<?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-5867113176671879008</id><updated>2011-11-30T17:28:54.682-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Realistic shell; Idealistic core..Random musings</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-6833900677978474226</id><published>2011-11-25T12:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-25T12:12:45.118-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Thanksgiving Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0PywEgsYtl4/Ts_2e63s1SI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/cGb3U88JLfo/s1600/Copy%2Bof%2BPB231567.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0PywEgsYtl4/Ts_2e63s1SI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/cGb3U88JLfo/s200/Copy%2Bof%2BPB231567.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679028666196874530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Thanksgiving for me is usually spent at my parents’ house in Michigan with a warm fire and sumptuous dinner that consists of a mixture of Indian and American dishes. This year, I decided to stay in New York City to skip the strenuous holiday travel after exhaustion from my recent apartment move and an anticipated trip oversees coming up in December.  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Yesterday, I took a walk in the brisk morning to go to the Macy’s parade.  I was hoping to catch a bus, but the sun was shining and the beauty and quietness of it all made me skip taking the bus.  It was a little eerie to see New York City so quiet, when the excitement and madness makes way to calmness.  However, it wasn’t long before I could hear people at distance and I knew that I was getting close to the parade. Then, I saw people with strollers, grandmothers, couples, tourists, and locals eagerly walking in that direction.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As I continued walking, I saw a person crouched up on the side of the street with a few bags wearing a hooded old sweater. As many of you know, it is not an uncommon sight in the city to see a homeless person, and I don’t always stop.  This time, something in me made me stop and go back. I couldn’t tell if the person was a man or woman since all I could see was a small part of the face; I felt I had to give something.  The person looked up surprised as if awoken from a deep sleep, and it made me a bit sad. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; At the parade, I saw the floats of Ronald McDonald, Snoopy, and Spiderman; people were screaming and laughing, little kids were perched up on their father’s shoulders, and tourists were looking at the floats in awe taking pictures of everything in sight (probably their first American Thanksgiving). My festive mood was tampered with the thought of the crouched up person in the street. It was a reminder to me that there are people who spend their Thanksgiving without a home, a family, or a smiling child next to them. It was a reminder to me to be thankful for my family, friends, and my home.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-6833900677978474226?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/6833900677978474226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2011/11/thanksgiving-day.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/6833900677978474226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/6833900677978474226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2011/11/thanksgiving-day.html' title='A Thanksgiving Day'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/-0PywEgsYtl4/Ts_2e63s1SI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/cGb3U88JLfo/s72-c/Copy%2Bof%2BPB231567.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-2388634896836036305</id><published>2011-10-03T17:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-03T17:22:38.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Urban Grit - Lower East Side</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EtZhAGFh0Ds/TopPSVvJGcI/AAAAAAAAAUA/Kvusly00S2o/s1600/grit10.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EtZhAGFh0Ds/TopPSVvJGcI/AAAAAAAAAUA/Kvusly00S2o/s200/grit10.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659423058235562434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9Nwf01bx4YA/TopPKWWWDGI/AAAAAAAAAT4/XImCfrZbBec/s1600/grit9.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 170px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9Nwf01bx4YA/TopPKWWWDGI/AAAAAAAAAT4/XImCfrZbBec/s200/grit9.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659422920961035362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JWYQq-nA8ZI/TopQsKkshDI/AAAAAAAAAUI/x6PykI5VY24/s200/grit8.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659424601427182642" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many neighborhoods in Manhattan have lost their inherent character in the past 10-20 years due to gentrification.  However, in the Lower East Side, you can still see the grit of New York City on an aging wall, a broken door, or an occasional dumpster.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HS2ARVe_xhk/TopOUx3ZdXI/AAAAAAAAATA/Kwl7Cn9Tijk/s200/grit1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659422000634492274" style="text-align: right; float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KQSUlDWDcO4/TopOs6tXieI/AAAAAAAAATY/TlC9vg6rSws/s200/grit5.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659422415325202914" style="text-align: right; float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 200px; " /&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lh34jxSnZak/TopOZKZGA-I/AAAAAAAAATI/UVwigCx2rgw/s200/grit2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659422075937752034" style="text-align: left; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 135px; " /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&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/5867113176671879008-2388634896836036305?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/2388634896836036305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2011/10/urban-grit-lower-east-side.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2388634896836036305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2388634896836036305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2011/10/urban-grit-lower-east-side.html' title='Urban Grit - Lower East Side'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/-EtZhAGFh0Ds/TopPSVvJGcI/AAAAAAAAAUA/Kvusly00S2o/s72-c/grit10.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-5786456081606885709</id><published>2011-05-05T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T15:04:00.151-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waste of Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KcR8WaXsHHw/TcMdDbiAcpI/AAAAAAAAAO4/j50Nbv7ejf0/s320/time.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603354306146235026" /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Some of you who have read my blog before have probably realized that spring is my favorite season.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In-spite of the temperamental rain and irritating allergies, there is something rejuvenating about spring that sets it apart from other seasons.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am back and ready to blog again after an absence of four months.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My absence from this blog also made me realize how everything is ephemeral.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I decided to calculate the amount of time certain individuals (who shall remain unnamed) spend on Facebook and other social networking sites.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The figures are alarming and a bit sad. I thought about my life and other people’s lives wasted away, the time squandered into the depths of networks and binary numbers unable to ever be recovered; the lost time sucked by a wormhole and never to be seen again.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Deeply regretful of all the time that I and others have wasted, I thought for a moment about what to do about it. Is social media addictive? Of course it is. What is that makes it so alluring? I realized that it is the basic human tendencies and extreme emotions that make social media the most alluring: the connections, popularity, narcissism, pomposity, curiosity, insecurity, and depression.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These extreme emotions somehow make their way into people’s use of these social media tools.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is usually the most social and narcissistic or the least social and insecure who is likely to be online most of the time.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I had two cups of premium Italian coffee today and with caffeine still pulsing in my system, I couldn’t help but calculate the hours spent on social media networks.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Say you are an addict, and my definition of an addict is someone who spends more than 2 hours a day on a social media website: this includes sites such as Facebook, Twitter, MySpace , LinkedIn (yes, it needs to be included too), and Friendster (if you are one of those people who still use it), 2 hours multiplied by 365 days a year is 730 hours a year. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mMCzgGSWzlM/TcMdk8j516I/AAAAAAAAAPA/Bup1jLQqKXc/s200/wormhole.jpg" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 125px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603354881948243874" /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;730 hours is enough for someone to write a novel length manuscript, learn a brand new foreign language, pick up a new musical instrument, travel to a few exotic countries, volunteer at a few shelters, meet a few new people, or read a few books.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After calculating the lost time, the hours seemed to go through the wormhole along with other faces and expressions, each social media website logo devoured by it, into an abyss.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-5786456081606885709?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/5786456081606885709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2011/05/waste-of-time.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5786456081606885709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5786456081606885709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2011/05/waste-of-time.html' title='Waste of Time'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/-KcR8WaXsHHw/TcMdDbiAcpI/AAAAAAAAAO4/j50Nbv7ejf0/s72-c/time.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-8237749766315557412</id><published>2010-12-18T08:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-18T08:56:54.389-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Social Media Networks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/TQznpMiXg7I/AAAAAAAAAM8/WdyZgPStcY0/s1600/social-media.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/TQznpMiXg7I/AAAAAAAAAM8/WdyZgPStcY0/s320/social-media.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552067135567004594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Social media seems to have infiltrated every person's life and influenced their lifestyle.  The question becomes, how big is your network? Networks connecting through networks can be exponential in nature.  For example, say a person has about 200 friends on Facebook.  If each of those 200 friends are connected to 200 different friends, that becomes 40,000 second degree connections. If each of those 40,000 people are connected to another unique set of 200 friends, the number goes up to 8,000,000 third degree connections.  It means that an average person could have about 8 Million third degree connections, which translates to the entire population of New York City.  If we take it to the fourth degree, it becomes 1.6 Billion, almost a quarter of the world's population.  So, the six degrees of separation theory makes sense.  We are all connected to each other through a matter of a few human connections.  When we look at the complexity of networks, they will eventually evolve as a simplified model where everyone else has access to everyone else in the world within a few degrees.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-8237749766315557412?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/8237749766315557412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/12/social-media-networks.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/8237749766315557412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/8237749766315557412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/12/social-media-networks.html' title='Social Media Networks'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/TQznpMiXg7I/AAAAAAAAAM8/WdyZgPStcY0/s72-c/social-media.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-3454038221612239633</id><published>2010-11-29T15:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-29T15:13:58.921-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving</title><content type='html'>Link to my blog &lt;a href="http://sixsentences.ning.com/profiles/blogs/moving-1"&gt;"Moving":&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-3454038221612239633?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/3454038221612239633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/11/moving.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3454038221612239633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3454038221612239633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/11/moving.html' title='Moving'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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-5867113176671879008.post-7739176296512213980</id><published>2010-09-30T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T18:41:32.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To get a warm morning coffee</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/TKU3OS90AaI/AAAAAAAAAM0/mM4iHeq93qY/s1600/nycdawn.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 162px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522881236788576674" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/TKU3OS90AaI/AAAAAAAAAM0/mM4iHeq93qY/s320/nycdawn.