<?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-8917428130516919827</id><updated>2011-08-27T06:17:07.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>foxpass</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>nostalchick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11840971321588716156</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>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8917428130516919827.post-7063186358130691254</id><published>2011-05-06T02:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T02:29:51.738-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Kittens</title><content type='html'>Inquistive noses twitch&lt;div&gt;the back arches.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They pounce,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;over my feet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It tickles.&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/8917428130516919827-7063186358130691254?l=foxpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/feeds/7063186358130691254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2011/05/little-kittens.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/7063186358130691254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/7063186358130691254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2011/05/little-kittens.html' title='Little Kittens'/><author><name>nostalchick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11840971321588716156</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-8917428130516919827.post-7161776965014980155</id><published>2011-04-24T08:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T08:14:13.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>rant#2</title><content type='html'>i hate and i love &lt;div&gt;but can never truly express them&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;repression is my saviour&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;repression is my captivity&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917428130516919827-7161776965014980155?l=foxpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/feeds/7161776965014980155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2011/04/rant2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/7161776965014980155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/7161776965014980155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2011/04/rant2.html' title='rant#2'/><author><name>nostalchick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11840971321588716156</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-8917428130516919827.post-432845032488666125</id><published>2011-04-24T08:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T08:12:17.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>rant</title><content type='html'>silence and self-loathing&lt;div&gt;encompasses my time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i am left behind&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;by all&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/8917428130516919827-432845032488666125?l=foxpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/feeds/432845032488666125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2011/04/rant.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/432845032488666125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/432845032488666125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2011/04/rant.html' title='rant'/><author><name>nostalchick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11840971321588716156</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-8917428130516919827.post-3705330011836404164</id><published>2010-11-29T09:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-29T10:02:37.079-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The blissful Anonymity of Carpooling?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; was travelling back the other day in my sister's best friend's car, because I had to go for a dramatics society  rehearsal. I was travelling with my sister's two friends (one whose car it was and another friend), my sister and this guy- who was friends with my sister's best friend. I found out that he actually went to the same school as my sister though they didn't know each other very well.  We spent the drive listening to songs and singing along, discussing music lessons and politics and work. As we were talking, my sister's best friend said to my sister, "Arsh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; is very quiet, he refuses to talk- just like you!" At which point, I smartly asked- "Who is Arsh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;?"                &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;                           {Awkward silence, followed by laughter. Possibly slight coughing on his part?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; My response: "Well, its not like anybody introduced us!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;*name changed&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917428130516919827-3705330011836404164?l=foxpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/feeds/3705330011836404164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2010/11/blissful-anonymity-of-carpooling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/3705330011836404164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/3705330011836404164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2010/11/blissful-anonymity-of-carpooling.html' title='The blissful Anonymity of Carpooling?'/><author><name>nostalchick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11840971321588716156</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-8917428130516919827.post-5212188104763640725</id><published>2010-11-25T07:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T08:00:03.761-08:00</updated><title type='text'>'Constructive' Criticism or NOT</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; am part of the english dramatics society of my college- I do the sets. However, as members we are supposed to watch the rehearsals and give creative input to make the performance better. We had all noticed that the actors had a tendency to repeat certain specific hand movements. So, we decided to enact an entire scene without using hands. Only the lead actor, as I noticed earlier, had a tendency to be slightly giggly. So, when he told us not to laugh at them because it was an important exercise, I shot back at him saying that he was the one who giggled all the time. Everyone was so surprised because a first year is usually not supposed to be so pert, especially to the vice president of the society! He didn't recover fast enough to retort. So everyone was laughing and asking me whether I was high or something. But I don't smoke at all, but then again I don't act like this normally either. As if that wasn't awkward enough, during the next scene, I happened to notice that the supporting actor, who happened to be the president of the society, left his mouth open during the scene- while he wasn't talking. I didn't want to criticize him in case he had a problem, so I asked "Do you have a breathing problem?" Turns out everyone found this even more whacked out because he didn't; so they thought i was being highly weird. Though to me it was simply constructive criticism. I felt so awkward around all of them that I didn't attend the meetings for a week!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917428130516919827-5212188104763640725?l=foxpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/feeds/5212188104763640725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2010/11/constructive-criticism-or-not.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/5212188104763640725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/5212188104763640725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2010/11/constructive-criticism-or-not.html' title='&apos;Constructive&apos; Criticism or NOT'/><author><name>nostalchick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11840971321588716156</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-8917428130516919827.post-8100485690208797900</id><published>2010-11-24T10:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T10:23:54.974-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Endless possibilities</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;It was my first day of college- orientation. I was nervous as hell about meeting my new classmates. I remember everyone's face was a blur because they were all so unfamiliar. I have joined the college in which my mother used to teach, and some of her old colleagues still teach there. So, after I had finished introducing myself to my peers, my teacher, who is a friend of my mother's asked me whether I was her daughter. In the awkwardness of it all, I said the first thing that came to my mind- 'possibly!' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I believe that the reason for my saying that was justified. In the sense that I didn't want the first impression, given to my classmates by me, to be that of a person who doesn't begin with the anonymity of a new student, so to say. Consequently though, my friends kept making  jokes with 'possibly' as the punchline, because there is no possible way that your mother is 'possibly' your mother. Now every time someone asks a question, they only have to say possibly and everyone starts giggling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8917428130516919827-8100485690208797900?l=foxpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/feeds/8100485690208797900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2010/11/endless-possibilities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/8100485690208797900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8917428130516919827/posts/default/8100485690208797900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://foxpass.blogspot.com/2010/11/endless-possibilities.html' title='Endless possibilities'/><author><name>nostalchick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11840971321588716156</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>
