what you really want?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDhYJhlr8l4&amp;amp;eurl=http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=revlon+alba+ad&amp;amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;amp;oe=UTF-8&amp;amp;rls=org.mozilla:en-US:officialiurl=http://i.ytimg.com/vi/ZDhYJhlr8l4/default.jpg"&gt; Asks&lt;/a&gt; Jessica Alba in a very motivating tone. She answers her own question. She says what she really wants is a foundation that matches her skin color.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonderful thing to achieve definitely, but hard to believe that's all she wants :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish we girls had such simple needs. Really!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-1983234585050299143?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/1983234585050299143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=1983234585050299143&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1983234585050299143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1983234585050299143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/07/do-you-know-what-you-really-want.html' title='Do you know what you really want?'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-6178104274917774213</id><published>2008-07-04T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T08:39:51.391-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><title type='text'>Physics</title><content type='html'>"Distance makes the heart grow fonder."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens when the distance decreases?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-6178104274917774213?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/6178104274917774213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=6178104274917774213&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6178104274917774213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6178104274917774213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/07/physics.html' title='Physics'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-2039134825405366458</id><published>2008-06-29T17:25:00.008-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T05:49:00.260-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tag'/><title type='text'>Secret life of P</title><content type='html'>Ok finally I could make myself type again!&lt;br /&gt;After typing 30,000+ words, I didn't think I would ever again &lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" height="15" width="15" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yessss..I submitted my dissertation 3 days ago :)&lt;br /&gt;Final defense is in two weeks and I should be dead scared right now, but I guess my brain is still numb to feel  anything. &lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" height="15" width="15" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while I'm in this numb state of mind, I think I will do the 'Secrets' tag for &lt;a href="http://poosaysso.blogspot.com/"&gt;Poo&lt;/a&gt;. I am very secretive and might not be able to confess my deep dark secrets in a normal state of mind &lt;img style="width: 15px; height: 15px;" class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so I am supposed to tell 10 secrets about me. Since no one in the blog world knows me personally, pretty much anything I write will be new. But I will try to think of some "true" secrets. After all, the whole purpose of my blogging is to write down things that I can't say out loud. So here it goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. People around me know that I am very close to my parents, but no one knows that how possessive I am about them. I am the only child and used to getting all their attention. So anytime my cousins or any other kid came to visit us, I used to be very, very jealous. I would pray that they leave soon and do all kind of tantrums (like faking sickness) to get attention &lt;img style="width: 15px; height: 15px;" class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" /&gt;. To be honest, I still feel little jealous when they keep talking about their 6 year old neighbor. &lt;img style="width: 15px; height: 15px;" class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SGgimPyZGZI/AAAAAAAAAHo/wiaHgu0qq48/s1600-h/strepsils.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 161px; height: 105px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SGgimPyZGZI/AAAAAAAAAHo/wiaHgu0qq48/s200/strepsils.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217458208776984978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;2. When I was 6-7 years old, I stole (as in took without asking) a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strepsils"&gt;Strepsils&lt;/a&gt; from my neighbor's desk. I thought it was a biiiig &lt;a href="http://www.parleproducts.com/brands/confectionaries_poppins.asp"&gt;Poppins&lt;/a&gt; and was kind of angry at my neighbor for not sharing it with me. So I decided to help myself. If you ever had a Strepsils in your life, you probably can imagine how I was punished for my bad deed. &lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" height="15" width="15" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I am very adventurous with food. I can eat (may not always like it) anything that doesn't appear gross and that another human being next to me is eating. Some of the weird things I ate when none of my friends wanted to try are bheja fry (fried goat brain), frog legs and chicken gizzard. I must say they tasted pretty good :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Talking of eating, one of my regular nightmares is that I have lost some of my teeth!! I have no idea why I get this nightmare all the time. Anyone knows dream analysis?&lt;br /&gt;The other nightmare that I get often is being unimaginably late for something (class, train, plane, etc.). I think subconsciously I hate my habit of doing all things on the eleventh hour. &lt;img style="width: 15px; height: 15px;" class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I don't remember any of my good dreams after I wake up, but I remember all my daydreams. As my profile says, I am a compulsive daydreamer. I think about future a lot and to the finest details. The fun part is that a lot of my daydreams have come true to the minutest details :) For example, long before I decided about my career I simply dreamt of working in US. I would imagine different professions at different times, but every time I will imagine living in an apartment in some place of US with a roommate, doing all chores myself etc. It was like deja vu when I first arrived in US and started living with my first roomie :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Currently I live alone. Some of my friends think I must be very unhappy to be living by myself. But actually I love, love, love living alone. I always did. Anytime my parents went out for the day, I used to feel like the king (ok queen). The last two years have been the happiest time of my life. And to tell you a bigger secret, I am really scared to move to CA because very soon I might be living with J and won't have the whole house to myself :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. My friends were very surprised when they heard about J for the first time because I never showed interest in dating. They thought of me as the most unromantic person. What they don't know is I have been a hopeless romantic since ever and always believed in the 'someone somewhere' philosophy :) I just don't believe in casual dating or kissing every frog coming my way. &lt;img style="width: 15px; height: 15px;" class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. My first major crush was on a neighbor. He was the heart-throb of all girls in my school and he was quite a casanova too. To him I was just the ugly kid whom he has to (against his wishes) escort to school everyday :) Now we are friends though and he even calls himself my 'fan' on orkut. &lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_biggrin.gif" alt="biggrin" title="biggrin" height="15" width="15" /&gt; I don't have any romantic feelings for him anymore, but I still feel happy whenever he writes to me. &lt;img style="width: 15px; height: 15px;" class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I always loved going to school (duh..that's why I am still in school). But, I hated going to my music school. I love music and singing, but the problem was that my mom sent me to an Indian classical music class and I totally hated it. So every Sunday I will have fake stomach aches, cough and one time I even tried getting a fever by putting an onion under my arms (got the idea from some brilliant bollywood movie &lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_biggrin.gif" alt="biggrin" title="biggrin" height="15" width="15" /&gt;). Sometimes my tricks worked too! The other times, I would go to the class and lie to the teacher that we had guests at home and that is why I couldn't do my homework (i.e. practice the aa-aa-aas). I never had to lie about my school homework though :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SGghKBJf0rI/AAAAAAAAAHg/1RYB_oL2IDI/s1600-h/IMG_0070+copy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 104px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SGghKBJf0rI/AAAAAAAAAHg/1RYB_oL2IDI/s200/IMG_0070+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217456624299397810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;10. My profile says that I am ambitious. The secret here is that I have some crazy ambitions, such as being part of research projects that will take me to space or Antarctica or get me a Nobel Prize!! For now, I feel happy knowing profs who have achieved these or hold a cardboard cutout of the Nobel Prize. &lt;img style="width: 15px; height: 15px;" class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pheeww....thinking of 10 secrets is more difficult than I thought!