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A normal work day in the city starts anywhere between 8:30 AM and 9:20 AM. Commuters try to find a balance by waking up as late as they could while minimizing the time it takes for them to get to work. This morning, I had to be unusually early, 6 AM to be specific. A heavy downpour had blanketed the city. In the pre-dawn hours, while it was still dark and pouring, I stepped outside my apartment building and slowly walked towards an intersection. I started seeing a few people, some with umbrellas, some drenched in rain, a few with hooded sweatshirts, men and women, all making their way from the subway station to different restaurants still to be opened and to apartments where the owners were still asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rain kept pouring; while I held on to my bag, I looked at my shoes and realized that they were soaked. Then, I looked at the establishment where I usually go to grab my breakfast or a morning coffee. There was a dim light inside, and a few people had already started working there. A man was mopping the floor and a lady was cleaning the counters, while another man was preparing the coffee machine. Outside, a man in a hooded sweatshirt was cleaning the sidewalk. Looking at the rest of the people still coming from the subway station, I realized that many of them might have been commuting for more than an hour and some are already here so that my breakfast could be prepared, warm and ready by 8:30 AM. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While waiting, the rain started slowly easing and the people in the restaurant started turning on more of it's lights. The man in the hooded sweatshirt, now completely soaked in the rain, started putting up signs and tables outside. A faint glow of dawn from the eastern horizon began to slowly peek between the buildings. It was now time for everyone else to wake up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-7739176296512213980?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/7739176296512213980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/09/breakfast-before-dawn.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/7739176296512213980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/7739176296512213980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/09/breakfast-before-dawn.html' title='To get a warm morning coffee'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/TKU3OS90AaI/AAAAAAAAAM0/mM4iHeq93qY/s72-c/nycdawn.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-5940894842935007290</id><published>2010-08-29T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T11:13:48.349-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going with the Flow</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="ecxmsonormal" style="background:white"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;color:#2A2A2A;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial;color:#2A2A2A;"&gt;&lt;p class="ecxmsonormal" style="background:white"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I recently started thinking more about what this idiom means. “Going with the flow” means to let go of a lot of things about life and not become obsessed about controlling them. It means that we have to sort out what we can control and what we can’t control. Lao Tzu, who lived around 600 BC, was someone who advocated this theory. He believed that “going with the flow” was the way to happiness. Taoists call it the “flow of the universe”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="ecxmsonormal" style="background:white"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;If we could control 100% of our destiny, it would truly be a miracle. Not even one person has been able to achieve that yet. So, it brings us back to our theory that we have to be clear about which parts of our lives are within our control. If we can sort out what they are, then it is up to us to decide how much of ourselves we can devote to those areas. Then, we have to let go of the parts of our lives that are not within our control. Sometimes you may realize that some things do sort themselves out when you let go and that’s when you will truly experience an epiphany.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-5940894842935007290?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/5940894842935007290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/08/going-with-flow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5940894842935007290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5940894842935007290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/08/going-with-flow.html' title='Going with the Flow'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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-5867113176671879008.post-57876526927996664</id><published>2010-08-26T19:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T19:54:58.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog</title><content type='html'>Here is a link to a blog I posted in the 6 S social site:&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://sixsentences.ning.com/profiles/blogs/a-summer-morning-reflection?xg_source=activity"&gt;http://sixsentences.ning.com/profiles/blogs/a-summer-morning-reflection?xg_source=activity&lt;/a&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/5867113176671879008-57876526927996664?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/57876526927996664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/57876526927996664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/57876526927996664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog.html' title='Blog'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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-5867113176671879008.post-7761482715452309565</id><published>2010-05-26T16:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T16:14:22.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Green-Eyed Monster</title><content type='html'>The green eyed monster lurks in the shadows, unwavering, looking to pounce. Then, he creeps up unexpectedly on the oblivious victim. He has a hunger for human meat; he greedily enjoys his carnivorous appetite while completely devouring some people of their humanity. Shakespeare writes about him in “Othello”. &lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Iago:&lt;br /&gt;O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o'er&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S_2qzlFgf5I/AAAAAAAAAMk/kCT437TYX0Q/s1600/greeneye.jpg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475720525057654674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 144px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 99px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S_2qzlFgf5I/AAAAAAAAAMk/kCT437TYX0Q/s320/greeneye.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is as old as time itself, and somehow, we have fallen prey to his appetite. So, what makes humans succumb to him? People like to compare everything against others, not realizing that they can’t have everything that everyone else has. Even when they become jealous of one aspect of something someone has, they don’t realize that there are so many elements in other people’s lives that they are not even aware of. Everyone says that they like to help people, but when someone has something better than them, many of them surrender to the green eyed monster.&lt;br /&gt;The only way to defeat this evil monster is to not fall prey to him. We know that he only feeds on those who succumb to him. Weak character provides him nourishment and strong character starves him. Somehow he knows he can never be defeated, and in the realm of time, he always manages to find his prey.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-7761482715452309565?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/7761482715452309565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/05/green-eyed-monster.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/7761482715452309565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/7761482715452309565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/05/green-eyed-monster.html' title='The Green-Eyed Monster'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/S_2qzlFgf5I/AAAAAAAAAMk/kCT437TYX0Q/s72-c/greeneye.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-5691027529660404830</id><published>2010-04-25T17:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T17:41:22.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring in New York City</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S9TgmqLpqcI/AAAAAAAAAMc/wvcZSU4oFRo/s1600/blossomtree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S9TgmqLpqcI/AAAAAAAAAMc/wvcZSU4oFRo/s320/blossomtree.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464239202670062018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S9TgUzoThXI/AAAAAAAAAMU/8xEQHKYGwUs/s1600/whiteflowers.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S9TgUzoThXI/AAAAAAAAAMU/8xEQHKYGwUs/s320/whiteflowers.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464238895968519538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;   font-family:Georgia, serif;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Spring in New York City feels as if the world is starting anew: blissful squirrels loitering near cherry blossoms; tiny sparrows circling newborn leaves; a murmuring brook created by melting snow; a new song sung by colorful birds for a new season. All of these sights can be seen in a green oasis in the middle of the city - Central Park.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="line-height: 55px; font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: normal;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&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/5867113176671879008-5691027529660404830?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/5691027529660404830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/04/spring-in-new-york-city.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5691027529660404830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5691027529660404830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/04/spring-in-new-york-city.html' title='Spring in New York City'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/S9TgmqLpqcI/AAAAAAAAAMc/wvcZSU4oFRo/s72-c/blossomtree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-1333237668978580034</id><published>2010-03-28T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T18:00:53.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Indian Students and Exams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S6_5mOsFtCI/AAAAAAAAAKk/4PhtBBZ8lew/s1600/pileofbooks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453852108942324770" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S6_5mOsFtCI/AAAAAAAAAKk/4PhtBBZ8lew/s320/pileofbooks.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I recently came across an article in the New York Times about Indian high school students competing for top colleges:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/24/world/asia/24test.html?WT.mc_id=WO-SM-E-YT-SM-VID-ICE-032610-NYT-NA&amp;amp;WT.mc_ev=click"&gt;http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/24/world/asia/24test.html?WT.mc_id=WO-SM-E-YT-SM-VID-ICE-032610-NYT-NA&amp;amp;WT.mc_ev=click&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am impressed with these students’ ambition and determination to get into the best college programs. The parents are as involved as the students are in this process and it creates a culture of responsibility for learning. However, I am concerned that the tough competition and rigid grading system is giving these over-ambitious students skewed lessons about life and success. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the United States too, for most upper middle class or wealthy families, there is increasing pressure on their children to get into the top colleges or Ivies. There are several very expensive tutoring services for these students to prepare for these colleges. This is especially evident in some of the prestigious high schools across America. In some cases, this pressure starts from gifted kindergarten programs to the top high schools. Nevertheless, most ambitious American students are just as competitive in other areas such as Sports or Music. In addition, most American parents don’t chart their children’s career destiny like many Indian parents do. Thus, ambitious students are likely to excel in fields that they choose.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The situation in India seems too focused on paper grades and rank. There is also pressure to get into engineering or medicine, whether or not the students have any interest in these fields. This creates a culture of robotic students whose only aim is to focus on the future, instead of living in the present. In addition, high financial cost of achieving their goals leave out the majority of the Indian population who live under poverty. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This competition extends to prestigious colleges too. The plot of a recent Bollywood movie called &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S6_6kmL37YI/AAAAAAAAAKs/9gmyG_iBPlA/s1600/3+idiots.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453853180401544578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 179px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S6_6kmL37YI/AAAAAAAAAKs/9gmyG_iBPlA/s320/3+idiots.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"3 Idiots" revolved around the theme of competition at a prestigious engineering college. The tone of the movie was more of disdain for this system, so it seems like many Indians are waking up to realize the problems with this system.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This generation of Indian students will eventually enter the corporate world. If they continue to look to their future as an extension of their educational system, they will be in for a huge disappointment. Leadership skills, empathy, creativity, time management, maturity, critical reasoning, and a variety of other skills cannot be learned in this rigid system. They may also have to start learning how to live in the present once in a while.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-1333237668978580034?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/1333237668978580034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/03/indian-students-and-exams.