<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643</id><updated>2009-12-20T23:32:08.417+04:00</updated><title type='text'>S for Salam</title><subtitle type='html'>What you see is what you get!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-4818688316471895804</id><published>2007-09-03T16:04:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T16:05:32.828+04:00</updated><title type='text'>It’s not for free anymore, I expect something in return.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-4818688316471895804?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/4818688316471895804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=4818688316471895804&amp;isPopup=true' title='79 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/4818688316471895804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/4818688316471895804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/09/its-not-for-free-anymore-i-expect.html' title='It’s not for free anymore, I expect something in return.'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>79</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-5626440800223751292</id><published>2007-08-15T10:30:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T10:31:50.629+04:00</updated><title type='text'>“How?” I ask</title><content type='html'>I’ve been away for so long.&lt;br /&gt;So much has happened in the last few months, I bought a new car, got confirmed at my job (meaning I’m not under probation any more), I got a raise too.&lt;br /&gt;Most importantly and the most life altering event in the past month is the fact that my sido (grandfather), my dad’s father, passed away on 23rd of July.&lt;br /&gt;He passed away after a long struggle with many illnesses, one of which was cancer. &lt;br /&gt;I’m not going to pretend that I had a special relationship with sido, I didn’t, but what I had for him was great respect, I also was and still am very proud to be his granddaughter.&lt;br /&gt;The interesting and weird part at the same time is the fact that he was a very passive person, he didn’t say much almost all the time. &lt;br /&gt;When he did speak, we all listened, he would talk about politics, people he knows, people he knew, humorous past events… everyone listened, not because they were interested, but because when he speaks, everyone listens.&lt;br /&gt;And now he’s gone.&lt;br /&gt;I remember that the night before he passed away, I was supposed to visit him at the hospital, but I told myself that I’d do it the next day or the day after.&lt;br /&gt;I remember that my mom called me 20 minutes after I got to work, she miss called me on my cell, it was then that I realized that my office phone was disconnected. I connected it and called her, she asked me why my phone was disconnected and I told her that I just got to work and didn’t get to connecting my phone. Then she told me that my grandfather passed away, I remember that all I managed to say was “How?”.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-5626440800223751292?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/5626440800223751292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=5626440800223751292&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/5626440800223751292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/5626440800223751292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/08/how-i-ask.html' title='“How?” I ask'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-7669817182735820830</id><published>2007-05-31T10:16:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-05-31T10:18:45.004+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Automobile</title><content type='html'>I hate having to say this, but I’ve made my decision: to drop someone out of my life.&lt;br /&gt;This is so trivial it’s not ever worth stating or writing about how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;Some people are just that: trivial, and not even worth having or dealing with, they’re just like fungus or parasites that live off of other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to buy a car though, I’ll post something about it once I get it, because right now I’m torn between two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-7669817182735820830?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/7669817182735820830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=7669817182735820830&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/7669817182735820830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/7669817182735820830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/05/automobile.html' title='Automobile'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-2533419642509899048</id><published>2007-05-25T13:57:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T13:58:35.640+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Space</title><content type='html'>He doesn’t have to live with the consequences of his decisions, we do. And he could care less, at the end of the day he gets the bigger room and the sunlight.&lt;br /&gt;Sent: 12:00 noon on May 25th 2007.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-2533419642509899048?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/2533419642509899048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=2533419642509899048&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/2533419642509899048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/2533419642509899048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/05/space.html' title='Space'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-1358004610912879015</id><published>2007-05-24T13:21:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T13:23:19.234+04:00</updated><title type='text'>I</title><content type='html'>I in all honesty am stranded.