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think everyone I know has already done this tag. If not, please consider yourself tagged and share your deep dark secrets too. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-2039134825405366458?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2039134825405366458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=2039134825405366458&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2039134825405366458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2039134825405366458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/06/secret-life-of-p.html' title='Secret life of P'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SGgimPyZGZI/AAAAAAAAAHo/wiaHgu0qq48/s72-c/strepsils.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-761499206162614606</id><published>2008-06-19T22:51:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T10:08:13.711-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Internet'/><title type='text'>Wrong number</title><content type='html'>In the past month at least half a dozen visitors to my blog landed here by searching for 'dump a man' or 'dump a married man'!!&lt;br /&gt;Google seems to have mixed up the name of my blog and a &lt;a href="http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/02/mind-of-married-man.html"&gt;post&lt;/a&gt; I did on a TV series called 'The mind of the married man' :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are one of those readers, I'm sorry to say I cannot be of any help to you. I have absolutely no experience with married men or dumping any kind of men. I only dump my thoughts here and occasionally make fun of my very single man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Google engineers, if you happen to be reading this by any chance, can you please do something to stop such mix-ups?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-761499206162614606?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/761499206162614606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=761499206162614606&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/761499206162614606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/761499206162614606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/06/wrong-number.html' title='Wrong number'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-490245589677383696</id><published>2008-06-13T20:55:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-13T21:25:22.663-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>Lucky Friday the 13th</title><content type='html'>6 black blobs on a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Western_blot"&gt;Western blot&lt;/a&gt; makes P the happiest girl on the planet :D&lt;br /&gt;Yooohoooooo!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-490245589677383696?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/490245589677383696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=490245589677383696&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/490245589677383696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/490245589677383696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/06/lucky-friday-13th.html' title='Lucky Friday the 13th'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-2548156924284353036</id><published>2008-06-08T12:51:00.008-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T05:49:00.583-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tag'/><title type='text'>Spreading the nerdism</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Tagged by another geeky grad student &lt;a href="http://mm-mm-mm-good.blogspot.com/"&gt;Solitaire&lt;/a&gt;. This is a fun tag about books. But, unfortunately the 'fun' part goes missing from the life of grad students :(&lt;br /&gt;You can skip to the &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;red&lt;/span&gt; paragraph in the end if you are interested in some guessing games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so here are the rules of the game:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1. Pick up the nearest book.&lt;br /&gt;2. Open to page 123.&lt;br /&gt;3. Find the fifth sentence.&lt;br /&gt;4. Post the next three sentences.&lt;br /&gt;5. Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have two text books just next to my computer right now. I picked one and guess what, page 123 has a full page graph and and only two sentences in the caption!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi hi..very tempting opportunity to stop, but I decided to try the second one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here are the 6th, 7th and 8th sentences on page 123 from 'Programmed Cell Death in Plants' by John Gray:&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SEw6XR53WfI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/whrtFYFH8Xs/s1600-h/book.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SEw6XR53WfI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/whrtFYFH8Xs/s400/book.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209603040578329074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"E2F homologs of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Arabidopsis&lt;/span&gt; build a small gene family with three members (Vandepoele &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;et al&lt;/span&gt;., 2002).&lt;br /&gt;Constitutive misexpression of E2Fa resulted in enlarged cotyledons due to prolonged cell proliferation (see also Figure 5.1 De Veylder &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;et al&lt;/span&gt;., 2002).&lt;br /&gt;The proliferation rate was dramatically increased when the E2F cofactor, DPa, was coexpressed."&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Sounds like a foreign language? You are not alone. Doesn't make much sense to me either :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Ok let's make this game little interactive for my non-specialist friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;I'm posting the cover of the book. Can anyone guess what the picture is of? (Hint: It is of course a plant part, and it is taken by a very powerful microscope that can make micro-nano millimeter sized things look life-size).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not tagging anyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-2548156924284353036?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2548156924284353036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=2548156924284353036&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2548156924284353036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2548156924284353036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/06/tagged-by-another-geeky-grad-student.html' title='Spreading the nerdism'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SEw6XR53WfI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/whrtFYFH8Xs/s72-c/book.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-3128680018600647181</id><published>2008-06-05T09:47:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T12:43:47.148-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mr. J'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men-women'/><title type='text'>What goes around comes around</title><content type='html'>Conversation between me and J sometime in 2005-06:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; I love the song '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Koi faryad&lt;/span&gt;' from '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tum bin&lt;/span&gt;'. Have you heard of it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J:&lt;/span&gt; Yeah. Nice song but don't remember the details. What is special about it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; Well, other than the fact that it is a Jagjit Singh song and picturized on Priyanshu Chatterjee, I like the subtle romance in it. Even the dialogues in between are so nice. There is a scene in the hospital where Priyanshu says to Sandali "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Janta hun apko saharey ki zarurat nahi, main sirf saath dene aaya hun&lt;/span&gt; (I know you do not need any support, I just came here to give you company)". I love his sensitivity and respect for the girl's independent nature!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J:&lt;/span&gt; Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAST FORWARD....