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/1333237668978580034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/1333237668978580034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/03/indian-students-and-exams.html' title='Indian Students and Exams'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/S6_5mOsFtCI/AAAAAAAAAKk/4PhtBBZ8lew/s72-c/pileofbooks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-5686866899250840903</id><published>2010-02-27T07:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T08:08:03.147-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dancing Snowflakes</title><content type='html'>Yesterday morning, I watched the snowflakes outside my window dance to the music of Mozart in my room. The day before that was a day of misery in the city, a day of rain and snow combined that caused a vicious combination of slushy sidewalks, cancelled trains, and hopeless waits to even catch a yellow cab. Then, came the 'snow day'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Snow day' is the most favorite day for every school children. I still have memories of being eagerly glued to the television in the wee hours of the morning waiting for the closing announcement of my school district. As soon as the name of the school district came out of the announcer, it was music to my ears and the snow seemed more beautiful than ever. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S4k5rEIAtfI/AAAAAAAAAKc/yiaMmhPvU_c/s1600-h/snowflake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442945036658456050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 126px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S4k5rEIAtfI/AAAAAAAAAKc/yiaMmhPvU_c/s320/snowflake.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S4k4Bp0Qd5I/AAAAAAAAAKU/UugJsxUW3e4/s1600-h/snowincity.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For all the snow days to come, there will always be a childhood memory, and while you trek through the snow, drive through it, or take a slow bus to get to work, you will remember that it is another ‘snow day’, your favorite day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-5686866899250840903?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/5686866899250840903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/02/dancing-snowflakes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5686866899250840903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5686866899250840903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/02/dancing-snowflakes.html' title='Dancing Snowflakes'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/S4k5rEIAtfI/AAAAAAAAAKc/yiaMmhPvU_c/s72-c/snowflake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-2135423046681278579</id><published>2010-01-09T10:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T10:31:31.484-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A breath of fresh winter air</title><content type='html'>December is a time when the weather gets bleak and there is not enough sun or daylight. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S0jIkXe_rZI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/nU9nKe73Qz8/s1600-h/hotchocolatemarshmallows.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424806278272626066" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 99px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 130px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S0jIkXe_rZI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/nU9nKe73Qz8/s320/hotchocolatemarshmallows.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Amidst the freezing weather, it is the spirit of being with family, a warm cozy crackling fireplace, or an occasional cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows that helps the mood. Then, comes the New Year, a time to reflect back on the past year and think about what went well and what could be done better. We all have resolutions and plans and everyone hopes to follow them. However, not everyone follows their resolutions and somehow their busy lives start to take over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;People usually think about their lives when they are not busy. “Busyness” is a culture that is seen as glamorous and idolized in the United States. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S0jIO6ZnGxI/AAAAAAAAAJw/woYPC_OmNls/s1600-h/Winter_wallpapers_Winter_forest_004936_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424805909688163090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 121px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S0jIO6ZnGxI/AAAAAAAAAJw/woYPC_OmNls/s320/Winter_wallpapers_Winter_forest_004936_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Everyone is always “busy”. If you are not busy, somehow you must be a looser or not successful. When did we start to associate success with “busy”? Also, when did we start thinking that “busy” people are more productive? The real answer is that constantly “busy” people are not the most productive. If you have good time management skills, you will not be busy 24 hours a day. Also, many people spend too much time on unproductive things and don’t know how to prioritize their time. This leaves them in the busy cycle all the time. The concrete jungle of New York is a haven for “busy” people. They fill every minute of their day with things to &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S0jK5e_6rbI/AAAAAAAAAKI/2B_adJJL2nc/s1600-h/bloomingdaleswindow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424808840090267058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 171px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 123px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S0jK5e_6rbI/AAAAAAAAAKI/2B_adJJL2nc/s320/bloomingdaleswindow.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;do and love to over-com&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/S0jKTi9MAII/AAAAAAAAAKA/dgTkXwau5Ys/s1600-h/macyswindows.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;mit themselves. They also tend to look down on people who are not as busy as them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the workaholic world that we live in, sometimes it is good to take time to breathe. Once in a while, it is nice to take time to enjoy the aroma of a morning coffee or to pick up a tiny snowflake and see what it looks like. Once in a while, it is good to be a little child that sees wonder in little things. &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/5867113176671879008-2135423046681278579?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/2135423046681278579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/01/breath-of-fresh-winter-air.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2135423046681278579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2135423046681278579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2010/01/breath-of-fresh-winter-air.html' title='A breath of fresh winter air'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/S0jIkXe_rZI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/nU9nKe73Qz8/s72-c/hotchocolatemarshmallows.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-1502815400096450715</id><published>2009-12-05T07:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T07:34:06.178-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving week in Paris</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sxp7rIi-vEI/AAAAAAAAAJg/wkaC3cfUcYM/s1600-h/boulangerie.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411773883197865026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 208px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 135px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sxp7rIi-vEI/AAAAAAAAAJg/wkaC3cfUcYM/s320/boulangerie.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was in Paris this Thanksgiving week. The city of lights and love, fashion and culture, cozy cafes and holiday markets. Hundreds of years of history are packed into its wide boulevards and monuments. In the last three days, I was in the Latin Quarter area (le Quartier Latin), the intellectual hub of the city pulsing with curiosity, rows of academic bookstores, ethnic restaurants, and chatty cafes. One cloudy morning, I took a stroll along Rue de Saint-Jacques. Most of the stores were closed, but a few boulangeries were open and the warm glow of the light from them contrasted with the gray skies. Some cobblestone streets away, I saw a morning flower vendor slowly assembling different pots of colorful fresh flowers. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sxp7bABKQHI/AAAAAAAAAJY/VciTSxePS7c/s1600-h/flowers.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411773606030622834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 208px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sxp7bABKQHI/AAAAAAAAAJY/VciTSxePS7c/s320/flowers.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A few elderly smiling faces were queing up to buy the morning baguette from the boulanger. A baguette in one hand, they quietly went about their lives. For a moment, I thought about my own fast paced life, and realized that time waits when you want it to. I never really felt like a foreigner and my minimal french did not discourage anyone from talking to me. You can walk into any cafe and in a few minutes you will find 'friends' who want to talk to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the prestigiuous Champs-Elysees, the holiday markets had already opened up. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sxp76bmDlBI/AAAAAAAAAJo/DTjWXfCxcUo/s1600-h/gargolyes2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411774146009076754" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 227px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 139px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sxp76bmDlBI/AAAAAAAAAJo/DTjWXfCxcUo/s320/gargolyes2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The vendors were selling everything from stuffed animals (made of animal fur) and Russian Matryoshka dolls, to hot cholocolates and crepes. One afternoon, I climbed the 255 steps to the top of the Cathedrale de Notre Dame. I saw the city, with creatures that have been looking out to the city for hundreds of years with history etched into them - the gargolyes. When a stranger becomes a friend, a city will not feel as foreign or strange, but as a familiar place, a place you know you will return to.&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/5867113176671879008-1502815400096450715?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/1502815400096450715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/12/thanksgiving-week-in-paris.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/1502815400096450715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/1502815400096450715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/12/thanksgiving-week-in-paris.html' title='Thanksgiving week in Paris'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sxp7rIi-vEI/AAAAAAAAAJg/wkaC3cfUcYM/s72-c/boulangerie.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-7143228541269939926</id><published>2009-10-25T20:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T20:23:20.557-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall in Central Park</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUU2CCC5HI/AAAAAAAAAJI/UIHcxLkTCXU/s1600-h/fall17.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396742646964348018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUU2CCC5HI/AAAAAAAAAJI/UIHcxLkTCXU/s320/fall17.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUUdnHRCWI/AAAAAAAAAJA/VtxKFBm3k40/s1600-h/fall15.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396742227421628770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUUdnHRCWI/AAAAAAAAAJA/VtxKFBm3k40/s320/fall15.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUUXWWERXI/AAAAAAAAAI4/usaEF3MKC54/s1600-h/fall14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396742119841088882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUUXWWERXI/AAAAAAAAAI4/usaEF3MKC54/s320/fall14.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUT-05Gb2I/AAAAAAAAAIo/0n0wrBrcyIM/s1600-h/fall7.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396741698544365410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUT-05Gb2I/AAAAAAAAAIo/0n0wrBrcyIM/s320/fall7.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUUNYTVjsI/AAAAAAAAAIw/SJW4dshUpLA/s1600-h/fall11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396741948567817922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUUNYTVjsI/AAAAAAAAAIw/SJW4dshUpLA/s320/fall11.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUTjGEvHoI/AAAAAAAAAIY/h6QtQlGEgHg/s1600-h/fall6.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/5867113176671879008-7143228541269939926?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/7143228541269939926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/10/fall-in-central-park.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/7143228541269939926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/7143228541269939926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/10/fall-in-central-park.html' title='Fall in Central Park'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuUU2CCC5HI/AAAAAAAAAJI/UIHcxLkTCXU/s72-c/fall17.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-5214394020369453289</id><published>2009-10-22T22:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T22:19:06.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Homer and the Crayon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuE8TLiZZcI/AAAAAAAAAII/BhlWgvxuDew/s1600-h/z_homer-simpson-brain-crayon-xray.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395660128778806722" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 312px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuE8TLiZZcI/AAAAAAAAAII/BhlWgvxuDew/s320/z_homer-simpson-brain-crayon-xray.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Homer, the character from the Simpsons - not the Greek poet, had a crayon stuck in his brain for all those years, which explained his below average intelligence. Apparently, it was stuck there because of a childhood incident that involved shoving crayons up his nose. After the doctor removed the crayon, Homer’s IQ improved considerably, enabling him to bond with this intelligent daughter, increasing his intellectual aptitude, and improving his logical reasoning. However, Homer soon found out that increased intelligence comes at a price. He was not enjoying normal activities and could not fit in with his friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Does high intelligence and reasoning come at a price? The answer is ‘yes’. People with high IQ scores tend to be analytical and think more than people with low scores. They reason and find more flaws in normal day to day activities. This impacts their ability to live and let live. In the end, considerably high IQ may also mean less happy thoughts because as many say, “ignorance is bliss”. The more you think and analyze, the more you realize that there are so many ways things and events can go wrong. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, schools and universities focus solely on IQ by giving standardized tests and other exams. They ignore one of the biggest predictors of future success – EQ or emotional intelligence. People with high EQ tend to know how to react and deal with everyday situations. They may not necessarily be the most logical or analytical, but they are smart with people and the world around them. The most successful of people are the ones who know how to use both forms of intelligence and create a balance. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the Simpsons episode, Homer eventually had the crayon put back into his brain, because he could not deal with the world of intelligence. Being smart and reasoning with the world is not easy, but using our talents and intelligence in a way that benefits the world is essential. We are all different in our abilities and we all have different strengths. If you are highly intelligent, don’t reason or get disappointed with the world, but use it to the fullest and in the most creative ways. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-5214394020369453289?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/5214394020369453289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/10/homer-and-crayon.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5214394020369453289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5214394020369453289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/10/homer-and-crayon.html' title='Homer and the Crayon'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SuE8TLiZZcI/AAAAAAAAAII/BhlWgvxuDew/s72-c/z_homer-simpson-brain-crayon-xray.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-4527136156127122831</id><published>2009-10-12T18:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T16:42:04.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Park Ave Samosa</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/StPTVyRcNPI/AAAAAAAAAIA/2iu9UayjTaI/s1600-h/vsamosa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391885550118253810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/StPTVyRcNPI/AAAAAAAAAIA/2iu9UayjTaI/s320/vsamosa.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last week, walking along a wide boulevard sipping warm masala chai, I reached to grab a hot samosa from the to-go bag. While the aroma of potatoes and Indian spices were slowly filling the air, it dawned on me that I was walking on a prominent street, Park Avenue. The sophisticated patrons were giving me looks while I was munching on the samosa. No matter how many caviar canapes or lobster bisques I have, the best food to me is what I grew up with. Our culture is a part of us, and people who deny it are denying their own identity. In the world of ethnic assimilation, we all bring small identities with us, mingling, eating, and sharing different customs, but our core still remains; it is what makes us unique.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-4527136156127122831?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/4527136156127122831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/10/park-ave-samosa.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4527136156127122831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4527136156127122831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/10/park-ave-samosa.html' title='Park Ave Samosa'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/StPTVyRcNPI/AAAAAAAAAIA/2iu9UayjTaI/s72-c/vsamosa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-4846681770436927597</id><published>2009-08-15T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T08:15:35.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A solitary violinist</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sodw3CUT0WI/AAAAAAAAAH4/VOZWGuXQnIs/s1600-h/hans_christian.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370385171479777634" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 275px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sodw3CUT0WI/AAAAAAAAAH4/VOZWGuXQnIs/s320/hans_christian.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The statue of Hans Christian Andersen, the legendary storyteller, reading the 'ugly duckling' to the attentitive duck is not easy to miss for a visitor to Central Park. One can see children and families from different nationalities climbing on the statue and taking photographs. Every photograph of the statue is a memory engraved forever in an album in a distant land or becomes a digitized imprint. While sitting on the bench next to the statue today, I started reading ‘The Soloist’ by Steve Lopez, a non-fiction book about a talented homeless violinist. Engrossed in the book, and amidst the laughter of the children climbing the statue, I could hear the faint sounds of a violin coming from the distance. I curiously looked around to decipher the origin of the sound, but couldn't determine the direction of the melody. The evening sun was peeking through the verdant august trees and bushes in the west, the summer breeze gently blowing the leaves. As I picked up my belongings to head back and walked in that direction, the music was becoming more and more audible. At the end of the conservatory pond was a solitary violinist, exceptionally talented, and creating beautiful music for the visitors - a soloist. Some of the best things in life are free, and can be discovered only if we pause, observe, and reflect.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-4846681770436927597?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/4846681770436927597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/08/solitary-violinist.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4846681770436927597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4846681770436927597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/08/solitary-violinist.html' title='A solitary violinist'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sodw3CUT0WI/AAAAAAAAAH4/VOZWGuXQnIs/s72-c/hans_christian.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-4201528108881449271</id><published>2009-07-14T18:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T18:16:10.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Empty Stranger</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sl0tx-i4tII/AAAAAAAAAGY/_CvJCVAmIcA/s1600-h/hoppernighthawks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358489468266919042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 174px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sl0tx-i4tII/AAAAAAAAAGY/_CvJCVAmIcA/s320/hoppernighthawks.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What are they missing, I thought? In some villages in India, some of the poorest people have the widest and most genuine smiles. Why is it that among the swarms of the wealthy, handsome, and beautiful, I don’t see the same smiles?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more we have, the more we seek. As humans, we are naturally inclined to not be satisfied with what we have. Greed has caused wars, destroyed families, and fueled an endless need for creating money. On the other hand, greed has also driven humans to venture, discover, and create the extraordinary. I can spot a random stranger in the city, usually a fashionista or a busy professional; an empty feeling encompasses their tough exterior conveying a feeling of unhappiness. There is an overwhelming feeling of emptiness that many residents face, amidst the power and quest for exceptional wealth, beauty, and popularity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a positive note, some people living in the city will strive to be part of the cultural or business elite and will work hard with a drive and determination not found anywhere. These people will be successful. New York is what you make of it and if you do not get influenced by the constant demand to be the best at everything, you can be a happy person like anywhere else in the world, maybe even as happy as the smiling villager.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-4201528108881449271?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/4201528108881449271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/07/empty-stranger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4201528108881449271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4201528108881449271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/07/empty-stranger.html' title='An Empty Stranger'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sl0tx-i4tII/AAAAAAAAAGY/_CvJCVAmIcA/s72-c/hoppernighthawks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-4620506976883398737</id><published>2009-06-26T19:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T17:56:32.582-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Age in Asia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SkWAlpAWlsI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/NaVGVcI24Jw/s1600-h/japanesegarden.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351825116350551746" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SkWAlpAWlsI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/NaVGVcI24Jw/s320/japanesegarden.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;While walking through Chinatown yesterday, I noticed something that I had observed in the past but not truly thought about. It was the number of elderly people walking in the streets and sitting in the dessert cafes. There was something about them that struck me – some were walking slowly with a younger person holding their arm; others were chatting and laughing with other individuals in the cafes sipping warm tea. Even though many of them seemed physically frail, they seemed to glow with a sense of serenity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is when I thought about elderly individuals in general. I don’t always see the same kind of glow among the other ‘senior citizens’ in the city. When I visited a regular nursing home, the looks on those individuals’ faces were not the same. It didn’t reflect peace or serenity, but rather a sense of slow and unwanted suffering. I realized that the difference is cultural, and as many of us are already aware, the West doesn’t treat and regard the elderly in the same way that Asian or Eastern cultures do. Instead of learning from their wisdom and taking care of them, some are treated as worthless. Many eastern countries are starting to follow the same pattern. In countries such as India, where parents and elderly were revered, I am starting to see the same pattern emerging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For many of us living in the West, it is not too long from now that we could be at that age where we may not be able to take care of ourselves. I hope we won’t be discarded or forgotten by the capitalist youth obsessed society but rather valued for our knowledge, experience, and wisdom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-4620506976883398737?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/4620506976883398737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/06/age-in-asia.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4620506976883398737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4620506976883398737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/06/age-in-asia.html' title='Age in Asia'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SkWAlpAWlsI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/NaVGVcI24Jw/s72-c/japanesegarden.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-6111973685237443692</id><published>2009-06-12T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T07:18:22.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Social Media Narcissist</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SjMWhs8F-DI/AAAAAAAAAFw/zeP3_jG19TQ/s1600-h/narcissus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346641950873614386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 262px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SjMWhs8F-DI/AAAAAAAAAFw/zeP3_jG19TQ/s320/narcissus.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The term "Narcissism" originates from a legend in Greek mythology of Narcissus, a handsome greek man. He rejected a nymph called Echo and refused to accept her love. A goddess, angry at Narcissus, cast a spell on him to fall in love with himself. He saw a reflection of himself in a pond one day and fell in love and never left that pond. He died there and turned into a flower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does Narcissus have to do with social media? Social media is increasingly becoming a haven for narcissists. It is becoming so rampant that even people who are not narcissists in real life are turning into them. What is it about social media that feeds narcissism? The idea of profiles and photographs of individuals to be cast as a display for the whole world to see did not exist many years ago. The idea of any of the 100-1000 'friends' to be able to post comments to photos and posts did not exist either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Narcissists are normally harmless but the question arises about whether it affects their real-life relationships. Instead of spending time with family, for example, a narcissist may spend time checking who commented on their photo or who is checking their profile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twitter and Facebook are the main players in this phenomenon. Micro-blogging about your daily life can be exciting for you but may not always be exciting to the reader who will be getting updates every two minutes on what you ate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner or what subway line you take home. Even I am guilty of it occasionally. There are a few obsessive micro-bloggers and facebookers: the ones who post a new tweet or facebook update every five minutes, usually about their daily life. They are what I define as 'narcissistic'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the new world of web 2.0 we are all players in an increasingly narcissistic but exciting world; it is a world in which we are inundated with micro-information, updates, photos, and events, all of which are still - fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-6111973685237443692?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/6111973685237443692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/06/social-media-narcissist.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/6111973685237443692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/6111973685237443692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/06/social-media-narcissist.html' title='Social Media Narcissist'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SjMWhs8F-DI/AAAAAAAAAFw/zeP3_jG19TQ/s72-c/narcissus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-2487752829512555369</id><published>2009-05-16T16:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T17:39:11.289-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Gossip from the UES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sg9Rl2Sze1I/AAAAAAAAAFo/gu7OlZlNiec/s1600-h/uppereast.