&lt;br /&gt;I have no one to turn to.&lt;br /&gt;I’m selfish. Rescue me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-1358004610912879015?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/1358004610912879015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=1358004610912879015&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/1358004610912879015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/1358004610912879015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/05/i.html' title='I'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-3287261049903821238</id><published>2007-04-27T00:28:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T00:30:43.186+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bare</title><content type='html'>She tries so hard to isolate herself and pretend that she’s now immune to this drama. Truth is she is the most vulnerable.&lt;br /&gt;She thinks about other people and how they think and what they think about. If only they knew what she thought about.&lt;br /&gt;She can’t withhold her tears, they barge before she can tell they’re coming.&lt;br /&gt;She hates his guts, what he has done and is still doing to her.&lt;br /&gt;She looks at this mess and knows for a fact that it can not and will not change, yet she holds on to any string of hope that it might change.&lt;br /&gt;She wishes she could dissolve into thousands of pieces, and disappear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-3287261049903821238?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/3287261049903821238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=3287261049903821238&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/3287261049903821238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/3287261049903821238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/04/bare.html' title='Bare'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-190351600214943011</id><published>2007-04-17T22:29:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T22:32:00.180+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pigs can fly</title><content type='html'>So, this extremely well planned case of shop lifting happens in Dubai at one of the most prestigious malls with an estimate of AED 50 Million (about $ 13.5 Million) worth of stolen diamonds from Graff jewelry store. According to eyewitnesses, security cameras and the police, the whole operation did not take more than one minute and 45 seconds.&lt;br /&gt;It took the police three whole minutes to get to the scene.&lt;br /&gt;A lot of “factors” are to be considered I’m sure, and I’m also sure that I don’t have the experience nor the education to know and consider all of them… but those three people who did this, obviously thought it through and did their research.&lt;br /&gt;They could have an associate working at the mall that helped facilitate the whole stealing process, even if they hadn’t, I’m assuming it would’ve all been the same.&lt;br /&gt;Two Audi cars crash into the mall’s glass entrance and park in front of the store, three individuals come out of the cars, steal the jewelry, go back into the cars and drive out of the mall.&lt;br /&gt;I have a few questions: Why is the entrance to the mall made of breakable glass? Why isn’t there constant security attendance by each and every jewelry store? Why did it take the police three whole minutes to get to the scene? Why didn’t the store have any security measures what so ever that could’ve prevented or might’ve cut the losses of this whole thing? Why wasn’t there proper security or decent security measures? Why was the “available” security unarmed, untrained and so not ready for this?! And why am I not surprised that they weren’t!!??&lt;br /&gt;Get this, a proposed solution that came from the Dubai Chief of Police is to arm UAE National security guards.&lt;br /&gt;Is there such a thing as UAE National security guards?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-190351600214943011?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/190351600214943011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=190351600214943011&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/190351600214943011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/190351600214943011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/04/pigs-can-fly.html' title='Pigs can fly'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-3348105570941034982</id><published>2007-04-05T21:46:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T21:49:47.281+04:00</updated><title type='text'>It</title><content type='html'>So I finally started working.&lt;br /&gt;A prestigious organization, fancy title, very good pay, supportive line manager, empowering senior management, lots of responsibilities, tons of leadership required, and… a worm.&lt;br /&gt;By the worm I mean a sleazy disgusting person who is having the naked dream… only now it’s for real, and only now it’s on daily basis.&lt;br /&gt;This worm thinks that people actually listen to what it says or when it talks, it thinks that its opinion matters, it thinks that it matters, it thinks that everything would fall apart if it wasn’t for it. Wrong…&lt;br /&gt;So I join this organization, and I get a list of the things I’m to be responsible for, plus the more important things this worm used to do. Worm got stripped off of all its clothes! Haha!&lt;br /&gt;Every single day, the worm comes in and greets with the biggest fakest smile… what this worm doesn’t know is that I’m on to it, I have been bitten by this kind of worm before, NOT going to happen again, not to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-3348105570941034982?