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation between me and J last night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; I am fed up with so much nonsense work &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(was referring to all the official work related to graduation, OPT application, job application and things that I will need to do when I move after graduation)&lt;/span&gt;. You are happily sitting 2000 miles away. Why don't you come here and do at least some of the 'manly' work for me? I will need to get rid of some heavy furniture, get my car serviced etc. etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J:&lt;/span&gt; Hmm. But I thought you want to be independent and don't want anyone to support you. Remember you told me about that song! I call you everyday. See, I'm being so sensitive and respectful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does he remember only the things that he can use against me??&lt;br /&gt;But yes, considering he calls his parents once a week and his friends twice a year, one call EVERYDAY is quite sensitive :p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-3128680018600647181?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/3128680018600647181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=3128680018600647181&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/3128680018600647181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/3128680018600647181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/06/what-goes-around-comes-around.html' title='What goes around comes around'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-7758914687395811500</id><published>2008-06-04T09:27:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T09:36:25.400-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><title type='text'>Happy to be alive</title><content type='html'>I have been cribbing about work and all other problems. Today, I'm just thankful I'm alive and safe. What made me so grateful?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A tornado hit our area last night. My labmate and I were on the road when her fiance called and warned us that a tornado warning has been issued for our area. We were still about 15 minutes away from home. We were really scared because there was hardly any place to take shelter on either side of the road. The frequency of lightning and amount of rain kept increasing as we kept getting closer to our town. I don't know how I managed to keep driving with minimum visibility, hail hitting our car and a very shaky leg :) Finally we found a office to take shelter in. The care taker of the office was really nice, let us and few others in. We were sitting in their basement listening to the radio until the storm passed by. Some reports say that it touched down lightly just about a mile from where we were! No major harm done. Some uprooted trees and light posts and power failure in some areas. We came back home but the siren kept going on for another hour and news reporters kept telling that there might be another one coming. I was really scared all night. Was sitting in the middle of the house away from the windows and calling my friends and family. Went to sleep thinking that I might wake up in a different place :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately I woke up in the same place :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am happy today to be not blown away and really grateful that no one was harmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And among all this, a dear friend, who has been like my elder sister since the day I arrived in this alien place, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is strange but not bad :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-7758914687395811500?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/7758914687395811500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=7758914687395811500&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7758914687395811500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7758914687395811500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/06/happy-to-be-alive.html' title='Happy to be alive'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-7778498998331956783</id><published>2008-06-03T08:26:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T05:49:00.765-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>Calvin knows best</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SEVixlF0vcI/AAAAAAAAAHA/OdHQsVPnzgw/s1600-h/calvin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SEVixlF0vcI/AAAAAAAAAHA/OdHQsVPnzgw/s400/calvin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207677148033498562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Time to get back to 'inflating weak ideas, obscuring poor reasoning and inhibiting clarity'. Sigh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-7778498998331956783?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/7778498998331956783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=7778498998331956783&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7778498998331956783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7778498998331956783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/06/calvin-knows-best.html' title='Calvin knows best'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SEVixlF0vcI/AAAAAAAAAHA/OdHQsVPnzgw/s72-c/calvin.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8363625662623613475</id><published>2008-05-29T22:32:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T13:40:50.328-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tag'/><title type='text'>Current status</title><content type='html'>I am excited!! Reason: I was tagged for the first time, by cute little &lt;a href="http://poosaysso.blogspot.com/"&gt;Poo&lt;/a&gt;. Even more exciting is the fact that this is a brand new tag that she created herself. I love novelty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here it goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Reading:&lt;/span&gt; Journals, journals and more journals :( Blogs are my only non-work read these days. Sitting on my table to be read next are 'Unaccustomed earth' by Jhumpa Lahiri, 'The Idiot' by Fyodor Doetoevsky and 'The Day of the Jackal' by Frederick Forsyth. Guess they have to wait till August :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Finished reading:&lt;/span&gt; Haven't read a real book since Feb. Squeezed in 'One night at the call center' by Chetan Bhagat few weeks ago though. Didn't like it at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Listening to:&lt;/span&gt; 'Viva la vida' by Coldplay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Wearing:&lt;/span&gt; Nah, you don't need to know that :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Watching:&lt;/span&gt; All the shows I watched got over last week. Right now the movie 'Save the last dance' is playing on TV. Have seen it a dozen times. So not really watching. Just looking at Sean Patrick Thomas and Julia Stiles and their smooth moves :) Planning to watch 'Sex and the city' movie as soon as I can find some girls to go with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Thinking:&lt;/span&gt; Too tired to think. Effect of a late afternoon 2 hour lo&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ng brainstorming(!!!) session with the adviser :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Loving:&lt;/span&gt; The lovely weather. Hope it stays for some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Hating:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span&gt;Everyone who is going home or any other vacation for summer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Missing:&lt;/span&gt;  Being around people. Seems like I talk to people through phone or net more these days!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Wishing:&lt;/span&gt; That I wake up to find that it is August. All work gets magically done while I was sleeping and the only thing I have to think about is how will I look in the graduation gown :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Hoping:&lt;/span&gt; To move to California in few months!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Craving:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span&gt;UDF's 'Black raspberry choco chip' ice cream. I will surely miss this one thing when I leave Ohio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, that was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are still reading, then surely you liked it too. So, now you are tagged to do this too :D&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/3653567789709016478-8363625662623613475?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8363625662623613475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8363625662623613475&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8363625662623613475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8363625662623613475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/05/current-status.html' title='Current status'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-7145329266206309361</id><published>2008-05-24T22:35:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T05:49:00.985-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>Correlation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SDj6hP8EGaI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Yw9ig8ShOCo/s1600-h/choc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SDj6hP8EGaI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Yw9ig8ShOCo/s400/choc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204184818547693986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-7145329266206309361?