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336573794128722770" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 164px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sg9Rl2Sze1I/AAAAAAAAAFo/gu7OlZlNiec/s320/uppereast.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Gossip Girl is a show about a group of teenagers growing up in the Upper East Side. I have never watched that show and I am not interested in watching it when season 3 is supposed to return in the fall. As a midwestern-indian girl living in the Upper East Side, I am fascinated by the stereotypes floating around about people living around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The UES is a neighborhood enclave perfectly set-up in-between Central Park and the East River. Historically known to be a haven for New York establishment, walking in the quaint streets along the prized addresses closer to central park, one can easily spot little proud old ladies in fur coats or perfectly uniformed expressionless children accompanied by similar looking mothers taking them to private school. Museums and cultural attractions are in abundance; diverse restaurants dot the street; luxury boutique stores and cozy cafes can be found everywhere. A sub-culture has formed in this neighborhood. Little by little, the sub-culture that is the Upper East Side is shifting away. Many ‘outsiders’ have moved in and are gradually changing the establishment. In addition, many wealthy New Yorkers, including celebrities and young people are dumping the neighborhood and moving to more trendy neighborhoods such as Tribeca or Soho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, a group of confused tourists with backpacks asked me for directions, while I was standing on 79th and Lex. For a second, I thought - Do I look like an Upper East Sider, let alone a New Yorker? I don't think so, but maybe a neighborhood has some effect on its residents, whether they are part of the establishment or whether they are ‘outsiders’. Maybe, one day, you could find me in the Upper West Side or in Soho living among another sub-culture and tourists asking me for directions then. In any case, I do know that you won’t find me among the proud little old ladies or the expressionless faces that can so often be spotted around here. I grew up learning that a friendly smile won’t hurt anyone and a little humility can go a long way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-2487752829512555369?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/2487752829512555369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/05/simple-gossip-from-ues.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2487752829512555369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2487752829512555369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/05/simple-gossip-from-ues.html' title='Simple Gossip from the UES'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sg9Rl2Sze1I/AAAAAAAAAFo/gu7OlZlNiec/s72-c/uppereast.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-2008941733869838925</id><published>2009-05-11T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T18:46:41.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bon Apetit!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SgjSc9sdbfI/AAAAAAAAAFY/bXxAtrHVryM/s1600-h/ethiopianwarriorpic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334745153659563506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 236px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SgjSc9sdbfI/AAAAAAAAAFY/bXxAtrHVryM/s320/ethiopianwarriorpic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Another blog devoted to food? How can I not write about the wonderful assortment of food in one of the most ethnic friendly cities in the world? This weekend, I was having my regular saturday morning omelette when the craving for a kati roll set in. I didn't get a kati roll that day, but that night I had the opportunity to sample an ethiopian restuarant in hell's kitchen. It is called Meskerem and it had much larger space than Queen of Sheba nearby. After tasting the dinner entree, I give more points to Queen of Sheba. In terms of ambiance and space, Meskerem is better. However, they insisted that each person order a separate entree even though the group was large. Anyways, it probably explains why it is hard to find a spot in Queen of Sheba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, back to kati rolls. I had never tasted a kati roll before I came to NYC. For those of you who have never tasted this delicious ensemble of a wrap, it is basically a paratha stuffed with spices, potatoes, chicken tikka, or lamb. I had two kati rolls on sunday - a chicken roll and a shami kabob. As if that wasn't enough, my friend and I ended up going to Max Brenners Chocolate Factory after that. I didn't know Max Brenners had good smoothies. The fruit smoothie that consisted of strawberry, mango, passion fruit, banana and orange with ice was heavenly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, now that I made my readers hungry here are links to the restaurants mentioned in this blog:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://nymag.com/listings/restaurant/meskerem-ethiopian-restaurant01/"&gt;http://nymag.com/listings/restaurant/meskerem-ethiopian-restaurant01/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.shebanyc.com/"&gt;http://www.shebanyc.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thekatirollcompany.com/"&gt;http://www.thekatirollcompany.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.maxbrenner.com/"&gt;http://www.maxbrenner.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/5867113176671879008-2008941733869838925?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/2008941733869838925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/05/bon-apetit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2008941733869838925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2008941733869838925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/05/bon-apetit.html' title='Bon Apetit!!'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SgjSc9sdbfI/AAAAAAAAAFY/bXxAtrHVryM/s72-c/ethiopianwarriorpic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-1122666173135191995</id><published>2009-05-01T19:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T17:51:34.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring in the City</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sfuw1FBReJI/AAAAAAAAAFI/AhXqjQTtXtk/s1600-h/P4260684.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331049009850185874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sfuw1FBReJI/AAAAAAAAAFI/AhXqjQTtXtk/s200/P4260684.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div&gt;Spring in NY. The tourists start coming, but have not fully occupied the streets. Leaves start growing in different shades of green. Tulips start blooming and I see more smiles than frowns. Central park is swarming with fluttering birds, young leaves, growing flowers, shimmering water, and happy children. There is a beautiful optimism that grows out of the cold bitterness of late winter. Smiley outdoor vendors are starting to sell an assortment of ice-cream and chilled juices. The grey snow and black ice that covered the corners of sidewalks have turned into yellow and red flower beds. Seasons are a reminder to us that change occurs and that life is a continuous cycle of birth, glory, sadness, happiness, death, and remembrance. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;NY is a continous flow of personalities from every corner of the world - speaking different languages, eating different foods, and continuously adding to its aura. Among the yellow lines that dot the street and the concrete walls that tower a bold and powerful city, I still manage to spot a bright spring flower, a playful baby, or an unexpected smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-1122666173135191995?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/1122666173135191995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/05/spring-in-city.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/1122666173135191995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/1122666173135191995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/05/spring-in-city.html' title='Spring in the City'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sfuw1FBReJI/AAAAAAAAAFI/AhXqjQTtXtk/s72-c/P4260684.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-9180843025019660439</id><published>2009-04-26T18:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:36:48.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Travel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sfuxu1BnprI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/_5vXPJ1Qlys/s1600-h/LOCHNESS.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331050001989084850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sfuxu1BnprI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/_5vXPJ1Qlys/s200/LOCHNESS.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the weekend is coming to a close and the week is starting, I am reflecting on where I would like to travel. I haven't traveled much in the past year, because there were several things I needed to take care of such as moving to NY for my new job, apartment hunting, etc. I always admire my adventerous friends who have traveled far and wide to exotic destinations - the ones people don't normally go to. I have been to cities in 3 continents in my lifetime and have yet to explore others. Here is a list of places and trips I would love to go on (quite possibly my dream list):&lt;br /&gt;Italy (Florence, Venice, Rome, Tuscany region)&lt;br /&gt;Loire Valley in France&lt;br /&gt;Aegean Islands in Greece&lt;br /&gt;Loch Ness in Scotland&lt;br /&gt;Vienna&lt;br /&gt;Pyramids in Egypt (very obvious one)&lt;br /&gt;Turkey (too many to list)&lt;br /&gt;Brazil (Amazon cruise, major cities, etc)&lt;br /&gt;China (Beijing, Great Wall)&lt;br /&gt;Thailand (Bangkok, Phuket)&lt;br /&gt;Maldives&lt;br /&gt;Safari in Tanzania&lt;br /&gt;Inca Ruins in Peru&lt;br /&gt;Great Barrier Reef in Australia&lt;br /&gt;Alaskan Cruise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure this list will get bigger as time goes by.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-9180843025019660439?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/9180843025019660439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/04/travel.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/9180843025019660439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/9180843025019660439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/04/travel.html' title='Travel'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sfuxu1BnprI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/_5vXPJ1Qlys/s72-c/LOCHNESS.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-3724940816719325960</id><published>2009-04-18T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T17:12:01.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Economy, Technology, Environment: Challenge to Hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SeqhFjmrh3I/AAAAAAAAAFA/D6kpuN63muY/s1600-h/web2.0..bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326246626147927922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SeqhFjmrh3I/AAAAAAAAAFA/D6kpuN63muY/s200/web2.0..bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The new year began on a somber yet hopeful note - our economy was falling, but we were hopeful for a new beginning and renewal in America. Distress could be seen everywhere. All of a sudden, the issues we watched on television or read about in the news started having a direct impact on our lives. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Americans now have a chance to reflect upon their lives: is this what I always wanted to do with my life? have I pursued my passion? am I truly happy with my career? did I do what was important to me or my family? For many people, their job was their identity. They held on to it like a prize. The issues we are facing is a wake up call to people who thought that they created a safety net out of their careers that sheilded them from facing the realities of life. This era of uncertainty is also a lesson for young people in high school and college who will be entering the work-force soon. They know what uncertainty means and are armed to deal with challenges more than the generation that preceded them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are entering a period of rapid transformation in the political, environmental, and technological areas. Social media is transforming the way we live from micro-blogging to networking, from online collaboration to video sharing. There is a wealth of information we can draw from. My generation (Generation Y) has faced challenges growing up: from an era of comfort to an era of uncertainty. We are transforming the web and social media. We are transforming society. Despite the new challenges we are facing about the economy or the environment, we are creative enough to invent new ideas or amend existing ones. New ideas or a combination of ideas from various fields are waiting to be created: technology, green energy, economic theories, medical discoveries. Our brainpower is faced with a challenging new era and its up to us to make the best use of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Edison said: "Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up".&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/5867113176671879008-3724940816719325960?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/3724940816719325960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/04/economy-technology-environment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3724940816719325960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3724940816719325960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/04/economy-technology-environment.html' title='The Economy, Technology, Environment: Challenge to Hope'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SeqhFjmrh3I/AAAAAAAAAFA/D6kpuN63muY/s72-c/web2.0..bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-2542829135632517912</id><published>2009-04-08T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T15:15:54.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Story of Success</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sd1W2164bPI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ilbfPk6xd6M/s1600-h/luckyclover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322505834808765682" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 84px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 91px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sd1W2164bPI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ilbfPk6xd6M/s200/luckyclover.