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/3348105570941034982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=3348105570941034982&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/3348105570941034982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/3348105570941034982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/04/it.html' title='It'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-2982182775901537455</id><published>2007-03-26T16:14:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T16:15:03.935+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Don’t extend my expectations</title><content type='html'>I don’t need you to respond to my being genuinely nice to you by being temporarily nice to me. That way I actually expect something from you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-2982182775901537455?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/2982182775901537455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=2982182775901537455&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/2982182775901537455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/2982182775901537455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/03/dont-extend-my-expectations.html' title='Don’t extend my expectations'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-6431143357152620857</id><published>2007-03-13T20:31:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T20:32:39.249+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Doing Does</title><content type='html'>No one and nothing can help me do this, I’m on my own.&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit&lt;br /&gt;Maybe if I say it so many times it might happen…&lt;br /&gt;I need control&lt;br /&gt;I need to snap out of it&lt;br /&gt;I need to get a grip&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit&lt;br /&gt;What am I waiting for?&lt;br /&gt;I wish there was someone or something to help do this&lt;br /&gt;Snap out of it!!! There isn’t!!!&lt;br /&gt;Trying goes nowhere, doing does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-6431143357152620857?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/6431143357152620857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=6431143357152620857&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/6431143357152620857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/6431143357152620857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/03/doing-does.html' title='Doing Does'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-8918892416329836955</id><published>2007-03-10T01:16:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-03-10T01:17:57.507+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Release</title><content type='html'>It is that time when I’m supposed to make a decision that will be without a doubt a turning point in my life.&lt;br /&gt;Yes I am happy about the opportunity, yes I should grab it with my hands and teeth, yes I will grab it with my hands and teeth. But… Am I going to be happy?&lt;br /&gt;What I will be doing for sure is giving up a lifelong dream, and living a reality I fought so hard to refuse and reject, and stay out of… Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.*&lt;br /&gt;It’s ironic how people struggle so hard to get what they really want and end up compromising, we end up living with our dream’s leftovers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*Quoting The Godfather: Part III.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-8918892416329836955?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/8918892416329836955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=8918892416329836955&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/8918892416329836955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/8918892416329836955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/03/release.html' title='Release'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-4514611100692455470</id><published>2007-03-08T12:01:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T12:02:15.139+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Been a while!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fXAZJ_-drLs/Re_C-CDvkCI/AAAAAAAAABI/-5Crwj8TU78/s1600-h/DES_027.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039460879011123234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fXAZJ_-drLs/Re_C-CDvkCI/AAAAAAAAABI/-5Crwj8TU78/s320/DES_027.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/26611643-4514611100692455470?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/4514611100692455470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=4514611100692455470&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/4514611100692455470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/4514611100692455470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/03/been-while.html' title='Been a while!'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fXAZJ_-drLs/Re_C-CDvkCI/AAAAAAAAABI/-5Crwj8TU78/s72-c/DES_027.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-5906658493471905538</id><published>2007-03-06T16:34:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-03-06T16:45:14.059+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Entrapment</title><content type='html'>I’m not in denial of my age, I realize that I’m an adult now and that I’m supposed to be able to take care of myself, be independent and make different choices and decisions, right ones hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;But I also always feel that my parents and people who are their age are far more grown up than I am, which they are, because they are more experienced and have see more of life and people, and have had far more experiences than me; a person mostly half their age.