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/7145329266206309361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=7145329266206309361&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7145329266206309361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7145329266206309361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/05/correlation.html' title='Correlation'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/SDj6hP8EGaI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Yw9ig8ShOCo/s72-c/choc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-881918642581666192</id><published>2008-05-21T22:03:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T22:31:45.487-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reel life'/><title type='text'>He had me at 'Hello'</title><content type='html'>Ok it's past 10 p.m. in Pacific time zone and so now I can express my happiness for David C. without spoiling anyone's suspense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been rooting (and yes also voting) for him since he sang 'Hello' on Week 3 of American Idol. I think very highly of David A. too, specially his flawless voice, but he is just too cute and sugary for my taste. Rough and tough rock star with a sensitive side..ah that works for me better. And that is what Mr. Cook is :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congrats David Cook!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-881918642581666192?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/881918642581666192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=881918642581666192&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/881918642581666192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/881918642581666192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/05/he-had-me-at-hello.html' title='He had me at &apos;Hello&apos;'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-329304562358400042</id><published>2008-05-20T13:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T13:52:13.578-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>I feel rewarded</title><content type='html'>Two of my students from Spring semester found me on Facebook.&lt;br /&gt;One of them said he misses my class every Tuesday! He also said that he enjoyed learning the things I taught in the second half of the semester and regrets that he didn't take serious interest from the beginning of the semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel I have achieved one of my teaching missions today: making a student (that too a non-major student) interested in learning the subject.&lt;br /&gt;They usually are only interested in completing the course as a degree requirement. Some of them are also interested in the grades sometimes :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-329304562358400042?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/329304562358400042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=329304562358400042&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/329304562358400042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/329304562358400042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-feel-rewarded.html' title='I feel rewarded'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-4942476927455396270</id><published>2008-05-16T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T14:16:35.147-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><title type='text'>To tell or not to?</title><content type='html'>Me and some of my friends are in a big dilemma. All of us think that one of our friends is with a wrong guy and her decision to marry him is the biggest mistake of her life. But none of us know how to or even whether to tell her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have heard it from couple of elderly people that they did not comment on their children's choice of partner in spite of having a bad feeling (which eventually proved to be true) because "everyone has to learn from their own mistakes".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I'm thinking if we see a loved one walking blindly towards a speeding car, we scream and warn them because we do not want them to get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it only physical injury about which we can warn against, but we have to let them suffer and learn when it comes to emotional injury?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think that a loved one is choosing a wrong life partner, do you/will you tell them?&lt;br /&gt;If your friends tell you that you are choosing a wrong life partner, will you appreciate that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-4942476927455396270?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4942476927455396270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=4942476927455396270&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4942476927455396270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4942476927455396270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/05/to-tell-or-not-to.html' title='To tell or not to?'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8223533698280427486</id><published>2008-05-04T12:31:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T14:32:01.158-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='People'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><title type='text'>How important are brand names?</title><content type='html'>My friend N and I have these long 'nonsense' conversations every now and then. Last night during one such session, she offered me to take her boyfriend because it seemed like I have more things in common with T than she has. &lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" height="15" width="15" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I said "No thanks" and to that she said "You are saying no to an ex-IITian!!! Poor T, he will be crushed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I can understand if T feels crushed because a girl said no to a 'nice guy' like him but what's with the brand names? How does getting a degree from a good school makes someone irresistible as a companion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know a good education can mean that there are better chances of having financial security and intelligent conversations, but my personal experience says that a great professional resume is no guarantee of a great human being. And I know a few 'famous school' graduates who liked '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Welcome&lt;/span&gt;' more than '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Taare Zameen Par&lt;/span&gt;'. So there goes the intellectual conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope N didn't say 'yes' to T because of the IIT tag!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-8223533698280427486?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8223533698280427486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8223533698280427486&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8223533698280427486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8223533698280427486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-friend-n-and-i-have-these-long.html' title='How important are brand names?'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-1696592903784696495</id><published>2008-05-02T23:21:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T00:18:49.226-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>"What you don't have you don't need it now"</title><content type='html'>I wish I could be that optimistic, but I am totally unable to make myself feel so today.&lt;br /&gt;I desperately need two things that I don't have now: a successful experiment and a job offer.&lt;br /&gt;When will that beautiful day come?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-1696592903784696495?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/1696592903784696495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=1696592903784696495&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1696592903784696495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/1696592903784696495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/05/what-you-dont-have-you-dont-need-it-now.html' title='&quot;What you don&apos;t have you don&apos;t need it now&quot;'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-3781210796430565708</id><published>2008-04-22T09:39:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T16:22:44.804-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Social issues'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='People'/><title type='text'>The other extreme</title><content type='html'>In my previous post, I mentioned that we should not give up on a relationship when maybe putting in some extra effort can save the relationship. But one needs to know when such effort is useless. In case of some people, it can be the other extreme where they tolerate too much. I can think of one such person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This girl is an engineer with a nice job in a reputed company in India. She had an arranged marriage. At the time of the wedding, her parents gave 35 lakh rupees, 50 tola of gold jewelery, all kinds of household things plus the other usual stuff. Even after this huge dowry, the guy kept asking for a computer, a car and some family property.