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I recently read the book "Outliers" by Malcolm Gladwell. It is about the story of success and looks into the lives of a few exceptionally successful people. After showing some statistical evidence such as date of birth, going over the '10,000 hour rule', and other 'advantages', it points out that success is not just a matter of hard work and dedication, but a combination of many factors and luck. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The book made a lot of sense to me, since I have seen how small opportunities combined with hard work can bring success. However, if someone does not get these opportunites, they may not be able to take advantage of them. Good opportunities may start of as a small beginning to a long chain of successful occurings. People born at the right time to take advantage of opportunities, people who go to the right school that enables them to build a good network, people who stumble upon the right job at the right time, people who are born into wealth. These people had luck on their side. Some parents motivate their children to do well in school and many of their children succeed. Other parents, may not give the same kind of motivation to their children and many of their children may not succeed. Success breeds success. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For a person to be a success, the right opportunities have to come at the right time. Otherwise, those opportunities will be missed or overlooked. At the same time, it takes a certain level of drive and determination to bring about luck. People who constantly strive for the best are better prepared for opportunities when they arrive. People who complain and don't work as hard are least prepared when opportunities come. There is always a certain amount of luck involved in life, but it is up to us to forsee and take advantage of little opportunities thrown our way. There are some common elements that I have noticed in all successful people: they dont complain much, they seize the day, take time to enjoy their lives, work very hard, exercise, eat right, and the most important of all - they maintain a good attitude. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/5867113176671879008-2542829135632517912?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/2542829135632517912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/04/story-of-success.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2542829135632517912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2542829135632517912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/04/story-of-success.html' title='The Story of Success'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sd1W2164bPI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ilbfPk6xd6M/s72-c/luckyclover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-3004240872903470481</id><published>2009-04-05T18:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T18:21:18.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunshine after Rain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SdlY-_IcacI/AAAAAAAAAEo/BZ2uRWzYPOQ/s1600-h/dec_27_1765_rain_forest_flower.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321382273836935618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SdlY-_IcacI/AAAAAAAAAEo/BZ2uRWzYPOQ/s200/dec_27_1765_rain_forest_flower.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Today was a sunny day in New York. I stepped out of my apartment building in the morning to be surrounded by the generous morning sun reflecting from the windows of the apartments. A fruit vendor was setting up his small cart with a variety of colorful fruits. A maltese puppy was happily walking with its owner. As I stood at the intersection, the thought came to me that yesterday was a cloudy, windy, and gloomy day. The weather can change in one day and so can people's lives. The lucky chances in our lives are similar to cloudy days transforming into sunny days. Spring is a time of renewed optimism. In these difficult times, the new verdant leaves and fragrant flowers continue to bloom; the cycle of life continues.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-3004240872903470481?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/3004240872903470481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/04/sunshine-after-rain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3004240872903470481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3004240872903470481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/04/sunshine-after-rain.html' title='Sunshine after Rain'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SdlY-_IcacI/AAAAAAAAAEo/BZ2uRWzYPOQ/s72-c/dec_27_1765_rain_forest_flower.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-5885817092608845520</id><published>2009-03-20T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T21:07:46.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The jazzy tunes of new york</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/ScRmNWthGtI/AAAAAAAAAEI/XrWfAUCW8OY/s1600-h/upper_east_side_fifth_ave.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315485839824853714" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 122px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/ScRmNWthGtI/AAAAAAAAAEI/XrWfAUCW8OY/s200/upper_east_side_fifth_ave.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My parents came to visit me this weekend and today I decided to show them around my neighborhood and beyond. We crossed a few avenues to get to 5th ave. To our right was central park, and to our left stood the most expensive stretch of real estate on the planet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love taking the walk down 5th avenue and central park to get to midtown, because it is beautiful to see the classy abodes that line the street on one side with the serene park on the other. Athletic men and women jog listening to their ipods and iphones, while older ladies in fur coats walk their small fluffy dogs with pride not paying attention to a group of wide eyed european tourists. Yellow cabs line the street with their drivers honking and frustrated; some are stuck in the busy traffic and some are stuck in their lives. When you live in these abodes, it is easy to forget the world that many people live in, including many new yorkers. A few steps down the street lie the archaic city subways. Once in a while, I can hear a jazzy tune played by a sad man, once in a while it is a chinese flute, and once in a while, it is a merry spanish song. All of these tunes can be heard in the subways and almost all of them are created by men homeless or unemployed unable to make a decent living otherwise. Many of them are quite talented. I wonder what the difference between some of them and the people of 5th avenue are? Is it luck? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The sounds of the city can be heard everywhere - you just have to listen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/5867113176671879008-5885817092608845520?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/5885817092608845520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/03/jazzy-tunes-of-new-york.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5885817092608845520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5885817092608845520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/03/jazzy-tunes-of-new-york.html' title='The jazzy tunes of new york'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/ScRmNWthGtI/AAAAAAAAAEI/XrWfAUCW8OY/s72-c/upper_east_side_fifth_ave.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-5110038944282891216</id><published>2009-03-15T18:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T18:26:28.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No TV and No beer make Homer something something</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sb2qvahduZI/AAAAAAAAAD4/PxVYSiQ4wjI/s1600-h/homer_shining.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313590866917308818" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 142px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sb2qvahduZI/AAAAAAAAAD4/PxVYSiQ4wjI/s200/homer_shining.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is a link to a Simpsons episode from a while back:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yGJGTjV2WE"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yGJGTjV2WE&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found it hilarious because I have been watching less and less of TV for a while and I dont drink at all. According to Homer, I should've turned crazy long ago. I used to watch a lot of TV before. When I moved to New York, I made the decision that I will not subscribe to premium cable. It is one of the best decisions I made. I can still watch TV if there is something important, but at the same time, it forces me to use my life for other productive tasks. There are so many better things I could do with my day and it is beautiful feeling to end each day well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only downside to not watching as much TV as before is missing out on conversations about shows. I can get very lost while friends talk about LOST. I dont know what goes on in Top Chef and I dont always follow American Idol. It is still a small price to pay for the time I get to do better things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Americans spend an average of 142 hours watching TV a month. That is 142 less hours of spending time with their family. 142 less hours of socializing. 142 less hours of reading. It could be anything. I am sure other countries are catching up to this. I have noticed my relatives in India watching a lot of TV too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason I find TV annoying, to say the least, is the amount of choice and control I have over shows and commercials. With internet, I can choose to visit only websites I like to visit, and I dont have to watch commercials. To me, that is a more efficient use of time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-5110038944282891216?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/5110038944282891216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/03/no-tv-and-no-beer-make-homer-something.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5110038944282891216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5110038944282891216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/03/no-tv-and-no-beer-make-homer-something.html' title='No TV and No beer make Homer something something'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/Sb2qvahduZI/AAAAAAAAAD4/PxVYSiQ4wjI/s72-c/homer_shining.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-4465288107805068123</id><published>2009-03-11T20:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T20:30:47.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Food and entertainment</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SbiAemrqVrI/AAAAAAAAADw/NgzbGz8EC04/s1600-h/plantians.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312137023751607986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 82px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 117px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SbiAemrqVrI/AAAAAAAAADw/NgzbGz8EC04/s200/plantians.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realized I haven't posted anything on my blog for more than a week! NY is an excellent place to be if you are a work hard play hard person. There is so much energy and endless things to do. NY is also famous for its array of restaurants and cafes. Many of the good restaurants are packed, even during a recession. However, it is not the time to be an average restaurant or a Wall St restaurant. My coworkers and I used to frequent a place for lunch; it was a cafeteria/restaurant/cafe with different kinds of food and we were never dissapointed with the quality. It was right on wall st and frequented by the regular wall st crowd. Two weeks ago, when we went there for lunch, we were surprised to see that the restuarant had closed down. Our assumption is that the wall st meltdown must have caused it to come to its end.&lt;br /&gt;Each week, I have been discovering new restaurants and I should start posting the names of all of them. This weekend, I went to a cuban restaurant for a friend's birthday called Havana Alma De Cuba. The appetizers, especially the empanadas were great. I love plaintains and people eat plaintains in our part of India too. Its always interesting to see how cuisines can be similar according to similar climates; they also stem from cultural influences brought on by historical voyages. Here is a link to the restaurant:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://havanavillagenyc.com/media/websitehavanavillage.html"&gt;http://havanavillagenyc.com/media/websitehavanavillage.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also discovered a new cafe around my neighborhood. Its called beannocio and it was recommended by a lady I saw in another cafe. I liked the environment and it is a great place to read and study. &lt;a href="http://beanocchios.com/"&gt;http://beanocchios.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last week, I saw the Sonicvision show in the planetarium at the american museum of natural history. Being an astronomy enthusiast and also the fact that the show was in a planetarium, I was expecting a little bit more of a science lesson. The show was fascinating, but it was more on the technical, music, and graphics side and less on the science side. It was definitely worth seeing once. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amnh.org/rose/dome/"&gt;http://www.amnh.org/rose/dome/&lt;/a&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/5867113176671879008-4465288107805068123?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/4465288107805068123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/03/food-and-entertainment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4465288107805068123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4465288107805068123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/03/food-and-entertainment.html' title='Food and entertainment'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SbiAemrqVrI/AAAAAAAAADw/NgzbGz8EC04/s72-c/plantians.