&lt;br /&gt;I recently came to know that grown ups make mistakes. As a kid it never occurred to me that they could, I guess my automatic train of thought was that how could someone that tells me what’s right and what’s wrong be able to do anything wrong. Turns out they can do a lot wrong, far more than imaginable. One other thing that occurred to me recently, by recently I mean two minutes ago, is that gown ups can get depressed and be frustrated just like I could be.&lt;br /&gt;I felt trapped, not physically, just emotional and mental entrapment, hand tied, and that I was screaming to the top of my lungs but I wasn’t really making any sound, no one could hear me.&lt;br /&gt;It gives me comfort, but it also saddens me when I know that there are other people out there who more or less feel the same way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-5906658493471905538?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/5906658493471905538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=5906658493471905538&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/5906658493471905538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/5906658493471905538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/03/entrapment.html' title='Entrapment'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-6874652869527593374</id><published>2007-02-28T08:06:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T08:07:51.643+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Cleansing</title><content type='html'>I hate days when I wake up really early and can’t go back to sleep. I woke up today at 5:30 AM, there is no official reason, but yesterday was one of those days where I looked back at my life and realized how much more I can do with it.&lt;br /&gt;People my age are supposed to know what they want out of life, what they want to do with it. I should be able to exploit life to the max, till the last drop, for some reason I find myself incapable of doing that.&lt;br /&gt;Last night I did something I haven’t done for a while, I went to the beach and walked barefoot on the sand and the shallow ends of the water, I used to do that when I was a kid, I used to enjoy doing that!&lt;br /&gt;I came back home and washed away the sand off my feet, and wished I can wash down so many other things I carry around with me, all that extra baggage… so heavy.&lt;br /&gt;And because I was up so early, I dropped off my sisters to school, same school I went to. I said hi to the school guard. I smile every time I see one of the workers at school, for some reason I appreciate the fact that they remember me and I’m reminded of school days, the classmates and of course the teachers, the ultimate nightmare!&lt;br /&gt;On my way back home, I looked at the car next to me on one of the traffic lights and I saw this kid, he’s definitely not more than ten years old, and he was staring out of the car, into nothing it seems, and he was so cute! Sort of chubby with red cheeks, black hair and black eyebrows, and then for some reason as he was looking into nothing both of his eyebrows went up into what seemed to be astonishment, I tried to find something interesting in the direction he was looking, but I didn’t see anything especially noticeable. It probably was something in his head that he found an answer for, or maybe he got excited over a bee flying by, or maybe he’s just a kid who had to do that facial expression on that particular moment… it was simply so beautiful and pure, and flawless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-6874652869527593374?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/6874652869527593374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=6874652869527593374&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/6874652869527593374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/6874652869527593374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/02/cleansing.html' title='Cleansing'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-7085096708601665880</id><published>2007-02-22T01:17:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T01:21:35.632+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive me to the airport please</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fXAZJ_-drLs/Rdy3zN07JJI/AAAAAAAAAA4/J4gyxvpCRdI/s1600-h/Best+Friends+Charm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034100574006224018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fXAZJ_-drLs/Rdy3zN07JJI/AAAAAAAAAA4/J4gyxvpCRdI/s320/Best+Friends+Charm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I came across this quote which is supposedly by Jay Leno. Yes I know the guy is Jewish, but I have to give him credit for his wits.&lt;br /&gt;“Go through your phone book, call people and ask them to drive you to the airport. The ones who will drive you are your true friends. The rest aren't bad people; they're just acquaintances.”&lt;br /&gt;It’s unbelievable how simply true it is, just ask for a drive to the airport.&lt;br /&gt;This is one more thing that bites, having pretentious friends.&lt;br /&gt;They pretend to be “best friends”, and silly me, I believe it. And I try to be the best “best friend” I can be, silly silly me. And I do one thing, ONE, only one thing that is not by the “best friends book of rules”, written by the original “best friends”, and what am I? The World’s worst friend…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not need to explain myself when I have what I consider an emergency.&lt;br /&gt;I do not need to explain myself whenever I have to do something that according to “best friends” is uncommon or unacceptable.&lt;br /&gt;I do not need some whinny ass babies who have seen nothing of the world preaching me on “how it’s really out there”. I don’t know all of “what’s really out there” but I do know that I’ve seen much more of it than your stupid whinny ass.&lt;br /&gt;Don’t even dare and play the “connections” game with me, believe me, VERY unattractive and uncool.