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first thought was "Why did she marry a guy who asked for dowry?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If asking for dowry was not enough, he and his family wanted a son. The girl gave birth to a daughter. The guy never visited his daughter in the hospital and never took her home. The daughter lives with the grandparents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point you would think that now she should definitely leave him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, she didn't. She kept going back and forth between her parents' and in-laws' houses so that she can give time to both her husband and kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, even this is not the end of the story. After all this, they had a second baby!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this point I was sure that she must be dead inside. How else can someone agree to have another baby with such a creep?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guess what, the second child is also a girl. So last time I heard she was still going back and forth between the two houses. Both the kids live with the grandparents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't personally know her but I know her sister. When I asked the sister why they are tolerating this extreme nonsense. She said "If she gets a divorce, then no one will marry me (the sister)". The sister is a self-dependent grad student in US!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my previous post I said that we need to be more tolerant to make a relationship work but this much tolerance is definitely a sin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-3781210796430565708?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/3781210796430565708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=3781210796430565708&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/3781210796430565708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/3781210796430565708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/04/other-extreme.html' title='The other extreme'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-2190978452025747148</id><published>2008-04-18T10:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T17:06:42.459-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reel life'/><title type='text'>From 'you and me' to 'hum'</title><content type='html'>It takes lot more work to maintain a relationship than to get into one.&lt;br /&gt;That's the moral of the story of the movie '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;U me aur hum&lt;/span&gt;'.&lt;br /&gt;So true!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents had an arranged marriage, have a huge age difference and are very different from each other. They keep fighting like all couples do. Still they have maintained their relationship quite well for over 30 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend M married a man of her choice after dating for 5 years. After another 5 years, she confides in her close friends that she seriously regrets her choice. Reason: Certain differences in their nature that she didn't take seriously during the dating phase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is financial security and a more accepting society making us less tolerant? Are we giving up much easily when things don't match up with our expectations?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;U me aur hum&lt;/span&gt;' for reminding us to put in that extra effort.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-2190978452025747148?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2190978452025747148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=2190978452025747148&amp;isPopup=true' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2190978452025747148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2190978452025747148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/04/from-you-and-me-to-hum.html' title='From &apos;you and me&apos; to &apos;hum&apos;'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-2901264543117281031</id><published>2008-04-12T15:49:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-12T18:22:40.508-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>Mixed emotions</title><content type='html'>Got my first postdoc interview call letter last night. Feeling happy, excited, nervous and terrified all at the same time. The battle begins now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-2901264543117281031?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2901264543117281031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=2901264543117281031&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2901264543117281031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2901264543117281031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/04/mixed-emotions.html' title='Mixed emotions'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8059223315087802020</id><published>2008-04-06T13:23:00.012-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T17:02:02.906-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><title type='text'>Song assignment</title><content type='html'>Recently J bought an electric guitar. No he is not at all a musician or singer. He is just trying to fulfill his childhood fantasy of becoming one. He has absolutely no formal training on playing guitar or any musical instrument for that matter. He bought a 'Guitar for Dummies' book too &lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_biggrin.gif" alt="biggrin" title="biggrin" height="15" width="15" /&gt;. So far he has succeeded in tuning the guitar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing his extremely slow progress I decided to motivate him by giving an assignment with a deadline (grad school effect?). The assignment is to sing and play '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pehli Nazar Mein&lt;/span&gt;' (song from 'Race' by Atif Aslam) when we meet next. Yeah, it's not the easiest assignment for a newbie but I just thought I'll try my luck. There is no other way I can make him sing a romantic song for me &lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_razz.gif" alt="razz" title="razz" height="15" width="15" /&gt;. Anyways, so I sent him the song. After listening to it few times:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J: "Ok so I know the song now. I can't play it yet but do you want to hear just the song?"&lt;br /&gt;Me (Happily): "Yes, yes."&lt;br /&gt;J: "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pehli nazar mein&lt;/span&gt;.....hmm..hmm..la..la.....&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;maybe&lt;/span&gt; I love you, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;maybe&lt;/span&gt; I love you, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;maybe&lt;/span&gt; I love you so."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. I will just play it for myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-8059223315087802020?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8059223315087802020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8059223315087802020&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8059223315087802020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8059223315087802020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/04/song-assignment.html' title='Song assignment'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8614473222498739770</id><published>2008-04-03T15:22:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T21:08:09.076-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>Great minds think alike</title><content type='html'>P: I have no idea what I am doing with this experiment * &lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_rolleyes.gif" alt="rolleyes" title="rolleyes" height="15" width="15" /&gt; *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Albert Einstein: If I knew what I was doing, it wouldn't be called research.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-8614473222498739770?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8614473222498739770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8614473222498739770&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8614473222498739770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8614473222498739770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/04/great-minds-think-alike.html' title='Great minds think alike'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-4481143263653120322</id><published>2008-04-02T10:44:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T10:58:05.478-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><title type='text'>Fortune</title><content type='html'>My today's fortune on Orkut:&lt;br /&gt;"You are next in line for promotion in your firm."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Promotion...hmm...now that sounds good.