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-3658879649524950047</id><published>2009-02-27T18:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T19:20:58.607-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Secret</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SaitOWLZX5I/AAAAAAAAADg/2HVNCuezf6Y/s1600-h/universe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307682622839283602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 127px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 131px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SaitOWLZX5I/AAAAAAAAADg/2HVNCuezf6Y/s200/universe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"The Secret" is a book and film phenomenon that launched in 2006. There was a lot of publicity and TV interviews about the ideas in the book. I took time to read it and it was definitely a worthwhile and inspiring read. The secret has a few main ideas: "Ask", "Believe", and "Receive". It says that you need to be clear about what you want in life, behave as if what you want is already with you, and be open to receiving it. The book was also marketed pretty well, which explains why so many people raved about it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you think about it, many of the world's major religions have ideas based on the secret. Apparently, people have known this for centuries. I agree with the basis of the book, because positive thinking does create better results for people in the long run. You are more motivated to work hard and are more likely to attract the right people into your life. Visualization of goals helps people behave as if their dreams have already come true and it somehow makes them work towards that goal more. The only time I get a little nervous about liking the idea wholeheartedly is knowing that luck does play a role in shaping people's lives. Children born into poverty are not as lucky as children born into affluence. Hungry babies in famished countries are not as lucky as healthy babies in wealthy countries. Abused women are not as lucky as others.  So, do these people attract these negative events into their lives? I dont think so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, I have tried to see how "the secret" works in my life and the lives of people I know. To a large degree, it works. The Secret and similar books teach people a lesson: you attract what you think. I have noticed that positive people are much more successful in the long run. Negative people like to complain about their lives and point out everything that is wrong with them and that in turn attracts more negative events. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I recently read "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho. The story is about a shepherd trying to find his personal legend. Here is a quote from the book &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/5867113176671879008-3658879649524950047?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/3658879649524950047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/02/secret.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3658879649524950047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3658879649524950047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/02/secret.html' title='The Secret'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SaitOWLZX5I/AAAAAAAAADg/2HVNCuezf6Y/s72-c/universe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-3315924017741980375</id><published>2009-02-22T14:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T15:11:43.586-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ms.Magazine to women of today</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SaHa7TQgJPI/AAAAAAAAADQ/ALkjwoVaxcM/s1600-h/msmagazine.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305762548335781106" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 149px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SaHa7TQgJPI/AAAAAAAAADQ/ALkjwoVaxcM/s200/msmagazine.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The women of my mother's generation paved their way for the "modern" woman. They lobbied for equal righs, equal pay, and worked to stop objectification of women. They criticized and campaigned to make life easier for us. Sometimes I wonder if the womens rights and feminist movement of the 60's and 70's really helped the women of today. Western women of today are not necessarily happier. There are high rates of depression and low self esteem. Objectification of women has increased and people can see it everywhere. Women are trying to have a career and raise families at the same time. Women cannot be overly aggressive for being termed manly and they cannot be overly passive because they will be a doormat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For years, women blamed men for their treatment and issues - and historically it has definitely been true. However, sometimes I wonder, especially nowadays, whether women are responsible for their own problems. In many cases, you choose to be insecure; you choose to have men define how you are supposed to look; you choose to dress the way you dress; you choose to be unhappy; you choose to take on more responsibility than you can handle. Can women ever win?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-3315924017741980375?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/3315924017741980375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/02/ms-magazine-to-women-of-today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3315924017741980375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3315924017741980375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/02/ms-magazine-to-women-of-today.html' title='Ms.Magazine to women of today'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SaHa7TQgJPI/AAAAAAAAADQ/ALkjwoVaxcM/s72-c/msmagazine.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-6432836567188477568</id><published>2009-02-16T16:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T19:16:43.745-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Michigan lakes and city intersections</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SZoO97yIWVI/AAAAAAAAACw/5KN3e29fxNE/s1600-h/winterlake..JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303567968364943698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SZoO97yIWVI/AAAAAAAAACw/5KN3e29fxNE/s200/winterlake..JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SZoL64wggRI/AAAAAAAAACo/RwyvMENW0U8/s1600-h/winterlake..JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am spending this long weekend in Michigan with my parents. I find it sad that such a beautiful state with hard working people is in the economic situation it is in currently. The recession that other states are experiencing now, the state of Michigan has been expriencing for the past few years. From my parents' house, I watched the fluttering birds and snow that partially enveloped the lake; the icy part stood still and the part that melted was flowing like the river. The sun cast its last rays among the winter clouds and turned the background into different colors. I love spending time at this house, because it is quiet and away from the big city- a sharp contrast to the life that I have gotten used to. I like the warmth and friendliness of the mid-westerners; neighbors know each other and there is none of the standofish attitudes I find with people living in the east coast cities. Do people change to adapt to their environment? Probably true, because I cannot be the friendly midwesterner when I am trying to get into the subway to be on time to a 8 am meeting or while grabbing a cab quickly to get to a dinner on time or while quickly scrambling my way among the crowd to cross a busy intersection while the light is blinking with the red hand. In my heart I am still a midwestern Indian girl, but it never hurts to be the New Yorker once in a while. As the saying goes, if you can live in New York, you can live anywhere.&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/5867113176671879008-6432836567188477568?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/6432836567188477568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/02/michigan-lakes-and-city-intersections.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/6432836567188477568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/6432836567188477568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/02/michigan-lakes-and-city-intersections.html' title='Michigan lakes and city intersections'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SZoO97yIWVI/AAAAAAAAACw/5KN3e29fxNE/s72-c/winterlake..JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-5322004127344174870</id><published>2009-02-07T19:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T19:19:46.945-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Slumdogs and Billionaires</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SY5NQT4kyHI/AAAAAAAAACA/hAxMy866Ppw/s1600-h/india-monk-600.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300258754072463474" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 106px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SY5NQT4kyHI/AAAAAAAAACA/hAxMy866Ppw/s200/india-monk-600.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The popularity of the movie Slumdog Millionaire has made me think a lot about my birth country: an enormous democracy of wealth and poverty; mountain snow and tropical waters; modern and ancient. A country of a rich and ancient past that emerged victorious despite many struggles. A country that has some of the most eminent scholars, authors, and poets in the world, but also has more than 25% of its own people living under the poverty line. The largest and most expensive house in the world is being built in Mumbai, the same city that has the largest slum in Asia. See links:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Largest and Most Expense House&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/3002586.cms"&gt;http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/3002586.cms&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Largest Slum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/shared/spl/hi/world/06/dharavi_slum/html/dharavi_slum_intro.stm"&gt;http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/shared/spl/hi/world/06/dharavi_slum/html/dharavi_slum_intro.stm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder if I would have had the same opportunities I have now, if I had grown up in India. Maybe yes, but most likely no; I would be a woman and a minority in a country that still has rigid caste, relgious, and social structures in place. In spite of this, somewhere in my heart, I have a place for India. I can't explain that feeling but I know that it feels similar to a child's love for a mother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-5322004127344174870?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/5322004127344174870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/02/slumdogs-and-billionaires.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5322004127344174870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5322004127344174870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/02/slumdogs-and-billionaires.html' title='Slumdogs and Billionaires'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SY5NQT4kyHI/AAAAAAAAACA/hAxMy866Ppw/s72-c/india-monk-600.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-3648771081640216026</id><published>2009-01-31T19:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T20:26:54.481-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrities, Tea Cups, and more</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SYUkf16oo6I/AAAAAAAAAB4/VzrTrKTuhns/s1600-h/alice%20in%20wonderland%20wallpaper3_0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297680666138813346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 148px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SYUkf16oo6I/AAAAAAAAAB4/VzrTrKTuhns/s200/alice%2520in%2520wonderland%2520wallpaper3_0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have met a few celebrities in my times in NY, including one yesterday. I am not going to post a list of names since I would like them to remain anonymous in my blog. I have to admit that a part of me has a fascination that makes me excited every time I meet a famous face. It could be the fact that millions of people know this individual or it could be that I see this celebrity as my window into the world of fame and glamour. I have never seeked fame, nor do I really want to be famous (to the level of every person knowing who I am). If it happens, I will accept it, but I will not seek it. Sometimes, I feel as though I get thrown into the spotlight. I will explain those situations in another blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I had brunch at this place called Alice's Tea Cup. I am warning the men that the name does hold true and you will find it to be a very 'girly' place. Of course, I loved it. The brunch was good, and my friend and I shared a teapot with a small cat attached to it. A mirror had little pink dresses attached to it and the decor was created to resemble Alice in Wonderland story. Here is a link:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.alicesteacup.com/"&gt;http://www.alicesteacup.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alice's Tea Cup is a tea wonderland, but aren't we all living in a real-life wonderland? How do we distinguish between dream and reality? Our past memories become dreams; our future is a dream; only the present is reality.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-3648771081640216026?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/3648771081640216026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/celebrity-sightings-tea-cups-and-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3648771081640216026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3648771081640216026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/celebrity-sightings-tea-cups-and-more.html' title='Celebrities, Tea Cups, and more'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SYUkf16oo6I/AAAAAAAAAB4/VzrTrKTuhns/s72-c/alice%2520in%2520wonderland%2520wallpaper3_0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-3239520628986933185</id><published>2009-01-27T16:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T16:52:00.641-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Economy and job losses..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SZtbp3N062I/AAAAAAAAADI/ohOnWXI954M/s1600-h/wallst.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303933760913599330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 87px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SZtbp3N062I/AAAAAAAAADI/ohOnWXI954M/s200/wallst.