&lt;br /&gt;Don’t even dare and play the “my dad is somebody” card with me, some things are better left unsaid. Let me rephrase that, some things are too hurtful to be said.&lt;br /&gt;I know that you lied to me, I know that you’re still lying to me, don’t even dare and think that I don’t know your stupid immature games, I see right through you.&lt;br /&gt;One thing I know for sure on “how it’s really out there”, and that’s your 4.0 GPA counts for nothing, and that people do laugh at you behind your back. And I know that as your friend I’m supposed to tell you that, but I know you, and I know that you will think I’m jealous of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And know this, and I’m not stating this because I’m the most perfect friend in the world, and I know that I have my flaws, my many, many flaws. You have an idea about my flaws because that’s all you think of when you think of me, but take that and multiply it by a million, that’s how many flaws and defects I have.&lt;br /&gt;In addition to all those flaws, and as long I am physically able, and as long as there is no other pressing imperative obligation, I will take you to the airport, fly half or all the way across the globe, give you not what you need but what I need, for you, on any given day.&lt;br /&gt;I try to be a friend, that’s all, I try…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-7085096708601665880?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/7085096708601665880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=7085096708601665880&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/7085096708601665880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/7085096708601665880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/02/drive-me-to-airport-please.html' title='Drive me to the airport please'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fXAZJ_-drLs/Rdy3zN07JJI/AAAAAAAAAA4/J4gyxvpCRdI/s72-c/Best+Friends+Charm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-2529827423584577039</id><published>2007-02-20T22:11:00.001+04:00</published><updated>2007-02-20T22:11:56.461+04:00</updated><title type='text'>I don’t get it, it bites</title><content type='html'>The only thing that has been agonizing me for the past month or so has been getting it. Once again, I am proven to be right, even though I really did not want to be right, because right was not right for me.&lt;br /&gt;I deserve to get it, I do, damn right I do.&lt;br /&gt;The problem is my name, and my appearance, and the fact that I belong to a group that happens to be a minority. I don’t own much, I’m not worth the economy of one whole country.&lt;br /&gt;It wasn’t the color of my skin, definitely not the content of my character, but for some reason the part about character in Martin Luther King Jr.’s speech just keeps repeating itself in my head.&lt;br /&gt;“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”&lt;br /&gt;I too have that same dream.&lt;br /&gt;Discrimination bites.&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t get it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-2529827423584577039?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/2529827423584577039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=2529827423584577039&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/2529827423584577039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/2529827423584577039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-dont-get-it-it-bites.html' title='I don’t get it, it bites'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-4863733336822835233</id><published>2007-02-16T21:49:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T21:54:29.797+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Flipped then Bummed</title><content type='html'>I’ve been waiting for a phone call for the past ten days, I’m not a very good “waiter”. I flip out and literally jump whenever the phone rings, I can’t control my nerves! Seriously why would a well respected organization say that they will get back to you within ten days and not call you on the 11th day! Why?!&lt;br /&gt;I’m also bummed out over something that did seem too good to be true. Basically, it is, was, my DREAM job, and I built myself up so much for it for me to eventually find out that the position has been filled.&lt;br /&gt;B.U.M.M.E.R.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-4863733336822835233?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/4863733336822835233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=4863733336822835233&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/4863733336822835233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/4863733336822835233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/02/flipped-then-bummed.html' title='Flipped then Bummed'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-3196145933771338153</id><published>2007-02-13T23:28:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T23:31:23.745+04:00</updated><title type='text'>على استعداد للاستعداد؟</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;.ما الحياةُ إلا استعداداً لشيءٍ لم يحدث بعد&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-3196145933771338153?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/3196145933771338153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=3196145933771338153&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/3196145933771338153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/3196145933771338153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/02/blog-post.html' title='على استعداد للاستعداد؟'