&lt;br /&gt;It's a different issue that I don't work in a firm, there's no scope for promotion (at least in the same organization) and obviously there are no lines for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_biggrin.gif" alt="biggrin" title="biggrin" height="15" width="15" /&gt;&lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_biggrin.gif" alt="biggrin" title="biggrin" height="15" width="15" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-4481143263653120322?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4481143263653120322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=4481143263653120322&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4481143263653120322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4481143263653120322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/04/fortune.html' title='Fortune'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-255079671056648126</id><published>2008-03-31T16:32:00.014-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T18:04:42.591-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><title type='text'>Here comes the sun</title><content type='html'>It's end of March. It hasn't been the brightest month of my life.&lt;br /&gt;I am hoping April will bring some much needed success.&lt;br /&gt;I am hoping April will bring some much needed good news.&lt;br /&gt;Even though there's no sun outside and the forecast says it's not coming out in the next ten days either, I hope there will be plenty of reasons to feel sunny in the new month. For me and for anyone else who needs it.&lt;br /&gt;Cheers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-255079671056648126?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/255079671056648126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=255079671056648126&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/255079671056648126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/255079671056648126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/03/here-comes-sun_31.html' title='Here comes the sun'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-7087678568467045260</id><published>2008-03-28T23:15:00.010-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T12:26:52.463-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='People'/><title type='text'>Illusions</title><content type='html'>J's boss asked him today about my future plans (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sigh..even people who haven't met me are concerned about my future now!&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, so when J told Mr. Boss about my intentions of finding a post doc in some university and my disinterest in industrial jobs, he said: "She must be from a rich family that she is studying so much." (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hello! I pay my bills myself and since when did academics become a time pass for rich people??).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Looks like unless you do a 9-5 job and earn in 6 figures, your job is not a 'real job'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J is now dreaming about a 4 bed-room flat in some big city and a diamond cladded bride sponsored by 'the rich family'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_biggrin.gif" alt="biggrin" title="biggrin" height="15" width="15" /&gt;&lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_biggrin.gif" alt="biggrin" title="biggrin" height="15" width="15" /&gt;&lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_biggrin.gif" alt="biggrin" title="biggrin" height="15" width="15" /&gt;&lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_biggrin.gif" alt="biggrin" title="biggrin" height="15" width="15" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-7087678568467045260?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/7087678568467045260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=7087678568467045260&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7087678568467045260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7087678568467045260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/03/illusions.html' title='Illusions'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-2850259641870415804</id><published>2008-03-27T10:22:00.010-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T18:33:35.361-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='People'/><title type='text'>Questions</title><content type='html'>"So when are you coming to India?"&lt;br /&gt;"And when are you getting married?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems like people (specifically not-so-close family and friends back home) want to know only these two things about me these days. I was asked these two questions at least a dozen times in last few months!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am amazed because as I mentioned these people are 'not-so-close' to me.&lt;br /&gt;It's not likely that I will visit any of these people whenever I go home.&lt;br /&gt;It's not likely that they will get invited to my wedding whenever it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then why are they so interested?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this is just formality, can't they just stick to regular questions like "How are you?" and "How is life/work etc.?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's starting to get on my nerves because I'm totally clueless about my own future right now &lt;img class="emoticon" src="http://wolverinex02.googlepages.com/icon_cry.gif" alt="cry" title="cry" height="15" width="15" /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm running out of quirky answers. Anyone got ideas?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-2850259641870415804?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/2850259641870415804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=2850259641870415804&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2850259641870415804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/2850259641870415804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/03/questions.html' title='Questions'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-486709036177156043</id><published>2008-03-19T16:38:00.008-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T05:49:01.275-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>Ph.D. blues</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/R-Gg8dc3S2I/AAAAAAAAAF8/He0QEQ6eLJ8/s1600-h/phd082306s.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 481px; height: 208px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/R-Gg8dc3S2I/AAAAAAAAAF8/He0QEQ6eLJ8/s320/phd082306s.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179598007011068770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have to finish my dissertation in 3 months.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;This paper needs to get accepted immediately.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I still have to do that one experiment.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have to have a job offer soon.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Those lab reports need to be graded by Tuesday.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I need to file my tax returns.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My house looks like a pigsty and needs mega cleaning.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;        My brain hurts. Literally.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-486709036177156043?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/486709036177156043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=486709036177156043&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/486709036177156043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/486709036177156043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/03/phd-blues.html' title='Ph.D. blues'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/R-Gg8dc3S2I/AAAAAAAAAF8/He0QEQ6eLJ8/s72-c/phd082306s.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-4221575625810956653</id><published>2008-03-13T19:23:00.015-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T00:09:43.625-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Chicken and Me</title><content type='html'>A conversation between me and Mrs. M (J's mother):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. M: So you know Mr. M is only eating vegetarian food these days.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh really? Why?&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. M: Just like that. Says he doesn't feel like eating non-veg.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I see. (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Don't know what else to say)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. M: But he says he will eat chicken again on your wedding day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Huh! Now I totally do not know what to say)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this a new way of blackmailing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-4221575625810956653?