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like everyone else, I have been hearing news of more and more job losses in many sectors of the economy. Every morning, I get off at the Wall St subway stop; it is bewildering to see the epicenter of this mess. Trinity church continues to mightily overlook the street. Some people dressed in business suits, others in jeans and a little slumped, slowly make their way. I remember my first day at my current job. It was Sept 29, 2008. The Dow Jones Industrial Average fell more than 777 points - the largest single day point loss in history. The next day, on Sept 30th, I had to attend a meeting on Broad St. I got off the Wall St stop around 8am and started walking along the sidewalk that leads to Wall and Broad. There were television cameras and reporters waiting to cover the news that morning. I crossed Broad St and and for a brief moment I looked to the right of me - There it stood, the New York Stock Exchange - a symbol of financial birth, might, and collapse. Weeks and months later, we have seen the consequences and ripple effect on every sector, not only in the United States, but elsewhere in the world. Greed and stupidity, bad advice and unfortunate decisions, consumerism that fed off captialism - an economy that is continuing to learn its lessons. For those who thought of their jobs as their identity, they learned a cruel lesson. For those whose spending had gotten out of control, they also learned a cruel lesson. For a poor family trying to survive every day living paycheck to paycheck given wrong advice by experts - I wish they didn't have to learn this cruel lesson. I hope that our country will survive this and I really hope people all over the world will get through this meltdown.&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/5867113176671879008-3239520628986933185?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/3239520628986933185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/economy-and-job-losses.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3239520628986933185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/3239520628986933185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/economy-and-job-losses.html' title='Economy and job losses..'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SZtbp3N062I/AAAAAAAAADI/ohOnWXI954M/s72-c/wallst.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-2316238690100296341</id><published>2009-01-21T18:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T16:34:21.729-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A moment in history..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SXfWgLoHEwI/AAAAAAAAABo/R80tUMGCPAQ/s1600-h/inauguration.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293935735362491138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SXfWgLoHEwI/AAAAAAAAABo/R80tUMGCPAQ/s200/inauguration.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I took this picture yesterday among the crowd of people assembled next to the New York Stock Exchange. I was lucky to be next to a very symbolic building in this period in history. Years from now I can say that when our country was drowned in an economic recession, unnecessary war, and housing crisis, I was there among the hopeful, excited, tearful, and joyful crowd enjoying the inauguration of the 44th President of the United States. I cast my first vote in this election and knowing that my vote made a difference in shaping the world is an honor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do not take my American citizenship for granted and I never will. I became a citizen in the morning of September 11, 2006 several years after I came to the United States as a child. I will never forget that moment when I raised my hand to recite the oath of allegiance- it was exactly five years after the darkest moment in American history. Yesterday, I stood among a group of Americans and tourists, young and old, wealthy and poor, comprised of all races and colors, all waving their hands and flags, shouting and hoping, crying and screaming; I stood among them feeling more American than ever before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-2316238690100296341?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/2316238690100296341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/moment-in-history.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2316238690100296341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/2316238690100296341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/moment-in-history.html' title='A moment in history..'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SXfWgLoHEwI/AAAAAAAAABo/R80tUMGCPAQ/s72-c/inauguration.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-7097460470640257333</id><published>2009-01-19T08:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T11:32:36.365-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lazy Sunday..</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I went to Cafe Reggio with a friend after lunch at Chola.&lt;br /&gt;Here are the links to both places:&lt;br /&gt;Chola : &lt;a href="http://www.fineindiandining.com/"&gt;http://www.fineindiandining.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cafe Reggio: &lt;a href="http://www.cafereggio.com/"&gt;http://www.cafereggio.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first came to Cafe Reggio in the village two years ago, I didn't know that it had the first espresso machine in the United States. I was drawn to it, like I am drawn to many quaint cafes that have a cozy look from the outside until you discover there is some story to it. Cafe's and restaurants have a lot to do with ambiance and I have always felt that the ambiance adds to the taste. I have noticed that in some cultures in India or the Middle East, there is less focus on restaurant ambiance and more on the food and taste. That is fine too, but I always like the added touch of an exceptional service or a nice decor with an eclectic touch and maybe a window that overlooks a small garden and ivy covered walls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-7097460470640257333?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/7097460470640257333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/lazy-sunday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/7097460470640257333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/7097460470640257333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/lazy-sunday.html' title='Lazy Sunday..'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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-5867113176671879008.post-6960005563767674638</id><published>2009-01-12T18:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T18:43:53.384-08:00</updated><title type='text'>100 years from now..</title><content type='html'>100 years from now, almost all of the people we see in the world today won't exist anymore. It will be a whole new generation of people. A whole new generation of love, hate, generosity, greed, peace, war, happiness, misery, health, disease. I wonder whether people think about their legacy and what they are really leaving behind in this world. Why do we have so many people who are arrogant- considering our lives are so short?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-6960005563767674638?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/6960005563767674638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/100-years-from-now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/6960005563767674638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/6960005563767674638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/100-years-from-now.html' title='100 years from now..'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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-5867113176671879008.post-4881198428022339473</id><published>2009-01-09T19:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T20:07:54.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My little pony</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SWgfBihCEBI/AAAAAAAAABY/QW5xpbZoCf8/s1600-h/pony.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289511873652330514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 211px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 187px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SWgfBihCEBI/AAAAAAAAABY/QW5xpbZoCf8/s320/pony.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.usnews.com/articles/business/careers/2009/01/09/december-jobs-report-what-you-need-to-know.html"&gt;http://www.usnews.com/articles/business/careers/2009/01/09/december-jobs-report-what-you-need-to-know.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew up in the 80's and 90's and like many people of my generation (millenials/generation Y) , I am now part of uncertain times. Maybe our comfortable childhoods were not a good preparation of what would come. We got first hand knowledge of what it is like to grow up with care bears, my little ponies, matchbox cars, and transformers into the real world of war, global warming, recessions, and uncertainty. Could we have imagined what would be ahead of us? Maybe that is one of life's biggest lessons and maybe it is the uncertainty that keeps it interesting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-4881198428022339473?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/4881198428022339473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/economic-news.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4881198428022339473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/4881198428022339473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/economic-news.html' title='My little pony'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SWgfBihCEBI/AAAAAAAAABY/QW5xpbZoCf8/s72-c/pony.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-172621753364365464</id><published>2009-01-07T17:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T20:10:52.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New York, NY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SWgfxehSwGI/AAAAAAAAABg/2xTGu5_xk14/s1600-h/new-york-city.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289512697213403234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3_YMu-uUujw/SWgfxehSwGI/AAAAAAAAABg/2xTGu5_xk14/s200/new-york-city.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Can cities be soulmates? Do some cities draw people to them more than others? What is it about the aura of NY that makes people live here? I have found a few reasons why I like NY and the biggest reason has to do with how much I missed the city when I was away. I came here for a consulting client back in 2006, stayed here for a year, and went back to my old traveling routine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what I had to say then:&lt;br /&gt;"Manhattan is a place of extremes - rich and homeless - high skyscrapers and underground subways - expensive pets and fat rats - it is a city beyond comparison. I also learned that among the crowds lies loneliness and in the foot of luxury lies homelessness. To get to the highest of the highs in the city that defines power, people sometimes forget to smile. For now, I know that I can always go back to this city and still won’t mind living there. In the hustle and bustle of a restaurant you can sometimes spot a smile; once in while a cabbie will talk about his life story, and maybe you can spot a celebrity or two. I loved to see the faces of tourists who came from far and wide as they gazed at the billboards in times square for the first time and scrambled their way through the crowds. I loved walking in the quaint streets of West Village and then crisscrossing my way to Chinatown to see a different crowd, smell a different aroma, and hear a new tune. I loved walking past the classy abodes near Central Park hearing the hoofs of the horses and the sound of the different languages that floated in the air. I will miss waking up to see the distant statue of liberty from the apartment and a proud flag flying next to it near a ghostly void created six years ago. I will miss an occasional dove perching on a church and a cabbie speeding by splashing a puddle from a pothole onto an unassuming onlooker. More than everything, I will miss the city that defines and sets the standard for the whole world to follow."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I wrote this, a new job drew me back to the city. So, here I am, a year later, back to the most interesting city in the world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-172621753364365464?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/172621753364365464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-york-ny.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/172621753364365464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/172621753364365464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-york-ny.html' title='New York, NY'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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/_3_YMu-uUujw/SWgfxehSwGI/AAAAAAAAABg/2xTGu5_xk14/s72-c/new-york-city.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867113176671879008.post-5091043339526408764</id><published>2009-01-06T17:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T20:04:15.595-08:00</updated><title type='text'>1st Entry</title><content type='html'>This is my first blog entry. Today is what I call one of my clumsy days - I was later than usual to the 77th and Lex subway and scrambled my way through the 8:30 am crowd, only to realize that my card had expired. As I stood in the long line for the only MTA card machine that worked, I realized that my magazine fell. As I picked up my glossy magazine, I realized that my credit card, laundry card, and an assortment of wallet items had fallen into the grubby subway floor. In either case, finally, I hopped on my train as usual packed with other morning commuters like sardines hoping not to be next to a stinky or sick individual. My highlight of today was lunch with my coworkers in Chinatown. Among the smell of vegetables, fruit, and fish, we walked among shopkeepers staring out of their displays of toys, jewelery and random, useless, but colorful items. In the restaurant, I had mostly vegetable dim sum, tasty as usual. I end today on a normal and unassuming day hoping that I can continue my musings in my blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5867113176671879008-5091043339526408764?l=nazilamathari.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/feeds/5091043339526408764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/1st-entry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5091043339526408764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5867113176671879008/posts/default/5091043339526408764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nazilamathari.blogspot.com/2009/01/1st-entry.html' title='1st Entry'/><author><name>Nazila Mathari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09952370977780270048</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>