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-7254757033883136833</id><published>2007-02-12T21:47:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-02-12T21:46:41.558+04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Return to Love, to One’s Self</title><content type='html'>Inspired by &lt;a href="http://blog.sweetestmemories.com/"&gt;Qwaider&lt;/a&gt;, plus the fact that this has been going on in my head for a while, especially now that I feel that I’m not who I used to be, I’m another me…&lt;br /&gt;It’s not as simple as whether the glass is half empty or half full. It’s about us and what see in ourselves and what we believe we are capable of being, of doing.&lt;br /&gt;I disagree with those who go on preaching that anyone can be whatever they want to be if they set their mind to it, that’s not true.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately most of us learn that later instead of sooner, after reality slaps us in the face so hard we get so knocked out we can barely make back up.&lt;br /&gt;One should realize their own potential, their own abilities and work on them.&lt;br /&gt;One should not realize anyone else’s.&lt;br /&gt;Being ourselves is what we were born as, we shouldn’t try and change that, because it’s just like the saying “The easier it is to do, the harder it is to change.” Which more or less means الطبٍع غلاّب.&lt;br /&gt;Back to the point: It’s not the best movie in the world, but it’s one that gets a person, moves them, giving motivation to be as much bigger and better as anyone can be, at the same time maintaining to still be one’s self, not someone else.&lt;br /&gt;The movie Coach Carter has a variation of this quote, that I personally found truly inspiring, so I googled it and found the original.&lt;br /&gt;This is in light of the post by Qwaider, &lt;a href="http://blog.sweetestmemories.com/default.asp?Display=618"&gt;LOVE YOURSELF 1ST&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.' We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”&lt;br /&gt;Marianne Williamson - A Return to Love&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-7254757033883136833?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/7254757033883136833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=7254757033883136833&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/7254757033883136833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/7254757033883136833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/01/return-to-love-to-ones-self.html' title='A Return to Love, to One’s Self'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-5753559570216867363</id><published>2007-02-06T18:33:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-02-06T18:39:00.430+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Salam Salam!</title><content type='html'>I found a &lt;a href="http://www.reflectionsallmine.net/"&gt;Salam &lt;/a&gt;online! And I'm pretty sure it's a girl just like me!&lt;br /&gt;I've met and known of male Salams before, and female ones that were like babies, meaning so much younger than me. But this is the first time for me to meet a grown up female Salam.&lt;br /&gt;From now on, I'm making a deal with myself to always greet whoever I find, that has a name just like mine!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-5753559570216867363?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/5753559570216867363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=5753559570216867363&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/5753559570216867363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/5753559570216867363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/02/salam-salam.html' title='Salam Salam!'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-4256313166931338581</id><published>2007-02-03T22:55:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-02-03T22:57:39.089+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Reflection</title><content type='html'>When I was growing up, my mom asked me a very interesting question. She asked me what if I looked in the mirror one day and did not see my own reflection, that I saw another world that I could walk into, what would I imagine I was to see?&lt;br /&gt;She told me to write it down.&lt;br /&gt;I imagined that I would see the black space with the plants scattered around like colored Chinese lamps, and that there would be tiny pieces of brilliant glitters sprinkled on the velvet navy black sky, shining… those would be the stars. The sun would be on the right for some reason, very bright and yellow, and has a beautiful smiling face.&lt;br /&gt;The moon would be on the left, all blue and icy, yet cheesy enough for me to actually see Jerry the mouse going into one hole and then out to the other!&lt;br /&gt;The planets are all round and in many many colors, there is green, brown, blue and even purple! Some of them have like patterns on them, either lines or circles or squares. Some of them came in more than one color. All look like candy, all good enough for me to actually grab and eat!&lt;br /&gt;One of the planets would be that color that isn’t exactly red and isn’t exactly orange, so bright and standing out. It would have a BIG sign sticking out of it that has huge green letters spelling out M.A.R.S.&lt;br /&gt;I would be able to jump from one planet to the other, and then taste the cheesy moon. But eventually I would go to Mars and hang out bellow the gigantic sign, and carve my name in the red sands.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-4256313166931338581?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/4256313166931338581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=4256313166931338581&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/4256313166931338581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/4256313166931338581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/02/another-reflection.html' title='Another Reflection'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-9211091073283281856</id><published>2007-02-02T20:02:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-02-02T20:43:45.920+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hats off</title><content type='html'>I’ve been unemployed for like what? Two months now? Last weekend, after I started being another person, I had a feeling that the week ahead was going to be good. Many signs lead me to believe that, and what do you know? It was!