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4221575625810956653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=4221575625810956653&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4221575625810956653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4221575625810956653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/03/chicken-and-me.html' title='Chicken and Me'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-7752870449518929545</id><published>2008-03-11T12:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T21:40:23.864-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>I am becoming a skeptic</title><content type='html'>A student calls me up and tells me that he is in serious family crisis. The situation he describes is really, really awful.&lt;br /&gt;I feel really bad and I ask "What do you want to do?"&lt;br /&gt;He says "Can I submit that paper two days later?"&lt;br /&gt;So now I am thinking " The family crisis he just described sounds too horrible to not run home immediately. Is he telling the truth or is he making up stories just to get that extension?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am turning into a mean, skeptic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame it on the past experiences. People come up with some pretty crazy excuses around this time of the semester. It's mid-term week. Everyone is crushed with deadlines and exams. I have been getting deadline extension requests for this paper since last two days (It is due tonight). Unfortunately, I do not have the authority to do so and the Professor who has, won't buzz. I guess it's because he has even more experience than us TAs. "Tough love", he says!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-7752870449518929545?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/7752870449518929545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=7752870449518929545&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7752870449518929545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7752870449518929545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-am-becoming-skeptic.html' title='I am becoming a skeptic'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-722838193200472917</id><published>2008-03-09T11:50:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T12:51:23.398-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><title type='text'>How much sharing is caring?</title><content type='html'>This question is regarding sharing of private information, such as passwords of your e-mail accounts and such, with your significant other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess according to the rules of 'love and trust' you are not supposed to keep any secrets from your partner. I agree about that mostly but what if you want to surprise the other person and you need to order the gift online? Definitely it won't be fun if the person comes across that confirmation letter in your mailbox!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason I thought about this topic today is a funny incidence (for any third person):&lt;br /&gt;A guy I know got married recently. It was an arranged marriage. He has been in a relationship in the past but he didn't tell his wife about it yet. Totally understandable. It takes time to be comfortable enough to share everything about yourself, but I guess it takes less time to be comfortable enough to share 'the password'. Without thinking much this guy gave his wife access to his mail account and guess what...the wife discovered a bunch of letters from the ex! The past relationship was over some 3 years ago. The poor guy probably didn't even remember that those letters still exist, but you can imagine the scene in his house after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story: Think twice before you decide to show your 'love and trust' :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-722838193200472917?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/722838193200472917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=722838193200472917&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/722838193200472917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/722838193200472917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/03/how-much-sharing-is-caring.html' title='How much sharing is caring?'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-4026227306996869216</id><published>2008-02-27T10:55:00.008-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T12:51:51.533-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men-women'/><title type='text'>Labels</title><content type='html'>A is a man who chooses to go faraway from his loved ones for a better career option.&lt;br /&gt;B is a man who chooses to leave a nice job to be with his partner, who has got a great job offer in a new place.&lt;br /&gt;C is a woman who chooses to go faraway from her loved ones for a better career option.&lt;br /&gt;D is a woman who chooses to leave a nice job to be with her partner, who has got a great job offer in a new place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A is called a serious, career-driven, successful man.&lt;br /&gt;B is called a spineless, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;joru ka ghulam&lt;/span&gt; (slave of wife).&lt;br /&gt;C is called self-centered, heartless woman.&lt;br /&gt;D is called caring, sacrificing woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why these discriminations?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-4026227306996869216?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/4026227306996869216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=4026227306996869216&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4026227306996869216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/4026227306996869216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/02/labels.html' title='Labels'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-5815593485294565102</id><published>2008-02-17T11:52:00.007-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T01:14:43.090-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love relationship etc.'/><title type='text'>My friend has been kidnapped by an alien!</title><content type='html'>No, of course not literally but I feel the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My close friend (let's call her N) and I always made fun of people who are mushy, gushy about their love life/partners. We bitched about these people for hours and took pride in the fact that we were cold and heartless. Then she fell in love last year and suddenly she is doing the same irritating things and much more!!! Was it all an act of 'sour grapes' then? I feel betrayed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking about my being cold and heartless, my boyfriend (let's call him J) had a dream last night that I have dumped him for someone else and he is very sad (he amazed himself with this feeling) and then what made him more miserable than actually being dumped was that I was telling him very casually "What's the big deal? Don't be a sissy. Get over it." ha ha...now that sounds more real to me than N's new Orkut photo (I wish I could post it here to prove my case).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming to analysis of the dream: I blame it on the big hype called Valentine's day. Everyone in J's office (including his 50+ boss) left early to celebrate V-day and his girlfriend didn't even call him all day to wish him and was almost falling asleep when he made his usual 'how was your day' call (I live 3 time zones ahead of him and it was much past mid-night my time..can you really blame me?). J is usually as romantically-challenged as me, if not more but I guess all the pressure created by this specially designated romance day can affect such people too. I am just thankful that the effect on him is not as drastic as on N.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-5815593485294565102?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/5815593485294565102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=5815593485294565102&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/5815593485294565102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/5815593485294565102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-friend-is-kidnapped-by-alien.html' title='My friend has been kidnapped by an alien!'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-6033698794011977905</id><published>2008-02-12T11:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T12:48:38.365-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><title type='text'>Yaaaaaay...Happy snow day!!</title><content type='html'>Snow and rain on the same day = messy, slippery roads..and when you have to go to work on such a day, it becomes a really painful day. It is one such day here today. I came to work slipping and sliding 20 times on my way and was really worried about my return journey because today is the day when I teach from 3-9 p.m. But guess what, they just announced that all classes after 3p.m. are canceled!!!!....so now it becomes a happy snow day for me......yaaaaaaaay. Now I can go home and enjoy the snow from by window while drinking a cup of steaming hot chocolate....aaaahh. I am probably happier than my students for the canceled classes :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-6033698794011977905?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/6033698794011977905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=6033698794011977905&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6033698794011977905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6033698794011977905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/02/yaaaaaayhappy-snow-day.html' title='Yaaaaaay...Happy snow day!!'