&lt;br /&gt;I got an email from a girl that works at the company I left telling me that she misses me and she was wondering if I had found a job. She comes from a pretty well connected family and she knows a lot of people, so I thought that she heard or knew about a company opening up or a suitable position that she wanted to tell me about. I called my old company on Sunday and asked for her, the receptionist answered me hesitantly “She is not at her desk…” and I was like okay, have her call me when she’s back.&lt;br /&gt;15 minutes later I get a call from a cell phone number, and what do you know? It’s her telling me that she quit that company too… I was like “YOU GO GIRL!!!!!”&lt;br /&gt;Let me explain, she has been with the company ever since it was formed, she basically is one of the oldest, friendliest most nicest people in the company. She was also taking a lot of crap from people in senior positions who basically are in their positions undeservedly. She has kept her mouth shut for far too long and took too much crap from so many bullshitters, it had to stop. So what she does is the same thing I did… she leaves them, just like that because she has had it, even if there was no other offer or place waiting for her, it was just NOT WORTH all that pain and agony!!!&lt;br /&gt;I dedicate this to you KAD, I salute you for your courage, you and I both know that there are only a few people out there with this kind of guts.&lt;br /&gt;Hats off to you, you’re one of few!&lt;br /&gt;How has it been a good week? She called me on Sunday and we spoke briefly… right after I hang up with her, one of my friends call me and ask me if I want to help out at her work, part-time and getting paid an hourly rate… I was like HELL YEAH!!&lt;br /&gt;It’s not the greatest experience in the world working with friends by the way, it’s actually one of the worst! Because people stop being friends and they start dealing with each other on a “friendly” basis, which basically means “I can only stand your face because I have to”. So, note to self, never work with your friends EVER again. But I know very well that I will end up doing this again.&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it wasn’t SO bad. Yes there were times where I wanted to strangle you Marlin, but then you call me after-hours to apologize for the way you’ve been acting and I go like “I love you too”.&lt;br /&gt;It’s not Marlin’s fault that she has to work with people who try to sell you crap and ALSO have the nerve to tell you that it’s actually good for you. I’m just worried that she will turn into one of them.&lt;br /&gt;The one thing that made the past week “Oh so GOOD!!”, I got a call on Thursday telling me that I was short-listed for a scholarship I had applied for… My week would’ve counted for nothing if it wasn’t for that call, I just hope I make it all the way to the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note: It’s funny when people get stabbed in the back, metaphorically speaking that is, and they go like “I thought I knew you/him/her”. Would people be surprised if they didn’t “know” the person?! It’s people whom you know that stun you, not the ones you don’t. Just a thought…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-9211091073283281856?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/9211091073283281856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=9211091073283281856&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/9211091073283281856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/9211091073283281856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/02/babble.html' title='Hats off'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-8503840420556363792</id><published>2007-01-30T20:29:00.001+04:00</published><updated>2007-01-30T21:00:37.067+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fXAZJ_-drLs/Rb95gbRVRaI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5QEgM3B_PKI/s1600-h/home.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025869307151992226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fXAZJ_-drLs/Rb95gbRVRaI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5QEgM3B_PKI/s320/home.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been looking for a house for us to move in. It’s not that the house that we’re in has anything wrong with it, it’s just that we came to this house when this housing complex was first built, about twelve years ago, and it’s about time we moved to another one.&lt;br /&gt;Plus, it’s getting “tight” now that everyone is growing up and requires more space, especially the older more domineering bullies like myself.&lt;br /&gt;In the process of checking houses, there were ones that were great, ideal, perfect in everyway, so very welcoming to live it, and has such a cozy atmosphere… scratchless and flawless. I would start to make mental plans of who is going to take which room, and where all the computers would go, and what color the new living room would be.&lt;br /&gt;Then I come back home and park the car in the old garage that has a manual door, with an oil stain on the floor that goes back for as long as I can remember, all those scratches and cracks on the wall, those flowers leaning from their pots, the palm tree, the jasmines, the welcome matt in front of the doorway, and the memory of me and my brother fighting over who washes the car in the first week we moved in…&lt;br /&gt;It’s not that I don’t want to move, I’m dieing to move. I just think that it’s going to take me a while to feel “homey” in the new house, and that this one will always be “home”, even if it just becomes a memory.