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-6434719381163748589</id><published>2008-02-10T15:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T12:49:46.470-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men-women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reel life'/><title type='text'>The mind of the married man</title><content type='html'>I have been watching the DVD of this old HBO series called 'The mind of the married man'. It is like a male, married version of 'Sex and the city'. It is funny and smart and at the same time quite informative for us women! I mean it's no secret that most men have not evolved much since their days as cavemen and they have only three things on mind: work, food and sex and that marriage is like a life imprisonment to them. The things that this show reveals is how clueless they are most of the times about their own feelings, not to mention about their emotional, romantic and much evolved partner's feelings and how much effort they have to put in to keep up with the women in their lives (be it wife or the cute/hot colleague). The sad part is that they still fail..each and everyday and to rectify that they keep doing more and more mistakes making things worse. Maybe we need to start thinking in more simple terms to help these poor souls :)&lt;br /&gt;The show also revealed some scary thoughts that men have (at least all the one on the show had). I am not talking about the usual fantasies of other women but things like having something called a 'free-pass dream' when the wife is too much to handle. In this dream they think of a quick, painless (because they actually love their wife) way by which the wife meets an accident and die(!!!!!!!!!) and they get their freedom back, get lots of money (insurance or such) plus a sob story to impress other women!!! Maybe I should ask my boyfriend if he already has one of those..or maybe I should stop watching this show..too much information might complicate things even more..he he.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-6434719381163748589?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/6434719381163748589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=6434719381163748589&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6434719381163748589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6434719381163748589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/02/mind-of-married-man.html' title='The mind of the married man'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-8548710625057105526</id><published>2008-02-09T09:53:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T15:22:42.594-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Men-women'/><title type='text'>Craving for heroism</title><content type='html'>Last evening I met my personal hero. Here's what happened:&lt;div&gt;I was really bored waiting for my adviser to show up for our late Friday afternoon lab meeting. To stay awake I thought I can use some sugar in my system and so I went to get a Snickers bar from the vending machine. I put the money, my change came back but the chocolate bar got stuck halfway. Slapping and hitting the machine couple of times didn't move it an inch and so I started leaving the place mourning my loss of 75 cents. At the very moment, a guy appeared from nowhere to get a cup of coffee from the next machine and he jumped in to get me my chocolate (I didn't even ask him to!). First he slapped, hit, rocked the machine..nothing happened..then he tried putting his arm inside the machine almost lying down on the dirty floor (I was scared that he might break his hand)..still nothing..then he pulled out a key chain with all kinds of tools on it (now I was very scared that he might break the machine and police will put both of us in jail)..but after almost 5 minutes of struggling on his hands and knees, he got up with my 75 cents chocolate bar in hand, offered it to me with a victorious smile and said "I can be really persistent". I felt soooo flattered :P &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even though we, today's women take pride in being strong and self-dependent and most of the times get annoyed if men around us try to be protective but maybe somewhere deep down we still like to be saved by an occasional knight in shinning armor :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-8548710625057105526?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/8548710625057105526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=8548710625057105526&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8548710625057105526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/8548710625057105526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/02/craving-for-heroism.html' title='Craving for heroism'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-6784541380365582010</id><published>2008-02-08T12:06:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T21:41:04.965-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>An eventful week</title><content type='html'>After my last guilty post, I worked a lot but sadly, after doing a loooong and hectic experiment, I was rewarded with a very unexpected result :( First I freaked-out, then started having doubts about how I will finish my dissertation by summer if things go wrong like this. This thought led to fitful sleeping with nightmares, whining  and scaring parents, boyfriend  and best friend..scared adviser and lab-mate too to some extent (to the outer world I usually pretend to be a completely unbreakable person :P ). But then after some major reading and brainstorming...eureka!! I found an explanation to the weird result..it might not be weird actually..everything in science has a reason :) Now I have to run one more test this week to get a nice result avoiding the unwanted part. Please, please, please let next week be a positively productive week!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-6784541380365582010?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/6784541380365582010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=6784541380365582010&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6784541380365582010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6784541380365582010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/02/eventful-week.html' title='An eventful week'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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-3653567789709016478.post-6086921584634390961</id><published>2008-02-02T14:17:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T05:49:01.592-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad life'/><title type='text'>This is me!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/R6Tp_Cg_bPI/AAAAAAAAABA/OPuIeq4TK44/s1600-h/phd013008s.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 531px; height: 226px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/R6Tp_Cg_bPI/AAAAAAAAABA/OPuIeq4TK44/s320/phd013008s.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162508342089706738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's 5.10 p.m. and I have not done anything productive all day (my day started at 11 a.m. as today is Saturday)! I am supposed to study and finalize a protocol for a new experiment that I have to start next week. I also need to cook and clean today. I better get going...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-6086921584634390961?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/6086921584634390961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=6086921584634390961&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6086921584634390961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/6086921584634390961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/02/this-is-me.html' title='This is me!!!!'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s0wY5XEttnU/R6Tp_Cg_bPI/AAAAAAAAABA/OPuIeq4TK44/s72-c/phd013008s.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3653567789709016478.post-7133358958617111719</id><published>2008-02-01T15:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T12:54:59.335-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moments'/><title type='text'>Beginning of a new experiment..</title><content type='html'>Random thoughts, weird thoughts, meaningless thoughts, unnecessary thoughts...my small brain is getting too crowded. I need a Pensieve like Dumbledore! A blog spot might do for now. Let's see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3653567789709016478-7133358958617111719?l=pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/feeds/7133358958617111719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3653567789709016478&amp;postID=7133358958617111719&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7133358958617111719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3653567789709016478/posts/default/7133358958617111719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdumpsherbrainhere.blogspot.com/2008/02/beginning-of-new-experiment.html' title='Beginning of a new experiment..'/><author><name>P</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17600166917889802165</uri><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>