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-8503840420556363792?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/8503840420556363792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=8503840420556363792&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/8503840420556363792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/8503840420556363792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/01/moving.html' title='Moving'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fXAZJ_-drLs/Rb95gbRVRaI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5QEgM3B_PKI/s72-c/home.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-3289689583241302885</id><published>2007-01-28T20:04:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-01-28T20:08:27.814+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Creation Anew</title><content type='html'>The man of the house goes off and buys a new machine without thinking about the consequences, Results? No clicks. Is that good? Absolutely NOT!!&lt;br /&gt;The last few days have been very interesting. I feel like a new person. And although someone disagrees with me, but I think I am a new person. I’m definitely not what I used to be, it’s a “new” me.&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts come to my head and it’s like I automatically want to share them with someone. Unfortunately, that someone can’t be anyone, otherwise I would be much saner than I am. This specific someone is very dear to my heart, this someone always seems to have the right answer to my questions, even if the answer was “I don’t know what to tell you” or “I’m not sure how I should be responding to this”, this someone always allows me to vent… there are certain thoughts that I wish I could share with all those dear to my heart, but they wouldn’t get it. That someone does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 23rd, 2007 – 16:10&lt;br /&gt;I don’t want to stay home… I want to punch something or someone, scream to the top of my lungs, just fall apart and cry my eyes out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 23rd, 2007 – 20:21&lt;br /&gt;How would he know that I made BOTH c**m***s? F**K man it’s getting to me!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 23rd, 2007 – 22:32&lt;br /&gt;F**K… My f***g from *a**r got *****ed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 23rd, 2007 – 22:34&lt;br /&gt;I’m in shock. It’s funny but I find myself not capable of laughing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 23rd, 2007 – 22:38&lt;br /&gt;I’m in shock. I don’t know what to think or how to think it. I don’t feel at loss or anything I’m just shocked. And I think I’m also yellow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 23rd, 2007 – 22:41&lt;br /&gt;I may be that… But I’m yellow as in no blood is being circulated in my face, not yellow as in blue. I think I’ll sleep for a decade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 24th, 2007 – 08:26&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had a format button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 24th, 2007 – 20:43&lt;br /&gt;It’s official… I’m another person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for taking my shit, I know that no one else would.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-3289689583241302885?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/3289689583241302885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=3289689583241302885&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/3289689583241302885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/3289689583241302885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/01/creation-anew.html' title='Creation Anew'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26611643.post-5911883085516671354</id><published>2007-01-22T16:30:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-01-22T16:34:48.305+04:00</updated><title type='text'>BLAH!</title><content type='html'>I know that the same person disappointed me like a million times before, I still allow myself to believe what they say or say they will do.&lt;br /&gt;It’s always up to one person to make a decision, and that person is always the most selfish and inconsiderate of others. It’s also usually the person who is the most comfortable with any situation, where things always work for their “advantage”.&lt;br /&gt;I try so hard to be strong about how I feel when I’m disappointed, that I won’t have anything to do with anything…&lt;br /&gt;It’s not like I haven’t done it before, and I’m not pretending that I’m miss perfect that never hurts anyone, I have hurt so many people in my life with things I say. But I can’t consciously and deliberately bring myself to disappoint someone else, especially when it’s someone I love and care about deeply.&lt;br /&gt;Like a fool, that is how I feel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26611643-5911883085516671354?l=sforsalam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/feeds/5911883085516671354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26611643&amp;postID=5911883085516671354&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/5911883085516671354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26611643/posts/default/5911883085516671354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sforsalam.blogspot.com/2007/01/blah.html' title='BLAH!'/><author><name>S.N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11734218063533460522</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05536523488591051456'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry></feed>